Fic: Apologia, Snape/Lupin PG-13
Title: Apologia
Characters: Snape/Lupin
Rating: PG-13 or R for some references to slash
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: Angst
Summary: Snape's memories under legilimens.
A/N: Haven't written in ages. Hope I still can. Thanks to my betas schemingreader!
The trick to Legilimency is asking the right questions. You must concentrate when you cast the spell on the answers you need. People want to tell you things. They want to share -- spread out their life as if that act alone could explain everything. All you have to do is seep inside their head, ask the right questions, and the answers will squirm to the surface like worms after a rainstorm.
Snape groaned, with a dry, cracked whisper he mumbled, "occlumens" but the spell dissolved in the dank air around him. He felt the memories being yanked from his head. Exposed, they quivered, silver threads in the shadowed atmosphere.
* * *
A dull pain spread from Severus Snape's heel to his calf. He hadn't calculated on levicorpus being this uncomfortable -- a beneficial side-effect to be sure, if you're not on the receiving end of the curse. James Potter's smug grin only made the whole thing that much more unbearable. Snape inwardly cursed his own slowness. He was a talented enough dueller but Potter had the advantage of an intuitive quickness. Empty-headed, Snape suspected. Potter's thoughts never got in the way of his curses. Snape had too many plots and plans; they cluttered his mind and tripped up his spells.
"Was Lupin just sitting there?" thought Snape. This sudden realization stirred up a panic in his chest and sent a flush to his neck. "Was Lupin just sitting there, like he didn't notice?" Snape, the blood ringing in his ears, craned his neck to see, but he turned his head back quickly at the first glimpse of Remus Lupin, who sat, looking sheepish, in the dappled shade of a lake-side tree. Snape closed his eyes. He didn't dare look at Lupin for long because of the thing that sometimes happened when he did. "Mustn't look, mustn't think..." If it happened then -- in that position... It was too horrible to consider. "I'll kill James Potter and Black, too." He resolved darkly. "With my own spell. He got me with my own spell," groaned Snape, as a crowd of gawkers circled around him. Their mocking faces were twisted carnival masks. And God, Lupin was right there.
* * *
"Sorry, sorry," said Remus. Snape thought how useless that word must be since it slipped so easily off Lupin's tongue. "Sirius and James, they don't mean any harm," said Lupin. "They're just having fun, you know how it is."
The two boys sat side by side at a long wooden table in the library; stacks of books formed a secret forest around them. Lupin tilted his head and kissed Snape softly, the tip of his tongue just lightly touching Snape's. "That's more than words, anyway," thought Snape. His throat felt tight, his stomach twisted as if he'd swallowed ocean water.
* * *
"Potter dead and then Black," Snape brooded through his history lesson, his left eye growing swollen and purple. James had jinxed him again, right before class. Potter cast the spells but Snape knew Black pulled the strings. He'd kill Potter quickly but Black he'd kill slowly. He rubbed the lump that had formed on the back of his head; Potter's spell had flung him against a stone wall. Black had laughed and said, "Good one, Prongs." Then he'd touched Lupin's arm -- Lupin had been right there -- Black touched his arm and said, "Come on, Moony," while Snape watched from the dusty floor, coughing up smoke and spiders, the back of his head throbbing.
Snape planned Black's death while Professor Binns droned on about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Cruciatus, of course, but how long could he do it before Black found some relief either in madness or death? He'd have to keep Black conscious. There'd be potions for that. And while Black suffered, Snape could explain everything to him -- exactly. It would all be so lovely. Afterward, Lupin would say, "You were right, Severus, Sirius deserved to die," then, "Sorry, sorry" and kiss him.
"It's all right," Snape would reply. He'd touch Lupin's arm.
* * *
On the night that Snape followed Lupin farther than ever before, outside the school and across the grounds, Black had told him how. Had dared him, actually, to follow Lupin. He should have known. They were both leaving one of Slughorn's parties and Black had said, "Why don't you follow Remus tonight, Snivellus, he wants you to. He knows you're always prowling around after him." His voice had sounded resentful, but still Snape should have known. He had suspected something, he held his wand at the ready but his caution soon succumbed to curiosity as he skulked the shadowy corridors. He'd followed Lupin before; he couldn't help it. He'd followed him but always lost him in the end. Snape would turn a corner and Lupin would be gone, empty walls and dozing paintings giving no sign he'd ever been there. Snape could swear, then, that he heard breathing all around him, or stifled giggles.
