A/N: Again, be warned: Adult Content. Scenes or references to violence, non-consensual sex, substance abuse. Internal justification of all those things.
Chapter 75
Severus followed Dumbledore back to the sitting room, to make sure the lecherous bastard flooed the hell out of his personal quarters.
Not that seeing him disappear in a whirl of green flames made him feel any safer, of course. For all he knew the old creep would floo right back as soon as he turned around, to spend the rest of the night cataloguing evidence or trying to spy on his private dealings with Lupin.
Oh, how he wished he could seal off that bloody grate! It was the one thing he had always hated about living in Hogwarts, the reason why some part of him always looked forward to returning to Spinner's End for the summer. Depressive as his muggle dump was, at least there he could rest easy knowing that no one could simply waltz in through the fireplace at three in the morning to catch him doing something inappropriate. Not even bloody Dumbledore. In his own house, Severus could fuck whoever and however he wanted, get high or drunk at his own discretion, brew the most gruesome potions without fear of questioning, live in a cloud of Dark Magic if that was his wish. He rarely did any of that, of course, but that was irrelevant; even if he just sat staring at a wall for days in a row it was thrilling to know he had complete privacy to do so, that no one could sneak into Spinner's End uninvited, while here...
It hadn't been so bad in years past. Not counting the mourning period after Lily's death, when Severus admittedly had required a suicide watch overnight, Dumbledore had mostly respected his personal space, only flooing directly into his quarters during emergencies and knocking at the door like a civilized person for the occasional social visit if he visited at all. Poppy didn't have access to his floo, nor could she get through his wards, so she had stopped pestering him with her concerns years ago, and as to his fellow Heads of House... before this year, no one had dared flooing directly into his sitting room, nor they had bothered him with unwelcomed attempts at socialization, all happy to pretend there was no connection between their private quarters.
Now, though... Now he never knew when Minerva would floo by to scold him about his treatment of students, or to question him about Potter and the Third Task, or to challenge him to a mandatory game of chess. Now he never knew when Dumbledore would sneak in to go through his stuff or test his allegiance somehow, as if he were a suspicious DADA teacher who couldn't be trusted not to be planning something nasty at the end of the year. Always assuming the worst of him, losing faith at the slightest sign of inner conflict, expecting him to go so dark that he could no longer tell right from wrong. As if choices could be reduced to a simple matter of right versus wrong! Of good versus evil! As if violence could never be right, lawfulness never wrong, light wizards never evil. As if dark wizards couldn't have the right answer to evil, be a force for good in their own fucked-up way, get better results with their less than scrupulous methods.
You're out of control, Severus.
Severus looked around his sitting room, his eyes taking in the destruction caused by his explosive entry from the lab passage, the blood trail left by Lupin, the ravaged mattress he could see through the door of his bedroom. He had made quite a mess, first chasing down the mongrel and afterwards wrecking the place to uncover some of his stashes, admittedly not in his most restrained state of mind when he had done it. But if he had gone a little wild it had been precisely because he had needed to get back in control, to subdue that stupid wolf and ensure the beast was no longer a threat. A threat he wouldn't have had to deal with in the first place if Dumbledore had respected his fucking privacy. If the scheming bastard had ever done right by Severus instead of screwing him over at every turn.
That's what made this whole situation so infuriating. To see the Headmaster acting all self-righteous and concerned, spreading pity and censure around, when it was all his fault. Severus certainly wouldn't be standing here, covered in blood in the middle of his wrecked sitting room, his hands shaking due to multi-drug abuse, possibly infected with half a dozen venereal diseases and maybe even Lycanthropy, if the meddling old fool hadn't shown that confidential memory to Potter. If he hadn't betrayed his trust telling the brat that he had changed sides to protect Lily and her family, once again sharing details of his past with the last person Severus wanted aware of anything remotely personal.
And it wasn't just that. Severus wouldn't be 'out of control' now if in his arrogance Dumbledore hadn't botched the Age Line, making possible for Potter to be entered in the Tournament and bringing about this whole mess. If he had heeded Severus' advice last summer and sent the boy into hiding instead of trapping him in this bloody school with the Goblet of Fire. If he had let the Dementors do their jobs and give Black the Kiss last year instead of helping the arsehole escape. If back in their schooldays he hadn't chosen to protect a fucking werewolf while leaving Severus at the mercy of Potter and Black. If he had ever cared about the Slytherin portion of the student body instead of simply assuming they were all evil and encouraging his precious Gryffindors to beat them down. If he had tried to understand the Dark Lord as a child instead of chastising him and leaving him to his own devices. If he had kept Lily safe as he had promised...
It all came down to Dumbledore. It was all his fault, either his doing or his failure, his neglect or downright callousness. He held the greatest responsibility, the ultimate blame for everything that had led Severus to this moment, and yet he had the gall to judge him for the end result. To treat him as if his descent into darkness were entirely a matter of his own weakness instead of a reasonable response to all the Dumbledore shit he had had to tolerate over the last two decades.
Fuck him.
And how he would like that.
The mere thought made him want to throw up, but he had to admit the abstract concept was vindictively exhilarating. The idea of forcing the great Albus Dumbledore on his hands and knees, stripped of all his power and dignity along with his ridiculous robes, and shove all his heartless manipulations up his arse... Severus could never bring himself to do something so revolting, but he was pretty sure the Dark Lord would happily swallow his own revulsion and make a show of buggering his greatest nemesis into submission.
Getting screwed by another dark wizard might be a wet dream come true for Dumbledore, though, his last wish before dying, so perhaps he would be best punished having his scandalous history with Grindelwald exposed. The Dark Lord definitely would have a field day with that juicy bit of intelligence, and he would not doubt Severus' allegiance if he brought to him such a valuable secret, a secret he could use to extort Dumbledore or to destroy his reputation beyond repair...
Severus shook his head to himself. Much as he would enjoy seeing the sanctimonious old man pay for everything, fair as it would be to betray his dirty secrets and expose him to the censure of the world, he knew he couldn't do that. His Unbreakable Vow to Potter was deadly insurance of his allegiance, magical shackles that not only made impossible to change sides —at least for as long as the boy was underage—, but also made necessary to stay in good terms with Dumbledore, to keep enough of his trust as to maintain his position at Hogwarts, close to the object of his protection.
Besides, it wasn't as if Severus wanted to rejoin the Dark Lord. There's another bastard who could go fuck himself with a cactus as far as he was concerned. Another lying hypocrite who deserved to have his most embarrassing secrets exposed as payback for his broken promise. And yet Severus was magically shackled to him as well, had no choice but to answer his summons when they came, to fall on his knees faking forgiveness and contrition —as if he could ever feel anything but hatred towards the man who had snuffed out the only light in his life!
Severus glowered at his Dark Mark, wishing he could will away that eternal claim on his soul.
He glowered at the fireplace, wishing again he could seal the damned gate off.
He glowered in the direction of the Gryffindor tower, wishing he could take back the bloody Vow and separate his fate from Potter's. Wishing he could make the boy forget whatever Lupin had told him.
But he couldn't. He had briefly entertained the notion at the height of his madness, but it had taken him just a moment of clear thinking to realize it wasn't a viable option. Not because he couldn't obliviate the brat —he had already done so once—, but because it was highly unlikely Potter had been alone when Lupin had come across him on the grounds. Even if their conversation had been private, it was very possible Krum and the other champions had been apprised of its contents afterwards —especially if Potter had been upset, which was code for shouting every angry thought that went through his thick head without considering the possible consequences. So, to effectively obliviate Potter, Severus would most likely have to obliviate his allies as well, lest they noticed his forgetfulness and brought the matter to Dumbledore's attention. And he wasn't sure the Goblet of Fire would allow him to touch the minds of the other champions. He could try, sure, but if he tried and failed his unscrupulous intentions would be exposed, making him liable to multinational prosecution, so he couldn't risk it.
