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January 31, 2004
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Harry Potter. Books and movies.
Disclaimer: Rowling, not me.
More
fic: http://prillalar.com/
LJ: http://prillalar.livejournal.com/
Challenge:
62) Snape is making progress with the
Wolfsbane potion, but to
continue working on it he must have 24/7
access to Lupin to observe
and record subtle changes.
Notes: Thanks to Kest
for alpha and beta and for
picking out the challenge for me. Thanks
to Am-Chau for answering
questions on UK English. I didn't have time
to get a full Brit beta
on this, so all remaining errors are my
own.
Snape, you bastard, this is for you. I think you know
why.
Misanthropy, Lycanthropy, and the Pursuit of
Knowledge
by Halrloprillalar - hal@prillalar.com
"Why are
you working on this now?" Remus asked.
"One must do something,"
Snape said with a twist of his lip. It
might have been a sneer. But
whether Snape was sneering at Remus or
at himself, Remus couldn't
tell.
And, after all, one must do something. So Remus was
here.
*
The letter had surprised
him.
Making adjustments to Wolfsbane potion. Come at once
for
tests.
Snape hadn't developed any social graces
recently then. Or, Remus
suspected, he knew very well what was
required by etiquette and
rejected it as being a useless waste of
time. But Snape had long
since failed to shock or dismay Remus. He
wondered if anything
could anymore.
He'd received a similar
invitation, if one could call it that, four
years previous, when the
potion was in development and Snape had
taken on the task of
perfecting it for general use. Remus had
survived both Snape and the
experiment, luckily. Really, the
memories were almost pleasant -- a
lazy summer at Hogwarts, hours
to spend reading in the library,
writing a paper. It seemed much
longer ago.
Now it was the
end of a long, dark summer, the long dark summer.
Sirius gone and Voldemort revealed and Harry depressed and everyone
in danger and Sirius dead and lost and gone. He had only just come
back.
Remus had spent the months in Grimmauld Place. The Order
was
stretched thin now, many of them travelling, some gathering
information, others standing guard. Remus was the one who stayed
behind now, to co-ordinate. To wait.
People apparated in and
out, said hello, gave him information, and
left again. Sometimes they
drank a cup of tea. But nobody stayed
for long. Remus occupied
himself with reading reports, writing
reports, dispatching reports,
and sitting alone in the dim. The
rooms smelled of dust.
If
he stayed there alone much longer, Remus sensed, he'd end up
sitting
at his desk, fingers cramping as he wrote, the rest of him
silent and
still, covered in the same fine dust. A change, even if
it meant
spending time with Snape, would do him good. And if they
could
improve the potion, so much the better. So he sent a few
owls, packed
his valise, and apparated to Hogsmeade. He'd have to
walk from
there.
The sun was shining, the sky was blue. Probably there were
birds
singing, somewhere along the way. Remus found himself wishing
for
rain. He could have thought about rain -- concentrated on
missing
puddles and worried about mud on his robes and fretted
about
whether his umbrella would hold out.
He didn't want
to think about meeting himself along the way.
Himself or any of the
others, laughing and talking, with no idea of
what was to come. This
was his third time back to Hogwarts as an
adult, but on this road,
Remus could only think of his own
schooldays, the happy memories he'd
tried so hard to leave behind
him.
Remus walked. His valise
was heavy and he shifted it from hand to
hand. Maybe three books had
been too many. It was warmer than usual
for August, and he was
beginning to perspire. He wondered what the
first words out of
Snape's mouth would be and told himself that if
he guessed correctly,
he would reward himself with a glass of
firewhisky before bed. Well,
an extra glass, anyhow. The first
glass was to help him sleep. The
second glass would be to help him
sleep well.
The castle
seemed blanketed in a sleepy haze, as though the stones
themselves
were enjoying the sun and lack of students. Remus met no
one in the
corridors. He had trouble finding Snape's workroom and
he was about
to start shouting for someone when it turned up.
He stood in
front of the door for a moment. The whole time he'd
been teaching
here, he'd never come to this room. He knew he
wouldn't be welcome.
He wasn't sure he was exactly welcome now,
only summoned. He knocked
and opened the door. Snape looked up with
a scowl. "It's about time
you arrived."