But this night he hadn't lost Lupin once. Hidden doorways opened for him when he passed them. Paintings swung forwards, walls slid away, stairways collapsed to reveal deep underground channels, everywhere the soft echo of footsteps. He knew there were secret passage throughout the school, but he'd no idea there were so many. The cool night air caught him by surprise when he suddenly found himself outside the school. He'd been treading carefully down a pitch black tunnel with no idea where he'd emerge. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the silvery light of the night-time air. The full moon overhead cast a cold imitation of sunlight to the ground, illuminating a path of glowing stepping stones. He crept along it, his heart in his throat. He stooped under the unnaturally stilled branches of the Whomping Willow and a twist of pleasure shot through him when he discovered himself inside the Shrieking Shack. Snape climbed the listing stairs which swayed and protested beneath his feet. When he got to the doorway of the bedroom he blushed at the sight of the bed. The great swaths of cobwebs seemed like the gauzy edges of a dream. The moonlight that angled in through the slats in the walls turned everything silver and blue. Then he heard a low ominous growl. He saw the werewolf and it all made sense -- the wages of sin are death.
The werewolf seethed. Long strings of saliva dripped from its jaws as it as it raged against its frustrating prison. It turned; surprised to see another figure in the darkness. It stood silent for a moment then screamed and plunged toward Snape. Snape recognized the eyes and everything clicked. Humiliation started its red creep up his neck, spread over his face. He stood trembling, queasy from fear and he waited. He pressed a hand against the door frame to steady himself and waited -- didn't even lift his wand. The werewolf threw a claw across Snape's chest, scratched him once -- a tentative cut, as if the beast were testing whether Snape were real. Snape stood frozen and waited for the next killing blow; he wondered why it took so long. It felt as if all time had dissolved into that moment and he would never move past that place in time. And then, suddenly, he was yanked roughly backwards -- rescued because death at that point would have been too much of a mercy.
Later, in the infirmary, Snape thought, "How stupid I must be if Black figured it out before me. It was so fucking obvious." The mystery of Remus Lupin was suddenly transparent and clear -- the absences, the pale returns, all the prowling around, the whispers and the secrets. How stupid he'd been, and, God, he'd blushed at the sight of the bed.
Snape pulled the covers over his head when he saw Black come in, beet red in the face, followed by Dumbledore looking grave and Potter looking pale.
"Sorry, Snape. All right," said Black. "You hear me, there under the covers? I said I was sorry." Black leaned in close so that Snape could feel Black's wet breath warm against his ear through the thin cotton blanket. "Sorry you're such a fucking idiot, Snivellus."
Black stood back up. "What. No! Professor... Well what am I supposed to say to him, he won't come out from under the blankets?" He mumbled under his breath, "Fucking drama queen". Then more loudly, "Nothing Professor, I didn't say nothing."
Snape stayed like that -- head covered -- as much as possible for the next couple of days while he healed and matron kept him in the infirmary for observation, watching nervously for any signs of the change. He sat up to eat with the sheets tented over his head. Sat and sipped his soup, glaring at the grey shapes through the white sheets. He watched the light change though the filmy cotton, grey and yellow, brown, black. He would have stayed like that forever if Madam Pomfrey hadn't whipped the sheets off him one morning.
"There, poppet, you're all well. Run along. No broom riding for two weeks and for goodness sake, try to take a bath."
* * *
He thought of blood blossoming up from slashes in Black's skin. Slippery, red rivulets. The type a werewolf would leave. Torn to shreds. He jotted it down in the margins of his book during potions class, for enemies.
* * *
And the scar still itches, right above his heart, naturally. Shiny, tight skin, an angry mark to remind him, everything you want is wrong. Years later and he was still lurking the corridors at night, scratching his old wound. Lupin was back at Hogwarts. The first night he arrived, Snape thought he looked tired and frayed but even after thirteen years the same sensation shook through him, the familiar desire quaking in his belly like fear. Snape fell helplessly into the old habit of following Lupin around.
"Severus," Lupin swung around to face him. The sound of his voice felt to Snape like the thrill of a cold blade against the skin.
"Lupin. Just out for a stroll in the moonlight?" said Snape brusquely.
"Oh Severus, all these years and you're still following me around." Lupin said, a sweet mocking in his voice.
"I'm not," said Snape defiantly. "I'm following you to find Black."
"If I knew where he was I'd kill him myself," said Lupin quietly. "James was my friend. And Lily..."
"He couldn't have escaped Azkaban alone." Snape said moving closer to Lupin.
Lupin sighed. "You underestimate his resourcefulness."
"You underestimate his hold on you." Snape said suddenly, a little too loudly.
Lupin ignored it, "Why were you always following me around, anyway?" he said, changing the topic.
"You know why," said Snape.
"Yes I- I suppose I do." Lupin sounded wistful. "I didn't know then. I wish I had."
"Why? Do you think it would have made a difference?" Snape sounded angrier than he meant to sound. He couldn't seem to control his words.
"It might have," said Lupin. "I would have-"
And God he'd blushed at the sight of the bed.
"It was never up to you --" Snape interrupted. "What you wanted. Only Black and Potter."
Lupin looked exasperated. "What do you want, Severus?"
"I don't want anything --"
"Really, are you sure?" Lupin suddenly smiled. Lupin's smiles always frightened Snape more than Lupin's anger. "I might want something, I'm feeling a bit -- nostalgic."