Feeling powerless and furious all over again, Severus pushed that frustrating realization away and forced his sight back into focus, his eyes instantly falling on the 16th century Persian carpet that had been permanently stained with werewolf blood.
Lupin.
That spineless beast. This was his fault as well. If the meddling wolf had stayed out of affairs that didn't concern him... if he had kept his silence and his distance... if he hadn't shown up at his office's door at two in the morning and broken into his quarters...
Scowling, Severus turned his back on his destroyed sitting room and stalked back into Slytherin's legendary torture chamber —a chamber he had never dreamed he'd ever get to use for its original purpose, and to torture a werewolf, of all possible victims, not to mention a bloody Marauder.
Salazar's personal instruments of torment had been removed during Slughorn's tenure as Head of House —and had somehow ended up in the Dark Lord's possession—, but Severus had done a good enough job turning the place into a torture chamber again. The only essential requirement was a victim, after all, and of course a torturer, the rest was just a matter of time and creativity. And privacy. Undisturbed one-on-one time with no annoying interruptions from Gryffindor busybodies intent on stealing the victim away.
It was also required a strong stomach, recalled Severus with a grimace as he stepped through the door, wrinkling his nose when the various fragrances saturating the room assaulted his senses. This was the big downside of torture, the distasteful aspect that made most Death Eaters eventually regret their decision of taking the Dark Mark: the smell. There were magical ways to handle the problem, of course, spells to induce temporal anosmia, ventilation charms to refresh the air, potions to keep oneself from throwing up, but the Dark Lord considered the use of such methods a sign of weakness, so anyone who wanted to rise in the ranks had to learn to deal with unpleasant odours. Some people grew desensitized with constant exposure, but Severus had only grown more sensitive during his time as a Death Eater, and he had spent the last decade as a potioneer refining his olfactory skills so his nose was more easily offended now than it had been in the past.
Thankfully, Lupin hadn't soiled himself —he'd likely be constipated for days after this—, but there were other smells that made Severus forget his angry determination the moment he walked through the door, filling him instead with a strong urge to march right back out and not come back. The scent of blood. The sweet bouquet of burned flesh. The noxious fumes released by vaporized poisons.
Worst of all, though, was the smell of sex. A smell Severus normally wouldn't mind, on the contrary, but that in this case he found completely repulsive. As he found the sight of Lupin naked and laid out across the cot like an oversized turkey waiting to be stuffed.
Disgusting.
Feeling filthy and uncomfortable in his own skin, Severus turned away, his eyes frantically searching for the nearest escape. Which happened not to be the door, but the perfectly cut lines of cocaine he had saved for later. For now. He could smell that too, the bitter fragrance calling to him like a dark murmur inviting him to sin, but that wasn't really the escape he craved. He actually wanted, needed the opposite, to fly off into blissful oblivion, escape his own mind, be cradled to sleep by a non-judgemental God only heroin could invoke.
You're clearly intoxicated, Severus.
That was putting it mildly. Severus had more additives than blood in his veins by this point, he could almost feel his internal organs failing, his heart hesitating from one beat to the next, and it was only thanks to Occlumency that his brain was still working in a soberly fashion. He didn't give a damn what Dumbledore thought, though, that was the last opinion that mattered to him at present. And he certainly didn't need anyone to tell him that shooting himself with heroin was a bad idea, if for no other reason because he couldn't risk to be unresponsively wasted when the Dark Lord summoned him —which could happen at any moment.
Besides, he still had things to do that required some measure of functionality. The wolf still had to be dealt with, like it or not. Snorting a few more lines of cocaine would make such unpleasant task easier and even fun, but much as Severus needed something to take the edge off Reality he hesitated to inhale any more of that stuff as well —mainly because if he kept going fuelled by cocaine it was almost certain he would end up screwing Lupin again, which he would regret later when he came down from the high and had to justify it to himself.
It was also a fact that he had to be able to do this kind of shit in a state of sobriety. The Dark Lord only allowed drugs for purely recreational purposes, never for raids or serious torture work, so Severus had to get used to this again. To the smell. To the screams. To the sight of blood and the sound of pain. Very soon, he would find himself once more in the position of having to torture, kill, even rape, without drugs to soothe his revulsion or distract his conscience, so he couldn't shirk from this nor escape the aftermath like a coward.
With a last wistful glance at those muggle marvels no potion could substitute, Severus finally turned his back on the drugs and marched back into Lupin's cell, resigned to finish the job feeling like crap. Half-drunk, half-high, half-himself. Wishing there were a potion magical enough to restore one to complete sobriety without going through withdrawal nor experiencing any side-effects. Or even better, a drug marvellous enough to live and function in a constantly blissful state without ever coming down nor dying of multi-organic failure.
"Severus..." rasped Lupin while he rummaged inside the black chest looking for another latex glove. "You can't kill me now, surely you see that."
"I am not currently killing you, mongrel. The principle of torture is to drag out life well beyond the point where the victim wishes to die. You're not quite there yet."
"And I might not live long enough to reach that point," said Lupin weakly. "I've lost a lot of blood already. If you don't heal me, I will die, and you can't afford that now. Dumbledore-"
"Dumbledore knows I'm high, holding you under coercion, torturing you, having fun with your arse, and he still choose to turn his back on the situation," said Severus as he slipped his left hand into the new glove. "I can do whatever I want, Lupin. My plans certainly haven't changed."
"Why shouldn't I call for help, then? If you're going to kill me-"
"I never said killing you was part of my plans," cut him off Severus, irritated by the stupid assumption. "And before you start quibbling over semantics, letting you die isn't either."
Pushing away his irritation, and doing his best to ignore Lupin's nakedness, Severus slipped the dragon-hide glove back on his right hand and leaned over to examine his handiwork, frowning when he saw the last carving had partially closed. He didn't feel bad about having to reopen it, though, painful as it would be, since it wasn't his fault that they had been interrupted before he could apply the dark tincture. Clearly the wolf had tried to summon some Hogwarts' elf, and while the creatures would never dare answering such a call the attempt must have provided the Headmaster with an easy way to track him down inside the castle.
"What are you going to do, then?" asked Lupin, not sounding very reassured by the news that he wasn't going to die. "You can't obliviate me either, not now that Dumbledore-"
By this point, Lupin really should have learned that 'Dumbledore' was the wrong word to say, especially when Severus was holding a red-hot knife in his hand. Moron. The wolf didn't scream this time, but his ill-advised speech was cut short by a gasp of pain, a gasp that morphed into a growl as Severus slowly re-carved the last letter and went on to carve a few more.
He returned the knife to the brazier when the blade had grown too cold to cauterize, and reached for the dark tincture with his latex-protected hand. Now the wolf screamed, and despite his splitting headache Severus rejoiced in the sound, his mouth involuntarily curling in a vindicated smile as he poured the corrosive substance into the wounds.
That was the crucial difference between torturing an innocent victim and torturing a personal enemy: one didn't need to be a sadistic psychopath nor be deliriously high to enjoy the latter.
"Neither killing you nor obliviating you is part of my plans, mongrel," he said as he estimated the space required by the remaining letters. "Why would I have screwed you, if I planned so?"