Score one glass of firewhisky for Remus Lupin.
"Lovely to see you
too, Severus." The room hadn't changed in four
years. Cauldrons
still lined the stone tables, some of them bubbling
gently over
purple flames. Books and scrolls were crammed into two
wooden
bookcases and a box of white mice rustled near the door. They
could
hardly be the same mice, of course, not unless Snape had
been
testing immortality potions. And the heavy cage still stood in
the
corner, though it was stacked full of books now. Remus set down
his
valise and walked over to it. He closed his hand around a
thick
iron bar. It was cool and smooth on his skin. "Have you kept
this
for sentimental reasons?"
Snape gave him a withering
look. "It was too much trouble to move."
"It must be useful for
threatening students."
"I never make threats," Snape said and
Remus smiled before he could
stop himself.
"No, I'm sure
you don't."
"May we begin?" Snape said. "Or shall I wait while
you ask after my
health?"
"Of course." Snape didn't look
all that well, actually. He was
always pale. But now he seemed almost
haggard.
"Well, come here," Snape said. "I'm not the one who
bites."
Perhaps this hadn't been the best choice for a holiday,
after all.
Remus stood in front of Snape while Snape waved a
somameter up and
down in front of him and recorded the
results.
"Now I need a few things from you. For
testing."
"What?"
"Hair," Snape said. He picked up
scissors and clipped a lock of
Remus's hair from just behind the
ear.
Remus reached up and rubbed at the place where it had been
cut. It
prickled against his fingers. "Don't spoil my good
looks."
Ignoring the remark, Snape held out a glass vial.
"Saliva."
Obligingly, Remus spat into the vial. He wiped his
mouth on the
back of his hand. "Is that it?"
"Blood."
Snape took a sanguinary out of a drawer.
Of course. Always blood.
Remus hoped he wouldn't be anaemic by the
time he left. "I should
have gone to the seaside," he murmured and
Snape looked at him
sharply.
Remus pushed the sleeve of his robe above his elbow.
There was a
sharp sting when Snape attached the sanguinary to the
inside of his
arm. They both watched the bright red blood well up and
drain into
the bottle. Remus looked at Snape. "How much do you
need?"
"Half a pint," Snape said. "You can spare
it."
"You need that much for the tests?"
"No." The
bottle was full and Snape pulled it away. "Werewolf blood
has all
sorts of uses."
At least Snape was honest about it. Remus started
to say something,
but he was too tired and Snape was too tired and it
wouldn't really
help anyhow. So long as this whole trip wasn't just a
ruse to drain
Remus of his blood. "Why are you changing the
potion?"
"I think it can be improved to make the transformation
easier. It's
still very painful, correct?"
Remus
nodded.
"I believe much of that discomfort can be
alleviated."
That wasn't really the question Remus had been
asking, but he knew
that was all the answer he would get. "I hope
you're right."
"All right," Snape said. "You can go. Be back
tomorrow morning for
the first dose." He took the blood and started
pouring it out into
small ceramic
jars.
"Severus."
Snape looked up. "I have quite a lot
to do. Did you perhaps require
a special treat for bravery? I believe
the healers gave me a
chocolate frog when I was six and broke my
arm."
A special treat for patience would be more to the point,
Remus
thought. But all he said was, "Where are my
rooms?"
Snape snatched up a piece of parchment and tapped it with
his wand.
"Carto." Silvery lines spread out into a small map. He
handed it to
Remus. "There. May I be allowed to return to my work,
now?"
Remus didn't answer, just picked up his valise and
left.
At least some things never
changed.
*
The rooms were halfway across the castle,
not far from where he had
lived when he had been Professor Lupin.
These were smaller. The
door was heavy oak and the walls were papered
in a bilious green
and yellow pattern that seemed to rotate and
swirl. Remus couldn't
tell whether it was an optical illusion or
simply enchanted. After
a while, it made him dizzy, so he tried not
to look at it.
It was still early, so Remus put away his things
and went down to
the library to find the Volkova treatise. Polyakov
had done some
important work on lycanthropy in the last year and
Remus had not
been able to afford a copy of his own.
The
library was deserted, but a stone gargoyle perching over the
door
hissed at him as he crossed the threshold. A recent addition.