"I would have thought you'd do it for the pleasure of it," muttered Lupin gruffly. "And to punish me."
"You thought wrong. You're the last creature on earth I'd fuck if I were looking for pleasure," half-lied Severus as he reached for another knife with his dragon-protected hand. "And as you can see, there are far more effective, considerably less strenuous methods to punish a werewolf, if inflicting pain is the only goal."
There was another pause filled with pain, and screams, and disturbingly arousing grunts. The way Lupin kept squirming and clenching his arse, thrusting his pelvis against the cot as if seeking sexual relief, he might as well be begging to be impaled again, and repulsive as the idea was Severus felt darkly tempted to oblige him.
"Stop wriggling!" he snapped instead, willing his cock to deflate as he struggled to carve a particularly curly grapheme. "It is hard enough to write with a burning knife when the surface is not moving, my calligraphy will be atrocious if you don't keep still."
"I don't give a fuck about your calligraphy!"
"You should. Laughter will follow you everywhere if you go around with a crooked or irregular tattoo on your back. And I assure you, this is not the sort of tattoo that can be fixed or removed."
"What?" croaked Lupin, a note of panic in his voice. "You're marking me permanently?"
"That is the traditional definition of a tattoo," drawled Severus. "It should reassure you, wolf. I wouldn't be decorating your body if I intended to dispose of it, and only a halfwit would stamp a reminder on your back before obliviating you."
"A reminder? What-"
The question became a howl of pain as Severus poured a generous amount of dark tincture into the open wound.
"A reminder of what?" demanded the werewolf when he could speak again.
"A reminder that your arse belongs to me now," said Severus smugly. "It basically says you're my bitch."
Lupin froze. For a long moment there was only silence, wordless building up of tension as the wolf processed the implications, and then...
"You're a idiot, Severus!" exploded the creature. "Why let me live if you're just going to get me killed? You think I can go back to my pack with that branded on my bloody back? I'm naked all the time amongst my kind, they'll see... And you signed your fucking name? Are you out of your mind?!"
Despite everything, Severus couldn't help laughing. This night had been horrifying and stressful in many different ways, but it had also been the most fun he had had in years.
"You think this is funny?" snarled the wolf, struggling against his chains more ferociously than he had so far. "If your little joke doesn't get me killed, it'll render me useless. I can't keep control of the pack if they don't respect me, if they know someone managed to overpower me! And how do you think they'll interpret your claim? You're a bloody Death Eater! It'll be like declaring myself for Vol-"
"Don't say the name!" snapped Severus, his amusement ebbing away just as quickly as it had come. "And stop whining! This is not the end of the world, Lupin, no need to freak out. I won't be signing my real name, and the entire inscription is in Aramaic, so unless you have some werewolf in your pack versed in ancient languages there is no risk of anyone finding out."
That shut him up. Severus took advantage of the temporal bafflement of his victim to resume his carving, and found with a mixture of satisfaction and annoyance that Lupin could keep still and quiet if he wanted. He didn't even scream the next time Severus poured the caustic poison into his open flesh, simply locking his jaw and breathing hard through the pain like the unnaturally stoic creature he was supposed to be.
It was worlds easier to work this way. Severus didn't feel tempted to neither fuck nor stab the wolf when he wasn't being provoked into drastic actions, and he could concentrate much better on Aramaic's morphology and syntax without constant distractions. His decreasingly-intoxicated state still determined he felt more like a crap with each passing second, restless craving and ill-tempered fatigue competing for every bit of his attention, but he had worked in far worse conditions so he knew he could pull through.
Before he knew it, he was applying the dark fixative on the last smoking grapheme. Leaning back, he allowed himself a few seconds to admire his handiwork before proceeding to execute the final step of the gruesome operation that was imprinting a permanent tattoo on a werewolf. Lupin tensed again when he felt the Dark Magic gathering around them, no doubt sensing the hostile advent of a curse darker than his own, but he didn't raise any objections nor tried to break free, apparently resigned to wearing a humiliating reminder of this night for the rest of his pathetic existence.
Severus only regretted there were so very few people in Britain who could read Aramaic.
Once the deed was done and sealed, the rest was just cleaning up the mess and making sure all his hard work wasn't for nothing —as it would be if Lupin died from acute poisoning or blood loss. The wolf certainly seemed to have taken a turn for the worse in the last five minutes, any remaining fight in him exhausted or crushed by dark forces he was too weak to oppose at the moment. Severus couldn't help worrying when he noticed how pale and cold he was, but he didn't let himself be lulled him into complacency by the apparent lethargy of his victim. For all he knew the treacherous creature might be faking weakness, waiting for Severus to lower his guard to jump at him and get revenge on his arse —that's certainly what he would do if their positions were reversed.
Mindful of such risk, he didn't set the wolf completely loose just yet, only vanishing the conjured chains while keeping the silver restraints safely cuffed around his wrists. With considerable physical effort —the fortifying potions had already worn off—, he none-too-gently repositioned the uncooperative Marauder until he was again half-hanging, half-propped against the wall, a position that granted him easy access to the sectumsempra cut on his thigh. Unfortunately the new angle also put him face to face with Lupin's flaccid manhood, a revolting sight that Severus did his best to ignore while he worked to close the wound.
"Why did you do it?" rasped Lupin weakly during a pause in his chanting. "If not for the pleasure of it... if not to punish me... why?"
"The answer to that question should be obvious to you, wolf," said Severus irritably as he siphoned some of the blood to check if the bleeding had stopped.
"It's not obvious," said Lupin, every word seeming to cost him a conscious effort. "I thought you had done it... on an impulse... but you planned it, didn't you? Took the cocaine on purpose... makes no sense..."
"Makes perfect sense," argued Severus, running his wand one last time over the wound before moving to assess the wolf's general health.
"It doesn't. I can see I disgust you, but you fucked me anyway. Bare. Can't believe you'd take the risk... on purpose." Lupin shifted in place, wincing when he stupidly scrapped his back against the rough stone. "This tattoo... makes no sense either. Why would you carve a humiliating message on my back... if nobody can read it?"
"I didn't say no one can read it," corrected Severus in between diagnostic spells. All the results he had gotten so far indicated that Lupin should be dead, which only came to prove the mongrel was an unnatural creature sustained by pure darkness.
"I somehow doubt there are many... wizards in Britain who can read... Aramaic," said Lupin dryly. "Crouch, perhaps... but he's dead. Dumbledore, probably... Who else?"
"The Dark Lord," said Severus, rummaging in his pocket for a Blood-Replenishing Potion —only to realize that he wasn't wearing robes nor carrying the usual assortment of potions, nothing in his pockets besides a small supply of physical boosters and some cocaine. "The Dark Lord is fluid in Semitic Languages, I learned Aramaic from him. The message on your back is intended for his eyes only."
Whatever colour Lupin had still had suddenly drained from his face.
"You mean to deliver me to Vol-"
Severus shoved a phial into his mouth before he could finish the name.
"Don't be an idiot," he hissed as he forced the wolf to swallow the potion. "The last thing I want is for you to come into contact with the Dark Lord."
Not giving Lupin time to comment, Severus uncorked another Invigorating Draught and forced it down his throat as well, then did the same with all the Fortifying Tonics he had left. That should keep the beast alive for the moment, but some blood-replenishing was still urgently required so he marched off immediately in search of more potions —he had brought only elements of destruction into the torture chamber, an oversight that reflected all too well the dark mood he had been in when he had decided on this course of action.