Perhaps
the students had been more than usually careless recently.
Madam
Pince had changed her cataloguing system yet again and Remus
had to
search for the book. He finally found it, not on the
shelves, but in
a precarious stack by her office. A tattered sign
above read "Hold".
Remus took the book anyway. He would have it
back in a few
days.
He decided to read back in his rooms. The library chairs
had never
agreed with his back and the book-filled silence was a
little
unnerving right now. As he left, the gargoyle called after
him.
"Remus Lupin, Volkova treatise. Mind you bring it back
now."
Remus took a wrong turning on the way back, where a suit of
armour
had been moved to a new alcove, and it took him a while to
sort out
where he was. He thought he caught sight of one of the
ghosts but
it floated out of view before he could see who it
was.
A statue of Ulf Sigurdson came into view and Remus's feet
stopped
him dead before his brain could make him walk on by. The
statue
winked at him. Remus gave it an embarrassed wave. Just behind
the
statue was a secret room, more like a secret cupboard really,
filled with broken furniture, metal flagons, and a huge framed
painting of Helga Hufflepuff herself.
It was there that Sirius
had pulled him one time -- the only time,
back then -- and they had
spent a flushed half-hour together while
Helga complained that she'd
been meant to be stored there for three
weeks while her wall was
cleaned and restored and she'd been stuck
for two hundred years.
"You'll tell them I'm here, won't you?" she
kept saying, until Sirius
turned her to the wall. Remus supposed
she was still in
there.
Back in his rooms, he tapped his wand on the plate behind
the door
and ordered supper from the house elves. "Could you tell
me," he
said, once he'd convinced them he really didn't need the full
seven
courses, "if any of the staff are in
residence?"
"Only Professor Snape, sir. Do you need anything
cleaned or
pressed?"
Remus managed to dissuade the elf from
washing all his clothes,
drawing him a bath, and singing him a
lullaby at bedtime. He
settled down to read, parchment at his elbow
for notes. The chair
was comfortable and there was a stool for his
feet. So long as he
kept his eyes off of the wallpaper, the room was
quite cheerful.
While he was immersed in the results of a study
on sleep
deprivation in the pre-transformative state, a fly buzzed
past him.
He batted blindly at it. It dove at him again, then began
circling
his head. Remus looked up and saw that it wasn't a fly at
all, but
a tiny glowing message bead. He held out his hand and the
bead
settled into it, unwrapping into a piece of
parchment.
Do you have the Volkova
treatise?
Unsigned, of course. Remus supposed Snape wanted
him to trot down
and hand it over. But the book was really very
interesting and the
chair was really very comfortable and Snape
hadn't actually asked
for the book.
Remus wrote yes
below Snape's question and tossed the
parchment into the air. It
rolled itself back into a ball of light
and zipped away.
It
returned almost immediately. Remus let it buzz about until he
could
no longer ignore it.
I need it.
Still no
request. I imagine so, Remus wrote and sent it off
again.
Snape's next message had an angry red
glow.
Good lord, man, stop playing games and bring me the
book.
Maybe playing games had been a little thoughtless. He
and Snape
were at least on civil terms these days. It wouldn't do to
spoil
that. And yet, Remus was damned if he'd fetch and carry for
Snape.
Come and get it.
He sent the bead
spinning off. He was in the middle of a chapter,
but he didn't think
he'd get it finished before Snape came storming
in, so he just left
it.
His supper arrived first. The house elves must have been
bored
because they had prepared more food than Remus usually ate in
three
full days. Delicious smells filled the room and his mouth began
to
water.
He had just begun to eat when the door burst
open. Snape's eyes
were dark, his mouth pinched. Spots of colour
stood out high on his
cheekbones. Remus felt a pang of regret. There
was really no need
for him to make Snape angry.
The book
lay open on the table. Snape strode in and pounced on it.
It made
Remus think of a hawk, stooping on its prey. Snape wheeled,
and
sailed to the door.
"I'm sorry," Remus said and it brought Snape
up short. "But you
really were very imperious."
Snape
turned. "This is for your benefit, as I'm sure you know. I
would
think you would be more willing to assist me."
"Yes." Remus
couldn't summon the energy to be angry in return, or
even to be much
annoyed. "One would think I would be willing to
pack up and travel at
moment's notice. One would think I would
allow myself to be poked and
prodded. Even let my blood be drained
from my body." He smiled. "I
must seem very ungrateful."
"You should not attempt sarcasm,"
Snape said. "You do it very
poorly."
"I suppose I do,"
Remus said. The livid spots were fading from
Snape's face and Remus
could once again see how drawn he was. He
wondered how long Snape had
been alone in the castle. "Have you
eaten?" he heard himself
say.
Snape moved his head sharply. "What?"
"There'splenty
for two." Remus seemed to recall that Snape was
somewhat less
irritable after a good meal.
Snape stared, as though Remus had
suggested Morris dancing on the
Quidditch pitch. "I have no
time."
"We can discuss the effects of sleep-deprivation on
lycanthropes in
the pre-transformative state," Remus said and the
prospect of a
real conversation on a scholarly topic, even with
Snape, enticed
him as much as the chops and roast
potatoes.
"I cannot discuss something I have not yet read." Snape
held the
book close to his chest, as though he expected Remus to
spring at
him and snatch it away.
"I'll explain the study
to you."
"If I thought that would be sufficient, I would hardly
need the
book, would I?"
That stung. A harsh reply was
almost out of Remus's mouth, but he
bit it back. He wasn't going to
give Snape the satisfaction. "Then
take the book," he said instead,
"and go."
Something rapped against the windowpane. Remus looked
over to see
an owl perched on the narrow sill, beating a staccato on
the glass.
He let it in. A report from Shacklebolt in France. He
skimmed it --
nothing that couldn't wait.
When he turned
around, Snape was gone and the owl was pecking at
his pork
chop.
Remus had three glasses of whisky before bed and dreamed
that he
was chasing rabbits through the woods, filling his belly with
their
hot blood.
*
Sunlight woke Remus early. His
anger had faded overnight and now he
was just tired.
A huge
breakfast was on the table: sausages and bacon and kidneys.
Remus
drank tea and ate toast and jam.
Two more owls arrived for him.
More news from the Order. Nothing
too bad, nothing too good. Just
more fodder for his endless
reports.
At ten, he went down
to Snape's workroom. There was no sunshine
there. A haze of green
smoke hung in the air and Remus couldn't
help but cough when he came
in.
"It's not ready yet," Snape said. "Half an
hour."
Come back in half an hour, Remus supposed that meant, but
he
spotted the Volkova on the stone tabletop beside a vial of blue
liquid and a rat's skull. There was an armchair in the back, next
to the cage. Judging by the look he received as he sat, he might
have to worry about untraceable poisons in his potion, but as Snape
didn't actually say anything, Remus ignored the look and tried to
find his place in the book. Snape had a bookmark in the section on
physiological changes through the monthly cycle so Remus started in
on that instead. He was most of the way through the chapter when he
realised Snape was standing in front of him.
"Drink this,"
Snape said and thrust a goblet at him. The cup was
warm, almost hot,
and smoke poured out of it. Remus sipped, not
wanting to burn his
tongue. It was foul, Wolfsbane always was, but
there was a different
tang to it, something coppery on the back of
his tongue. He drank the
rest in three swift gulps, then stood and
set down the
goblet.
"I could do with that chocolate frog now," he said. The
potion had
a dry, cottony aftertaste. "Or a cup of
tea."
Snape didn't offer any. He picked up his somameter and
waved it
around Remus again. "Come back tomorrow for another
dose."
Remus tucked the book under his arm but he didn't quite
make it to
the door before Snape spotted it. "I still require the
Volkova," he
said.
For a brief, hysterical moment, Remus
considered just taking the
book and running. But likely Snape really
did need it for his
research. He set it down and went over to the
cage where most of
Snape's books were stored. He thought he'd
glimpsed...yes, Arroyo
on Stealth Charms. He managed to get it out
without toppling the
whole stack. "I'll just read this in the
meantime,"he said and
didn't wait for Snape's glare before
leaving.
But he paused at the door. "I thought I would walk into
Hogsmeade
this afternoon," he said. The faint invitation hung in the
air like
the smoke. Remus coughed again.