Severus had half-expected to find Dumbledore lurking right outside the door, trying to eavesdrop on their activities, but the hallway was mercifully empty, and a quick Homenum Revelio confirmed the old creep wasn't snooping around his bedroom or study either. Perhaps the meddling Headmaster had finally understood the concept of privacy? Unlikely, but at least he was staying out of this, unwilling to alienate his spy completely for the sake of a less valuable pawn.
It gave Severus no small measure of satisfaction to imagine the old fool helplessly waiting in his office, pacing around his desk in concern and frustration, while Lupin bled out and screamed his throat raw down here. Knowing that he was letting this happen inside his school, as he had let many other things happen during his tenure as Headmaster. Not that Severus expected Dumbledore to ever admit even to himself that he had done anything wrong, of course, much less take responsibility for all the lives he had ruined with his neglectful scheming. For all his talk of remorse, Dumbledore felt none, at least not regarding anything he had done in the last fifty years. The righteous bastard would never admit that it had been a mistake to welcome a young werewolf as a student, putting hundreds of children in danger. Even today, he still believed not expelling Black after the Shrieking Shack incident had been the right to do, as it had been to threaten Severus with expulsion if he talked about it. To this day, he would not admit it had been his fault that so many Slytherin students had ended up joining the Dark Lord the first time around, nor that his blatant favouritism for Gryffindors was a recruiting strategy to fill up his own personal army. All for the Greater Good.
Incensed at the Headmaster, Severus fumed all the way to his private lab, and continued fuming as he made his way back through the semi-demolished passage with his portable medical chest in tow. He was only distracted from his mental rant when he made a stop at the bathroom to relieve himself and noticed that his urine was an ominous brown colour. The sight was slightly concerning, but entirely unsurprising, and frankly not as bad as it could be —certainly not the most alarming colour he had produced. It worried him more the tender inflammation of his precious cock, but that also was to be expected after so much friction, it didn't necessarily mean he had caught some nasty disease —or Merlin forbid, some form of Lycanthropy— from the wolf.
Deciding to perform a Cleansing Ritual at the first opportunity (as soon as he was hale enough to survive it), Severus occluded that last concern away and flushed the evidence of his organic failure before setting off again, reluctantly directing his steps back into that stuffy torture chamber that smelled like his rotten soul.
Lupin was still alive, unfortunately, he even seemed to have perked up a little with the invigorating draughts, but he still resembled more an Inferius than a living person, only his alert expression setting him apart from a corpse. There was a part of Severus that wanted to turn around and let the foul creature die, get rid at last of this eternal source of nightmares, but he had already made his decision, so instead he knelt by the Marauder's side and proceeded to fill him up with healing potions. Half a dozen phials of Blood-Replenishing Potion, to begin with, followed by several restoratives, a poison neutralizer, post-Cruciatus Elixir, anti-shock, anti-inflammatory and anti-infective potions, a stomach soother to keep everything down... he even gave him a strong pain reliever and cast a warming charm on him, a gesture that he instantly regretted when Lupin smiled gratefully at him.
"I didn't do it for your comfort, mongrel," he spat as he diluted a pinch of Rehydration Powder in a jar of conjured water.
"I'm still grateful," said Lupin, sighing almost happily.
Severus was loath to grant the wolf even more physical relief, but he wasn't going to sit here like a bloody nurse holding a cup to his lips whenever he was thirsty, so he reached for the silver cuffs and released one of his hands as well.
"Two sips per minute," he instructed sternly as he conjured a goblet and filled it with rehydrating solution.
After charming the liquid to shine blue every sixty seconds as a reminder, Severus placed both goblet and jar within the wolf's reach and retreated to the other end of the cell. He would have rathered reclaim his armchair on the visitor's side of the room, putting a heavy line of iron bars between him and the werewolf, but he didn't trust himself to sit within snorting reach of those highly tempting lines of cocaine he had left on hold, so he remained inside the cell, settling in the only chair available and angling his new seat so as to keep the beast on sight.
The prisoner's armchair was just as soft and elegant as Salazar's, a majestic piece of furniture many would pay to merely behold, but Severus didn't feel half as comfortable sitting here, resting his exhausted body in a chair that might have accommodated Godric Gryffindor's arse a thousand years ago —it was said that Godric had spent a fortnight locked up in this cell, imprisoned and possibly tortured by his fellow founder after some silly argument they had had. The official story —recorded by Rowena, who had eventually noticed Godric's absence and come to look for him with Helga as backup— claimed that Godric and Salazar had spent those two weeks simply talking, but just as there were good reasons to think some torture might have taken place Severus wondered if some of the more salacious stories —the ones that claimed Salazar had spent those two weeks buggering the noble Gryffindor— might hold some truth as well. Perhaps sexual sadism was a Slytherin trait? That would explain a lot...
"Why did you do it, then?" asked Lupin some quiet minutes later, disrupting Severus' mental enumeration of famous and not-so-famous Slytherin sadists through history. "Why carve a message for Voldemort on my back if you're not going to deliver me to him?"
Severus gritted his teeth, irritated all over again by the punishing pain that shot through his Dark Mark in response to the name. This too was Dumbledore's fault. None of these supposedly brave Gryffindors would dare uttering the Dark Lord's name if that old fool had not encouraged them to court death with their every breath. To make a habit of disrespecting and defying the most dangerous dark wizard of modern times, convincing them not to fear what they ought to fear so they would rush off to battle without a thought for self-preservation. Lily certainly wouldn't have defied the Dark Lord thrice if Dumbledore had not encouraged her; if he had used his influence to convince her to leave the country —like any Muggle-born with the means should have done at the time— instead of recruiting her for a war organization right out of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had spurred her defiance, painted an even brighter target on her chest, had even encouraged her relationship with Potter by making them both head students. He had set all the conditions for the Prophecy, and it was his fault too that Severus had overheard the damned prediction, his fault that Pettigrew had not been identified as a traitor, his fault that Lily had died-
Interrupting that line of thought before it could turn painful, Severus pressed two fingers between his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to put a lid on the ugly can of worms that was his life-long resentment towards the Headmaster. If something was out of control, it was this, this overwhelming hatred that urged him to ascribe every wrong in the world to Albus Dumbledore, making everyone else —including himself— seem innocent or forgivable in comparison. Such hatred was completely justified, but still, Severus had to get it under control, bottle it away and occlude against triggering thoughts, keep his resentment at bay like he had done for the last fifteen years.
He had to find a way, any way, to tolerate the fucking bastard.
Taking another deep breath, Severus finally looked up and glared at the wolf again.
"I am not delivering you to the Dark Lord, mongrel," he said as he wordlessly summoned the half-empty bottle of whisky he had left outside the cell, ignoring the little voice at the back of his head that strongly advised against it. "But that doesn't mean you will never have the honour of meeting him personally. He will definitely want to meet you, when news of Greyback's displacement reaches his ears, and if you don't attend him willingly no doubt he will attempt to force an introduction. No one can elude the Dark Lord forever, not if he really wants to find you, so it is likely you will eventually be captured and brought to his presence." Severus conjured another glass into existence and poured himself a generous measure of hard liquor before continuing, "If you ever find yourself in such a situation, you will not say a word about me, but you will advise him to take a look at your back before doing anything else. That tattoo might save your life and spare you the unique experience of being raped by the Dark Lord."
Lupin had looked increasingly afraid and worried as he spoke, but the fear in his eyes was quickly replaced by confusion, confusion that gave way to shocked realization.