"I have, as you
can see, many demands upon my time." Snape inclined
his head to a row
of bubbling cauldrons. "I do not have the leisure
for foolish
dawdling."
Remus didn't speak. He was done being friendly. He
left, taking the
Arroyo with him. Then he went back to his rooms and
started in on
the messages he'd received, eating sandwiches with one
hand and
making notes with the other.
It was quiet. Warm
and bright and quiet, unlike the damp, dark
quiet of Grimmauld Place.
But still silent, still empty. Remus set
down his quill and went out
to shake the dust off.
He took the walk slowly. The fatigue was
creeping up on him, the
aches in his limbs and the vague unwell
feeling. Aside from the
change itself, he thought, lycanthropy was a
lot like influenza. He
shaded his eyes from the sun and thought about
werewolf physiology.
Hogsmeade was bustling. Remus poked about a
few shops and bought
some sweets to send to Harry when he got back to
Hogwarts. Or was
Harry too old for that now? No, though Remus
supposed he might
prefer one of those Muggle magazines James was
always sneaking into
school, the ones they passed around and laughed
red-faced over.
Well, Harry was on his own there. He'd have to make
do with
chocolate frogs and peppermint toads.
The Three
Broomsticks was crowded when Remus arrived. But the
crowds parted for
him. A few people turned their backs. He'd got
used to this, or
thought he had, but it did rather spoil the
afternoon. He didn't stop
for a drink, just got himself a new
bottle of whisky and
left.
Out in the street, he looked up at the Shack, alone on its
hill,
looming at him. It should be torn down, he thought. Burnt,
smashed,
made into toothpicks and shipped to America.
He
walked back to Hogwarts. On his way to the owlery, he passed the
library. "Remus Lupin, Volkova treatise," the gargoyle called after
him. Remus wondered what would happen to him if it was never
returned. He imagined the gargoyle perching on the end of his bed,
croaking out "Remus Lupin, Volkova treatise" every time he dropped
off to sleep.
He reached the corridor down to Snape's workroom
and paused there a
moment, wondering if he should take a chance on
getting the book.
"I shouldn't if I were you," said a painting of a
tall, thin wizard
at a chessboard.
"Has something gone
wrong, then?"
"I was speaking," the wizard said, pushing a pawn
ahead,
"generally."
Good advice, likely. And he should be
reading about the Stealth
Charms anyhow. At least they would be
useful for the Order.
Remus sent his parcel off to Harry, then
went up for a nap. He
didn't wake until the evening. The moon was in
the sky, one day
away from full, and it tugged at him, made him
restless and
unsettled.
He closed the curtains. The bottle
of firewhisky stood on the
table. Remus opened it and read Arroyo
until he was sleepy again.
*
Snape wasn't in his
workroom in the morning. Instead, there was a
note scrawled on the
back of a first year exam and propped up on
the Volkova
treatise.
Called away. Take one gobletful potion, cool, drink.
Take reading
with somameter and record results
carefully. If not back, take
reading before
transformation as well.
That was all. Remus ladled out the
potion, splashing a few steaming
drops onto his wrist. His hand
jerked and green liquid ran down the
side of the goblet. He set it
down and cleared up the mess. His
wrist was red, but not burnt.
As
the Wolfsbane cooled, Remus looked around. Snape seemed to have
four
other potions on the go, each labeled, but cryptically. One
frothy
orange brew made him lightheaded when he looked inside the
cauldron.
The purple flame beneath it sputtered and died. Was it
meant to do
that? Or should the potion go on simmering? Remus
watched it for a
few moments, then lit the fire again, hoping he
was doing the right
thing, but suspecting that whichever choice he
made would turn out to
be the wrong one. No doubt Snape would have
a thing or two to say to
him when he returned.
What could have made Snape leave so
suddenly? The moon would be
full tonight; surely he had wanted to
observe the transformation.
Remus imagined a sick mother or perhaps
an urgent call from a
colleague with a delicate potion gone
wrong.
But then he realised where Snape must be and why, playing
the most
dangerous part in the Order's whole dangerous game. And
there was
nothing for Remus to do but stay behind and write
reports.
So he drank his potion, recorded his vitals, and he
left, taking
the Volkova and the somameter with him. He put a charm
on the door,
to alert him when Snape returned.