"You did this... to protect me?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Hardly," drawled Severus as he uncorked a Sobering Potion and poured it into his glass. "That inscription could just as well be your death sentence. Or mine. The Dark Lord certainly will not be pleased to know I claimed you first, so if at all possible don't let yourself be captured."
"I... don't understand," said Lupin slowly. "Why would either of you want to... claim me?"
"For the same reason the Dark Lord fucked Greyback during the last war," said Severus as he added a Headache Reliever and a Standard Anti-toxin to his drink, mixing the whole thing with a wandless gesture before taking a cautious sip. He saw that Lupin was still staring at him in shock and confusion, so he reluctantly expounded on his answer, "By your own admission, you are the new alpha of the largest British pack, Lupin. Unless you were lying about that —in which case you got screwed and tortured for nothing— you are now the werewolf to kill... or the werewolf to fuck."
He let the wolf ponder that piece of reality while he imbibed his medicated whisky, on his part trying his best not to ponder about that. If he could wipe his own memories, erase from his mind what he had done tonight, he'd gladly do it, but unfortunately that wasn't an option. Severus could only find temporary oblivion in drugs, and drugs would not be an option beyond tonight —unpleasant as it would be to disintoxicate, hard as it would be to resist after so fresh a remembrance of how good it could feel, he had to stop while he still could, while he still had the will to stop. He had to close this door, break free from the circle of addiction, get rid of the heroin before he could go there, quit all this stuff, the cocaine, the Dreamless Sleep, even the alcohol...
But not just yet, he thought with relief as he emptied his glass in one swallow and refilled it with pure, unadulterated whisky. This night was not yet over, he still had a few hours of self-allowed dissolution left. More than enough time to put those lines of cocaine to good use, time for a second round...
His lip curled in self-disgust. There was not going to be a second round. It made Severus sick just to think about it, even as a dark thrill ran through his body making his cock pulse with need. He didn't want to do it again, but in some repulsive way he was tempted, some internal mandate urging him to explore this new dimension of darkness he had discovered, to seize the moment and-
"You speak as if it were a matter of dominance," said Lupin, cutting through his licentious thoughts. "As if screwing me, and Fenrir before me, either you or Voldemort could gain control of the pack. But humans can't affect the werewolf hierarchy. I'll admit you're far more dominant than I am, and you know how to drive a point across..." Lupin grimaced and shifted uncomfortably at the memory, making Severus feel nauseously smug. He might have used drugs and potions to overcome his qualms, but the sex drive was all his, as was his sizeable cock. "Your display of dominance was effective, I won't deny that, but you fucked me as a human, not as a wolf, so it won't affect the hierarchy. Even if you could displace me as an alpha, you could not control the pack during the full moon, not unless you became a werewolf yourself."
"It appears you are not only ignorant, but also unobservantly stupid," drawled Severus derisively as he diluted another Headache Reliever into his drink. "You were part of Greyback's pack during the last war, Lupin, so you must have participated of several carnages under his leadership..."
"I didn't-"
"Don't bother denying it," cut him off Severus scathingly. "You might have joined Greyback on Dumbledore's orders, but you were there, savaging innocent people alongside your fellow monsters. You couldn't have avoided it if you were part of his pack."
"Not all the members of the pack participated of those massacres," argued Lupin. "Wolves too young or too recently converted were often left behind, as were unruly wolves and all the females. Anyone who could be a distraction during the full moon was kept away. In my case, Fenrir didn't bring me along because he knew I was likely to challenge him for dominance in the midst of battle."
Severus frowned. He had always assumed Lupin had been one of those werewolves killing or contaminating people in the front lines, it didn't sit well with him to be told otherwise.
"Well, if you had been there," he said grudgingly, "you would have seen the Dark Lord up close. He always enjoyed showing off his power and witnessing the destruction he wrought, so he was usually present in those carnages, marching alongside Greyback and the other werewolves as if they were his war dogs. It was part of his myth, how he could walk with werewolves during the full moon without fear of being attacked."
"I heard about that," said Lupin with a frown of his own. "I always assumed he used Dark Magic to keep them at bay."
"It is Dark Magic," said Severus. "Just as it is Dark Magic what binds all the filthy beasts in your pack to you. You perform ritualistic magic every time you fuck one of your kind into submission, Lupin, particularly when you force another alpha under your yoke. The sex ritual intended to bind a werewolf to a wizard has slightly different effects, because of the natural incompatibility of the species, but the requirements are the same. There has to be darkness on both sides, physical dominance, consummation, a sacrifice... and it only works if the werewolf in question is free from any other bindings, which means-"
"Which means that Voldemort cannot bind me to him as long as I belong to you," finished Lupin, his eyes widening in understanding. "He can't gain control of the pack even if he overpowers me, because I'm not the alpha anymore."
"You are still the alpha," clarified Severus, "I have not displaced you, only put a leash on you, so to speak. Your pack is still yours to control and command, but as I hold your leash, any werewolves that follow you indirectly follow me as well —not that I have any wish to lead you anywhere, you can all chase your tails every full moon for all I care, I won't be coming anywhere near you if I can help it."
"But you could be close during the full moon?" asked Lupin with interest. "You could walk with us without being attacked?"
"In theory, yes," said Severus, shuddering at the thought of such proximity. He absolutely did not intend to ever put the efficacy of this ritual to the test. "At the very least you shouldn't be able to attack me anymore, I would only be safe from the rest as long as you remained in charge. That is not why I did this, though. The purpose of binding you to me is to make impossible for another wizard to tame you, I have no interest in using such influence myself."
As he watched Lupin take a few sips of hydrating solution with a pensive expression on his annoying face, Severus wondered why he was still sitting here, lazily sipping his own diluted drink while lecturing the mongrel about ritualistic sex and dark bonding. It was an interesting subject, to be sure, but not one he wished to discuss with his naked victim after a practical demonstration that could be better categorized as rape —a demonstration that he felt too tempted to repeat. He wasn't in a mood to talk at all, what with his splitting headache making him hate the mildest sound, but for some reason he kept answering Lupin's questions, allowing the nosy Marauder to draw him into conversation instead of enforcing silence with a spell or a muzzle.
He supposed it was his belief that Lupin needed to know these things what had loosened his tongue and armed him with more patience than he felt inclined to bestow. Apparently neither Dumbledore nor Greyback had seen fit to provide the wolf with all the information he needed to juggle his new role without dying nor getting screwed in the process, both blindsiding him to the most unsavoury dangers that came with the leading position of an army coveted by the Dark Lord. Lupin needed to know what he was really in for, what sort of threats to expect, to understand what was at stake and be prepared for the worst possibilities. He needed to know how tightly Greyback and the Dark Lord were bound, despite Greyback not being a Death Eater, how dangerous it would be to trust any werewolves closely aligned with that savage, and to understand how dangerous Severus' own position was, how important that the wolf played his role well, exercising caution and discretion instead of the standard Gryffindor idiocy. Severus was placing a lot of trust in Lupin, taking a huge risk letting him go not only alive and with his memories intact but sporting an ownership brand on his back, so he had to make sure the mongrel possessed the understanding required to at least not betray his trust out of sheer ignorance.