Then Remus
went up to his rooms and read. He read about sleep
deprivation and
vegetarian diets and experiments in transfiguring a
werewolf into
something else prior to the change. He read about
vitamin
deficiencies and gender differences and how many sheep a
werewolf can
eat in one night. It put him off his lunch. When the
sun was low in
the sky, he began to think about supper, but he
couldn't stop turning
pages long enough to order some.
The door opened and Remus jumped
up, startled, dropping the book
onto the floor. Snape stood in the
doorway, his face white as
chalk. The alarm had not gone off -- Snape
must have come straight
here. He looked exhausted. "Come in," Remus
said. He nodded at the
good chair and poured a shot of whisky as
Snape sat.
Snape waved away the glass, but Remus put it beside
him anyhow.
"Drink it," he said and set the bottle down
too.
Instead Snape reached inside his mouth and pulled something
out.
Remus saw it in the palm of his hand for a moment: a cap that
looked like an ordinary molar. For recording? Or blocking? A chill
ran over Remus as he realized what it must be: poison, instant and
deadly. This was what the Order asked of Severus Snape.
Remus
wanted to say something, some thanks perhaps. But he knew
better than
to even try. Snape would take his head off and there
were no words
adequate anyhow. So he pulled up a chair and watched
Snape pick up
his drink. Snape's hand was steady on the glass, but
Remus could see
his tendons tighten with the effort. He drank the
whisky down,
grimacing, and let Remus pour him a second shot. Then
in a toneless
voice he gave Remus his report.
Remus scrambled for parchment and
started making notes. He'd had
these reports from Snape before, of
course, but always in writing.
He'd never seen the weary lines on
Snape's face or the dull, glassy
look in his
eyes.
Voldemort was keeping a low profile for now, but he was
planning
and they would need to keep special watch on a few people
and
places. He couldn't send this by owl; it would have to wait
until
next week's meeting. "You should eat," Remus
said.
Snape's mouth twisted, as though someone planned to make
him drink
one of his own potions, but he stayed in the
chair.
Remus ordered supper. And then there was nothing else to
fill the
silence in the room. Snape's eyes were closed, his hand
pressed to
his forehead. Remus suddenly remembered seeing Sirius like
that,
sitting alone in a darkened room, palm to his brow, as though
he
were trying to hold something inside.
They were gone, all his friends, taken by Voldemort, and Remus was
damned if Voldemort would get Snape too. Remus found his hand
clenched into a fist and stared at it for a moment. He picked the
book up from the floor and ran his fingers over the leather
binding.
Supper appeared on the table. "Severus," he said.
Snape's eyes
opened and his hand dropped into his lap. "Let's
eat."
They sat down at the table. There was wine and as they ate
and
drank, Remus felt something ease inside of him. He met Snape's
eye
and gave him half a smile. Snape set his glass down. "So you
read
the Volkova?"
"Yes," Remus said. "Polyakov's work on
alteration of the human form
before transformation is interesting,
but doesn't seem particularly
useful."
"On the contrary,"
Snape said. "I found that research most
informative. Even though none
of the experiments caused gross
changes to the wolf form, there were
small physiological changes."
"And what good is
that?"
"We'll see once you transform."
"Still," Remus
said, "he's too reckless. He doesn't seem to care
about the safety of
his subjects."
"Are you saying they did not
consent?"
"No, I'm sure he had them sign all the proper forms.
But they
couldn't have known how risky some of the experiments really
were."
"These experiments are just as dangerous for the
experimenter,"
Snape said. "As I'm sure you are
aware."
Remus waved his hand. "Let's just leave that. I thought
the chapter
on isolating the physical compounds exchanged in the
wolf's bite
was brilliant. That's where we should be looking for a
cure."
"Schlesinger disagrees. He wrote in Undertakings that
Polyakov is
drawing an unwarranted conclusion from the
data."
Remus leaned in as Snape continued, then responded with a
citation
of his own. He was tired and ill, but he hardly noticed that
now,
was barely aware that he even had a body as he and Snape shot
words
back and forth, arguing and agreeing with equal vehemence.