That was the official reason why he was patiently answering Lupin's questions, but Severus could admit to himself that it wasn't the main, or at least not the only reason. The truth was that he didn't want Lupin to leave this room thinking certain things about him, assuming motivations for his actions that were either wrong or inadmissible, personal proclivities that Severus didn't want to risk ever reaching Potter's or Black's ears. Just like he had lied about Lily earlier, to misdirect Lupin and ensure the meddling idiot didn't give the boy any more reasons to laugh at him, he would rather have this incident reframed as a simple sex ritual, a calculated —and very much isolated— event motivated by purely strategic considerations. He didn't want Lupin to think he secretly fancied him, that he had fucked him for the pleasure of it, as if he had a taste for men and he enjoyed this kind of thing. Which he most certainly didn't.
Even though there had definitely been pleasure and Severus had greatly enjoyed the whole thing.
The cocaine had contributed to the enjoyment, of course, but there had been more to it, a deeper sort of gratification, violent and raw, the fulfilment of a primal need he had been repressing for years, if not his entire life, and that even as a Death Eater he had never managed to fully satisfy —not with any woman, not in any consensual way. In all honesty, Severus couldn't remember having enjoyed sex half as much in the past, and the fact that this should be counted as his best experience perturbed him —not the least because it proved the Dark Lord right about him.
His master had insistently told him that he would enjoy screwing other men, if he ever put his revulsion aside and gave it a try, had gone so far as to affirm that it was something Severus needed, a vengeful sort of catharsis that he couldn't achieve with women no matter how hard he fucked them. He had said that only breaking what had broken him could he make himself whole again, heal the deepest wounds, and Severus could feel the truth of that wise opinion now.
It made him wonder what else his master had been right about. He had been right about Dumbledore, about the general hypocrisy of the light side, about the Muggle threat in all its forms, about the progressive loss of knowledge and magical freedom in the wizarding world. He had been right about the healing power of darkness, about the moral relativity of right and wrong, about the usefulness of fear, the importance of discipline, the value of natural talent. He had been right about Severus, about his potential and his ambitions, his demons and his struggles, even about his sexual needs.
What about love? Could he have been right about that too? Love was the one area the Dark Lord had always fallen short, the ruling force inside Severus' heart that his master had been unable to understand. According to Dumbledore, that was the Dark Lord's weakness, but Severus was beginning to believe it was the opposite, that maybe it truly was an advantage not to be able to feel love. He himself couldn't feel it right now, couldn't remember how it felt to love, he felt disconnected from the part of his heart that had cared about Lily, and without that... without that, he was free, unburdened. Without love, there was no remorse. The pain of loss was gone, as it was the guilt for his part in her death, the obligation to pay for that mistake protecting what she had died for... Except that now it was too late to break free, Severus had already sworn his life away in Lily's name, had made himself a slave of her cause and her son, and he couldn't renege on his foolish decision without dying.
The Dark Lord had said love was a weakness, and it clearly was, seeing how it had consumed Severus' life and made him betray everything that had once been important to him. Love had turned him against his master, driven a wedge between them, had stripped him of his pride and committed him to serve a man he despised, had hampered his youthful ambitions and even overridden his survival instincts on multiple occasions. Love had brought him nothing but fear and anxiety, pain and rejection, grief and despair. It had taken everything he had had to give without giving anything in return, draining his life away like a parasitic force that fed on guilt and disappointed hopes.
It was difficult to argue in favour of love when he examined the effects it had had over his life. More than a weakness, it looked like a terrible curse, one that fully justified the Dark Lord's hostile attitude towards it and that made his natural immunity seem like an enviable trait.
So yes, his master had been right about that too. He had been right about everything.
Severus knew that changing sides again wasn't an option, that his loyalty was now inexorably tied to Potter, but he wondered... If he hadn't sworn that bloody Vow, if his only bound were to the Dark Lord, being things as they currently were, his heart so cold and dark... would Dumbledore be right to fear his betrayal? If Lily no longer mattered and the Dark Lord had simply made a mistake, forgotten a meaningless promise in the heat of the moment, or even if he had deliberately acted to free Severus of his weakness... could he forgive his master? And if he could, would he rejoin him?
Saying that Severus was unhappy in his current situation would be the understatement of the century. His life on the light side was a bitter monotone of boredom and misery, stress and frustration, barely any joy or enjoyment allowed while he waited for a war that would almost certainly kill him. Even before this damnable year had rendered his position unbearable, part of him had wished for change, had longed to be rescued from this oppressive existence he was forced to endure, to be broken from his chains and be offered a chance to truly live. And who could offer more drastic change than the Dark Lord? Who could bring more excitement to his depressing life? The Dark Lord might be evil and cruel, but he sure knew how to have fun, and he made sure his subjects had fun too...
"Why the message, though?" asked Lupin suddenly, breaking through his reverie yet again. "Why would you want Voldem-"
"Don't say the name!" growled Severus.
"Right. Why would you want him to know what you did? If I were captured, wouldn't it be safer if he didn't know about this?"
"Safer for me, perhaps, not for you," said Severus irritably. "If the Dark Lord didn't know you are already claimed, he would rape you repeatedly for months, growing more frustrated every full moon that you remained ungovernable, until eventually killing you when he decided you couldn't be worked with. If he knew I've claimed your sorry arse, however, he might hesitate to even touch you."
"So you are trying to protect me," said the infuriating wolf.
"I couldn't give less of a damn about you, mongrel," spat Severus. "I am trying to protect people from the damage you and your army of blood-thirsty savages could do in the upcoming war. I would very much rather see you dead, but unfortunately if you died Greyback or some other bastard would take your place, and the Dark Lord would have an army of infernal creatures under his direct control within the year. I did this to ensure that doesn't happen."
"And yet you carved a mocking message on my back informing him that you are all that stands between him and control over me," said Lupin disapprovingly. "You have made yourself a target, Severus, ensured that he'll either have to kill you, to free me from your claim, or fuck you to get you in line."
"I don't see why it would matter to you either way," said Severus, feeling defensive and annoyed at being scolded by his helpless victim. "Don't pretend to care what happens to me, mongrel, I know you would enjoy seeing the tables turn on me."
"I would not. I don't wish you any harm, Severus, and I would never want to see you in this position. Despite everything, I bear you no ill will."
"Sure you don't," scoffed Severus. "Regardless, the Dark Lord knows that human dominance is independent from werewolf dominance, that screwing me into submission would not make a difference in that scenario, so unlike yours my arse is safe." That was a lie, of course, but he'd be damned if he admitted such an embarrassing plight to a bloody Marauder. "It would be a good reason to kill me, but I am valuable to the Dark Lord, I doubt he would kill me for a stunt I pulled while being drunk, high and angry, especially knowing that you and I have a personal history. More likely, after torturing me for a while he would decide to use my claim over you to control the werewolves by proxy, putting me in a position that would allow me to minimize the damage if you ended up aligned with the Dark Lord."
"I would never align myself with-"
"You might not have the luxury to choose," cut him off Severus harshly. "This is all worst case scenario, Lupin. What might happen if you're careless enough to let yourself be captured. You think your allegiance would matter then? It wouldn't. If the Dark Lord couldn't sway you to his side, he would simply keep you and your band of savages locked up most of the month and release you every full moon in a different muggle village. That, if he didn't directly kill you to clear the way for a more manageable alpha to rise. Make no mistake: if he got a hold of you, one way or another the werewolves would fall under his control. What I did might help minimize the damage in that scenario, but it's no guarantee, I might just get tortured for this and then be forced to lead the werewolf massacres myself, under strict supervision to make sure I cause as much damage as he would. I would very much appreciate if you never put me in that fucked-up position."
They subsided into silence again. On his side of the cell, still naked and chained to the wall, Lupin seemed lost in thought, a sombre expression on his face as he no doubt tried to come to terms with the precariousness of his situation. He looked completely recovered from his near exsanguination, perhaps even healthier than he had been when he had knocked at Severus' office door several hours ago, any and all discomforts temporary soothed by the battery of healing potions in his system. The pain and soreness would return eventually, when the analgesic and anti-inflammatory effects worn off, but for now he seemed perfectly at ease, the image of well-being and comfort.
Compared to him, Severus felt and no doubt looked like crap, his own unhealthy condition not so easily fixed nor managed with simple potions. He had taken several Headache Relievers, a Pepper Up to fight the crushing fatigue, a Calming Draught to lower his headache threshold, three different Health Restoratives, an Anti-toxin to clear some of the drugs, a Sobering Potion to ease the pressure on his mental shields... and he still felt awful. He knew that the only thing that would really help would be more drugs, another hit of cocaine or a taste of heroin with their own brand of magic that made it all better in an instant, but that wasn't a real solution, just a temporary fix that would make him feel even worse afterwards. Much as he wanted that fix, anything that would make him feel better now, he knew he had to stop this, deny this desperate craving...
He couldn't imagine teaching his morning classes without cocaine to boost him up, though, going through his busy day in full withdrawal after a night of sleepless debauchery. At this point getting high seemed more a necessity than an indulgence, a simple matter of functionality, something he would have to do to keep up the facade of sobriety. And if he was going to use again... why wait? Why suffer now when he could be having one last bit of fun? Chances were Severus would not live to enjoy another holiday, what with that deadly Vow hanging over his head and the Third Task fast approaching, not to mention the imminent summons of his murderous master. Why deny himself what might very well be his last opportunity to revel before he died? It stood to reason that he should live as much as he could while he still breathed, make the best of the time he had left, indulge and fuck as liberally as circumstances allowed...
"I get why you did it, Severus," said Lupin in a serious tone, finally emerging from his contemplation and meeting his predatory gaze with clueless naiveté. "And I understand what's at stake. I will do my best to avoid capture, both for my sake and for yours. But like you said, it might be out of my hands. If Voldemort wants me-"
Another jab of pain shot through his Dark Mark, but this time instead of berating the wolf for his lack of consideration and respect Severus embraced the offense, letting the pain fuel his dark determination. Lupin was going to pay tenfold for every syllabe of the Dark Lord's name he insisted on repeating. He would not be able to walk by the time Severus was done with him.
"...if Voldemort wants me, I expect he'll get me eventually. It's not as if I live in a safehouse surrounded by people I can trust. Any of my fellow werewolves could betray me any day, or someone might let slip our location and bring Voldemort upon us. Even if I could keep the pack contained and isolated, he would find us eventually, especially if Fenrir helps him. And then you will have to explain the message on my back."
"I believe the message is self-explanatory," said Severus sardonically. "I stated my claim clearly, and the Dark Lord has a filthy enough mind to fill in the blanks without needing a detailed description of events."
"You know what I mean. A message that only Voldemort can read, telling him he can't have what he wants, boasting that you beat him to it... he'll not take that well, Severus. You of all people should know how little tolerance Slytherins have for mockery. Imagine if it were Lily instead, if James had branded her like that before sending her to you..."
Amber liquid turned to ice as Severus' grip tightened around his glass, an angry haze throwing everything out of focus except the enraging images Lupin had conjured up with his words: Potter branding Lily, writing an ownership message on her delicate skin, making sure Severus saw it, smirking arrogantly as he showed off that permanent claim on her flesh and her soul. It would be the ultimate torment, the final victory, and the worst part of the nightmare was that it was real, it had already happened. Potter had claimed Lily's beautiful body, had rubbed his conquest in Severus' face, had made her officially his by marrying her, and while he had not tattooed his name on her back (not as far as Severus knew) he had left a permanent mark. That was what the boy was: evidence that Potter had claimed her, that he had taken the only good thing Severus had had in his life, the one thing he had wanted. And Severus had to face the evidence of that claim every day, was forced to address those green eyes by his name, bound to protect that torturous reminder that Lily had given herself to another —and not just any other, but to Potter.
"You would take it as a provocation, Severus," kept babbling the wolf, oblivious to the danger he was bringing upon himself, "a deliberate taunt impossible to forgive or ignore. The message you carved on my back is the same. You might have been able to argue personal issues between us if you had just fucked me, but that inscription makes clear to Voldemort that you were thinking of him when you did it."
"I wasn't thinking of him!" hissed Severus, feeling his magic crackle about him as his self-control faltered, his mental shields crumbling under the overwhelming pressure of drugs and powerless fury combined. "You understand nothing, Lupin!"
But the wolf seemed to understand more than Severus was ready to admit. Lupin had recognized the tattoo on his back for what it truly was: a provocation. A deliberate jibe at the Dark Lord. A fuck you note Severus had addressed to his master to let him know that he hadn't forgotten nor forgiven his broken promise; that he was vengefully pissed off because his clearly-stated wish that Lily be spared had been ignored.
All the altruistic reasons Severus had laid out for the wolf were true, but insufficient explanation for what he had done, since no amount of concern for innocent people, no strategic war advantage, could have induced him to fuck a freaking werewolf. Bare. To himself, he could admit that his main motivation for performing this sex ritual had not been altruism of any kind, nor an interest in keeping the werewolves out of the war, but pure, unadulterated spite. Severus knew that the Dark Lord would want Lupin, badly, so he had taken the mongrel first just to spite him, and he had carved that provocative inscription in Aramaic because he wanted his master to know he had done it out of spite. Not the most prudent thing he had ever done, perhaps, but he didn't care.
"It's not too late, Severus," said Lupin beseechingly. "The binding might be already done, but you can still erase the message-"
"What part of permanent you have trouble understanding?" asked Severus scathingly. "It is too late to take it back, mongrel. The message has been branded into your flesh and cursed into your soul, it cannot be removed. You will go to your grave with that tattoo on your back."
"You can smudge it somehow," suggested Lupin, "make it illegible, or cover it up, or flay the entire area... I know it would hurt, but I can take the pain, and you can't risk provoking Voldemort like this-"
"It's not your business what I choose to risk, Lupin, none of this is your bloody business!"
"Harry is my business!" argued the wolf. "And he needs you alive, Severus. It sounds like you're the only adult reliably looking after him, for whatever reason, the only one he can really count on even if you dislike him. You can offer him serious protection, perhaps special training someday, help him win the war. And it's not just Harry who needs you. What about your Slytherins?"
"That's even less of your business! Be quiet now, wolf!"
"There's a lot of people depending on you, Severus, people who need you alive and sober, you can't do stupid things like shooting heroine or mocking dangerous wizards. You have responsibilities, children to care for-"
"I said quiet, mongrel!"
"You shouldn't even go back to Voldemort, if there's a chance someone's been using the Marauder's Map to spy on you. What if he knows you have been helping Harry? What if he learns about your trial? And you shouldn't antagonize Dumbledore either-"
"ENOUGH!" bellowed Severus. "ONE MORE WORD AND I'LL CUT OFF YOUR TONGUE, LUPIN! I HAVE FOUR KNIVES READY TO CAUTERIZE AT HAND, SO DON'T TEST ME!"