An
emptiness was filling up -- a need not just for contact, but
for
intellectual engagement. It had been a long, long time since
Remus
had had a discussion of any length that did not involve
Voldemort
in some shape or form.
Their plates were empty.
Remus opened another bottle of wine.
"Are you planning some
research into the effects of drunkenness in
the pre-transformative
state?" Snape asked.
Remus filled both glasses. "I've already
conducted that study. I
would have written a paper, but I was too
hungover." He could have
sworn Snape smiled at that, but it was gone
so quickly he wasn't
sure.
They were nearly through the
bottle and in the middle of Doré's
work on Muggle and wizard
werewolves, when Remus's skin began to
crawl. "It's time," he said,
cutting Snape off in the middle of a
sentence.
He went into
the bedroom. Snape followed, somameter in hand.
"Would you wait
outside?" Remus said.
"I have to see the change." Snape stood
just inside the room.
"There's no need to be so
delicate."
At least Snape wasn't Polyakov, casting random spells
on his
subjects as they transformed. Remus turned his back and took
off
his robe. He stood for a moment in his thin vest and
pants.
"Good lord," Snape said. "If you don't take them off now,
you'll
have to keep them on and shred them. It's all the same to
me."
Remus sighed and stripped away his underthings. Then he sat
on the
bed, naked and shaking. It was starting. Snape came at him
with
that damned somameter, but, Remus noted, keeping his wand ready
in
his other hand. Remus itched all over as coarse hair pushed
through
his skin. His body stretched and twisted and he thumped to
the
floor on all fours. His vision changed -- colours flattened
and
some shaded into grey. The wallpaper was a muddy yellow now
and
didn't move at all.
And there was no pain, or at least
none worth bothering about. No
agony as his limbs were pulled into a
new shape, no stabbing in his
head as he pushed the wolf-mind away.
The potion was a success. He
sat back on his haunches and lolled his
tongue out.
"Well," Snape said, "has it worked?"
Remus
nodded. It was an awkward gesture in this shape -- the long
jaw made
his head balance differently.
"Let me see." Snape knelt and put
his hand on Remus's back. He
looked into Remus's eyes, turned his
head this way and that, ran
the somameter over him one more time.
Remus hoped that after this,
he'd never have to see it again. He
snapped his jaws and barked at
Snape, just because he could, but when
Snape jumped back and raised
his wand, Remus thought perhaps he
should be more restrained.
"I need to watch you for a bit," Snape
said. He sat down on the
bed. Remus watched back. He felt bolder in
this form. If he could
disconcert Snape, that was fine with him. But
other than that first
startle, Snape betrayed no sign of nerves or
discomfort. He simply
wrote notes on a piece of parchment, leaning on
the bedside table.
At last Remus got bored of staring and trotted
to the other side of
the room to where he'd left his shoes. It was
odd, he supposed, but
he liked to smell the soles. His sense of smell
was so much more
acute. He could pick out the mud and the dust, bits
of carpet,
something harsh and strong he couldn't identify --
probably
something he had trodden on in Snape's workroom. He turned
to ask
Snape about it before he remembered he couldn't
speak.
Snape was asleep. The quill was on the floor and his wand
was
slipping from his grasp. He was half-lying, half-sitting, and
it
looked uncomfortable. Remus nudged Snape's thigh and Snape rolled
a
bit and swung his legs up onto the bed.
He was a jumble
of smells -- chemical, potion-y smells, the wine
they had been
drinking, grass, earth, that queer floor polish Filch
liked so much,
and dried sweat. It wasn't from a hot day or hard
work -- Remus could
tell the difference. It was fear, cold, clammy
fear, the kind you
feel when you know that any moment you might
have to bite down hard
and die and you can only hope that you'll be
fast
enough.
The wine was still in Remus's blood, slowing him, making
him
drowsy. The lamps were burning, but there wasn't anything he
could
do about it in this form. He jumped onto the bed and curled up
next
to Snape. If Voldemort comes, Remus thought, I'll bite him. And
he
fell asleep.
*
There were fingers in his hair.
Fingers stroking just behind his
ear where the hair was short and
bristly. It was morning, Remus was
human, and someone was stroking
his hair.
Remus kept his eyes closed and tried to breathe as
though he were
still asleep. It had to be Snape -- the idea was
fantastic, but
there was no one else. Opening his eyes meant he had
to work out
how to deal with this most unusual situation and he
really didn't
feel up to that.
Besides, it felt so
good.
It had been long, too long, since had he been touched
more
intimately than a handshake. He hadn't realised how much he
missed
it. But now he craved the warmth, the skin, the pressure of
another
human body against his own. He drew a long breath. Snape's
hand
stopped, then left entirely. Remus had given himself
away.
So before Snape could stop him and before Remus could stop
himself,
he rolled over and took Snape in his arms. He pressed them
close
together, his bare chest to Snape's clothed one, and hid his
face
in Snape's neck. Then he simply held on.
A shock
rolled through Snape's limbs and he pulled back against the
resistance of Remus's arms. He made a small, impatient sound
against Remus's ear. Remus didn't move. Then the breath sighed out
of Snape's lungs and he returned the embrace, his hands cold
against Remus's naked back.
They stayed like that for a long
time. They barely moved -- a small
shift so Remus's knee was between
Snape's, furled in the fabric of
his robe, Snape's hand sliding down
Remus's spine to the small of
his back. But mostly they were still
and let the warmth build
between them as the tension slowly leached
from their bodies,
tension Remus had not even known he was
carrying.
At last, Remus was so relaxed that his grip loosened.
They came
apart bit by bit, hands slipping away, legs stretching,
until they
were lying on their backs, still touching at hip and
shoulder. The
wallpaper was swirling again and so Remus looked up at
the ceiling
and smiled.
Snape stood and Remus couldn't get
a look at his face before Snape
straightened his robe across his
shoulders and stalked off into the
toilet.
Remus laughed
once, a low chuckle bubbling up from deep inside his
chest. Then he
rose, dressed quickly, and went to order breakfast.
He
felt...better. Like he'd taken a tonic. What the conversation
last
night had done for his mind, the closeness had done for his
body. He
was clear-headed, serene. He hoped it was the same for
Snape.
Snape made the tea. He probably thought that Remus
wasn't capable
of doing it correctly. When they each had a cup, Snape
sat down,
looked at Remus, and said, "Tell me about the
change."
"It worked, Severus. There was no pain. Itching, a lot
of itching,
but that was all." Remus sipped his tea. It was
excellent.
"Normally, it's agony -- like I'm being stretched on a
rack and
having a spike pounded into my brain all at once. But not
this
time."
Nodding, Snape made more notes. And, of course,
measured Remus's
vitals and wrote them down.
"What did you
add to the potion?" Remus asked.
"Glimwort instead of thessroot,
rampion stalks, and blood."
"Blood? Mine?"
"No," Snape
said, and put down his cup. "Mine."
Remus wasn't sure what to say
to that. He decided it, like other
things, was best ignored for now.
"I should be getting back. Work
to do. Do you need anything more from
me?"
"No," Snape said. "This will do."
Remus couldn't
help but smile at that. He started to gather his
things; there wasn't
much to pack. Snape stood, notes in hand.
Remus turned back to him.
"Thank you for the potion," he said and
held out his
hand.
Snape hesitated a moment, then shook it. His palm was cool
and dry.
"I'll bring you some next month."
"You'll be at
next week's meeting?"
"Yes."
"Until then." The Volkova
treatise was lying on the table and he
picked it up to take back to
the library.
"I'll take that," Snape said and Remus handed it
over.
"Just be sure to return it. Else that gargoyle will hunt me
to the
ends of the earth."
"Of course," Snape said, but
which part of Remus's remark he was
agreeing with, Remus wasn't
sure.
"And may I borrow the Arroyo? I think it could be
useful."
Snape nodded and so Remus packed it away. There was
nothing more to
do, so he took his valise, and left. He was just at
the castle
gates when a bell rang in his ears. His alarm on Snape's
workroom.
Remus remembered the fire he'd lit under the mysterious
orange
potion and walked faster.
*
That night an
owl arrived at Grimmauld Place.
Collaborate on paper re potion
improvements. Outline to follow
tomorrow. Will expect your notes
within the week.
SS
PS. The Draught of
Silence wascompletely ruined.
Remus smiled,
drank his tea, and thought about the paper.
F I N I
S
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