He couldn't believe the nerve of the wolf. The spineless Marauder had never stood up to anyone, had avoided conflict and confrontation his entire life, and it was Severus who had to suffer his first attempt at speaking up? He had never said anything when his intervention would have been appreciated, hadn't given a damn when he should have, and now that his opinion wasn't welcomed he wouldn't. shut. up. And the nerve! Accusing Severus of going around doing stupid, reckless things like a bloody Gryffindor! Daring to mention the map, as if it weren't Lupin's fault that that blasted parchment had been returned to Potter last year and was now possibly in the hands of the enemy. Bringing up his Slytherins, insinuating that Severus was neglecting them, abandoning them, that he didn't care enough to stay sober...
Lupin had finally fallen silent, visibly cowed by the sight of red-hot knives ready to cut off his tongue, but Severus could still hear his outrageous words reverberating inside his skull. He brought his hands to his face, clawing at his forehead and temples in a fruitless attempt to disperse the insidious thoughts, calling on his shaky Occlumency to settle his mind and fend off the splitting headache, but it was no good, Lupin's admonishments kept stabbing his conscience, rising his anger, twisting his gut...
Of all the things the mongrel had said, that jab about his Slytherins was the worst, the accusation Severus couldn't easily shrug off. Because it was true that he was abandoning them. He hadn't neglected them, not in any perceivable way, but he had put Potter first, back in November, had chosen Lily's son over his own charges, carelessly swearing his life away without considering what would happen to them if he died. He hadn't thought about them either every time he had challenged Dumbledore lately, only worrying about maintaining his position in Hogwarts because of Potter, as if no one else mattered. As if no one else would be affected if he were sacked or arrested. All his students... and not just the Slytherins. The entire student body depended on him to pass their Potions exams, especially those about to sit their OWLs and NEWTs, and here he was, considering to spend one of the last days of revision chasing dragons. Shame on him.
Being reminded of his responsibilities sobered him up more than any Sobering Potion ever could, but it also made harder to remain sober. Severus wanted to escape his own emotions more than ever, to chase away the shame, the guilt, the feeling of powerlessness... the powerlessness more than anything. Because prioritizing his Slytherins at this juncture had never been an option available to him. All these years, he had known that the Dark Lord would return eventually, and he had known that when that day came his life would be either forfeited or committed to a higher purpose than teaching or guiding the young. His job as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House had always been primarily a facade, an excuse to keep him in Hogwarts, well-positioned as a spy and eventual protector of Harry Potter. Severus had known that this moment, this shift of priorities, would eventually come, that at some point his duty to his students would be relegated to a second place, so he wasn't really doing anything wrong, nothing he should be ashamed of. This shift had been anticipated and stipulated years ago, Severus had known and agreed, and yet...
And yet this wasn't what he had agreed to when Dumbledore had manipulated him into this path. He hadn't expected the right way forward to go this way, to feel this way, so completely wrong, like a betrayal to his own Self. He had not expected to grow to care about his students, nor to be needed by them, needed enough that his death would affect them, that not prioritizing his life for them would make him feel guilty and neglectful. He had never imagined his efforts to keep Harry Potter alive would put him at odds with Dumbledore, leaving him to carry his unwanted burden alone, subjected to the censure and mistrust of the man who had enlisted his help for this very mission. He hadn't expected to struggle with these... doubts, when the Dark Lord returned, to feel so conflicted, so trapped by yet another choice he regretted, unable to find Lily inside his heart. He hadn't thought his love could wane, that he could grow to resent Lily enough to crave freedom from her, to hate her claim on his soul just as much as he hated the Dark Lord's. When he had committed himself to protect Lily's son, he hadn't expected it would be quite so hard to even look at the brat, so much like his bloody father, so painful reminder of what he had lost. And he definitely hadn't expected to still be pestered by Marauders so many years later. To have those old wounds reopened and made bleed again. They were supposed to be gone, all of them, Potter and Pettigrew dead, Black rotting in Azkaban forever, Lupin cast out of society, all gone from his life, but instead it was like they had never left, they were all still tormenting him in their separate ways, Potter mocking him from beyond the grave with his green-eyed son, Pettigrew resurrecting his psychopathic master, Black provoking him into torture, Lupin exposing his secrets and tempting him into a whole new level of depravity.
Severus slid his hands down his face and looked up, his eyes taking in the ghastly scene before him. Red-hot carving knives glowing in the brazier, each used to carve ancient graphemes on a Marauder's flesh. Lupin, naked, shackled and bloodied, watching him with a mixture of wariness and concern. This was another turn of events Severus would have never expected. To find himself here on a school night, half-naked, intoxicated and spattered in blood, having recently fucked a male werewolf and wanting to do it again.
Not that he really wanted to bugger Lupin. Right now he didn't want to do anything but escape, go away, forget. He wanted to undo the deeds, untake the drugs, unsay the words. To go back in time a few hours and never get out of bed. He wanted to unswear the Vow, untake the Mark, unhear the Prophecy. Go back in time twenty years and never call Lily that damning word.
He didn't want to feel this way.
Not really sure what he was going to do, Severus climbed to his feet and stepped away from Gryffindor's legendary chair. Avoiding Lupin's eyes and overall disgusting sight, he walked past the burning brazier and marched out of the cell, his feet leading him right to temptation without conscious thought.
The lines of cocaine were exactly as he had left them, perfectly cut and ready to snort. Resting on the same table, the metal case holding his best stash of heroin looked even more appealing.
Severus willed the case open with a wave of his hand and stared at the contents. He wondered if the product was still good. Did this stuff expire? The cocaine had been more than good, but that batch was five years old at most, while this had been kept in store for at least a decade.
"Severus..." half-cautioned, half-implored the wolf. "Don't do it. Think of Harry..."
Was that supposed to be a reason not to get high? Lupin had entirely the wrong idea, if he thought Severus gave a fig about Potter. That boy was the source of all evils, the reason why Lily had been targeted, why she had died, why Severus had been forced to live on, why he was stuck at Hogwarts, why both Black and Lupin had disturbed his peace again this year. Potter's mere existence was the main reason why Severus wanted to escape Reality, why he wanted to lose himself in oblivion.
At least for a little while, he wanted to forget his Vow.
He wanted to forget that the brat now knew too much about his embarrassing past.
He wanted to forget that he was going to die for him.
"You'll be of no use to anyone if you're wasted," insisted the wolf. "You might even die if you mix that stuff up."
Severus scoffed. A little heroin wasn't going to kill him. His magic would never allow him to die in such an ordinary way. He would be useless under its influence, but that was his prerrogative. And Severus was sick of being forced to live or stay sober for usefulness sake. Just so others could benefit from his talent or sacrifice. They all just wanted to use him, no one cared about him.
"I will call Dumbledore if you take heroin, Severus," warned Lupin. "For your own good, and Harry's."
Hit by a sudden wave of irritated disbelief, Severus jerked his head around and glared at the beast through the bars of its cage. Clearly he hadn't fucked the creature hard enough, if it dared threatening him. Lupin hadn't gotten the point at all, didn't understand the meaning of his new tattoo.
Plainly he needed the message to be spelled out for him.
Severus' glare turned predatory as he regarded his insolent victim. He wondered if the wolf would put up a fight this time. Would he try to call for Dumbledore? Perhaps he should gag him? Severus liked to hear him curse, though, and he wanted to hear him say the Dark Lord's name while he fucked him. Dumbledore's name too. And Potter's. It would all spur him on.
Disturbingly, Severus realized that he might be able to do it without cocaine to aid him. But he really felt like crap, too exhausted to keep up any physical activity, his headache a real killjoy, and besides...
Besides, everything is more fun on cocaine, he thought with relish as he leaned over to inhale the first line.