"Black." The name tasted like poison on Snape's tongue.
"You." Lupin smirked. "Stop being horrible, and come on."
"Where?"
"I have a nice little set of rooms," he said, walking away from Snape. "I imagine it's warmer and less smelly than the dungeons."
"The dungeons aren't smelly," Snape said, moving almost involuntarily.
"Follow me carefully, the way can be tricky."
"I'm perfectly aware of the way to the Defence against the Dark Arts Master's rooms," said Snape, shoving past Lupin.
"Oh really, why is that?" Lupin laughed.
"Just shut up and come on."
For both of them, wandering the corridors of Hogwarts at night was like breathing air.
Afterwards, as Snape lay there, Lupin, next to him, asleep, stretched out on his stomach, Snape traced the path of Lupin's scars with his finger. He wanted to tell him that the scars never stopped itching but Lupin must have known that. Lupin was all knobbly knees with shoulder blades severe as axe heads. But his skin was gilded in the firelight, to Snape he looked like a prize-- a golden trophy.
Then Snape remembered how he had waited to die. He could never shake the memory of his greatest desire, shifting like bones beneath the skin of his greatest fear. One gash across his chest, and then nothing. And he'd blushed because he thought... Of course, how could anything be good if he wanted it? That thought had killed him ten years back; the werewolf would have only been cleanup.
Snape ran his hand under the edge of the mattress. He rolled off the bed to look behind the books in the bookshelf.
Lupin woke, tousle-headed. "What are you looking for?" he yawned, staring at Snape, naked, rifling through his things.
"This." Snape pulled a creased scrap of paper from the spine of an old book.
"Give it back," said Lupin, his voice cold.
"Nice likeness, better than what's posted everywhere in the wanted posters," said Snape scowling at the photo. A sixteen-year old Sirius Black sneered back, mouthing the word, "'Snivellus."
"Please, put it back," said Lupin with a slight pleading sadness that perversely thrilled Snape.
"I thought you hated him, I thought James was your friend, and Lily." Snape's voice was mocking and cruel. "You know where he is."
"I don't. If I did, I'd kill him myself."
"He won't give you what you want. He couldn't then and can't now."
"I'll kill him myself."
* * *
"I'm not angry," said Lupin cheerfully when Snape walked into his rooms.
Snape looked around. Lupin's bags were packed, his books piled up inside a large leather chest. "I don't care if you're angry," he said petulantly.
"I'm not even surprised."
"I- " Snape was interrupted by a loud screaming voice.
You should just kill yourself! You're a monster and an abomination of nature- Pszz.
Lupin was tossing howlers into the air and zapping them with his wand.
"I'm getting really good at this. You want to try?" He flung one at Snape.
What is the world coming to? When they let your kind near children-
Snape pulled out his wand and smacked it hard. It fell to the table panting and gasping.
"Oh dear, Severus," laughed Lupin, "You've only winded it. When it gets its breath back there'll be hell to pay."
"Incendio," snapped Snape. The garish red letter burnt and snapped out of existence.
* * *
The stairs at number twelve Grimmauld Place creaked and cracked as he ascended them. He found Lupin in a small bedroom, flinging a robe on over his muggle clothes.
"Are you staying here?" said Snape.
Lupin jumped at the sound of his voice, "You startled me."
"Is this your room or Black's?"
"Severus, the meeting's downstairs." Lupin said patiently.
"I know." Snape noticed a photo of Black. The same old school photo he'd found hidden in Lupin's room at Hogwarts. It was framed and displayed proudly now on a small bedside table.
"You don't hide that anymore?" he said pointing.
"No," said Lupin.
Snape took two sudden steps forward and tried awkwardly to kiss Lupin who pushed him away. "No."
"Very well," Snape stood up straight; he wanted to move but felt stuck.
"Severus." said Lupin his voice full of pity.
"I don't care." Snape replied crossly.
"Severus, sorry."
A few months later and he's in the same room.
"What do you want, Severus?"
Snape had tried Legilimency. Reaching silently out, just brushing the surface of Lupin's mind but he'd been detected. He could never do it successfully with Lupin; he got too excited when he felt the wisps of Lupin's thoughts curl around his own.
"The Dark Lord. I have to go to him. I just wanted- Before I left, I-" Snape had no idea what he wanted.
"He's dead."
"Black? Yes, I know. You lived with him-" Snape felt suddenly ashamed.
"He's dead, why are you acting like a jealous child? Just leave me alone."
"I'm sorry," it might have been the first time Snape had ever said it. He couldn't quite figure out what he was sorry for. He wasn't sorry Sirius was dead, not really. He was just sorry.
"Just leave me alone," Lupin sounded miserable.
"But I am. I'm sorry you- I'm just sorry -- you." His words wouldn't come out right; he reached out to touch Lupin's face. Lupin shook his head violently.
"Don't touch me!"
"Please."
"Don't touch me", Lupin shouted again. He backed up suddenly, lost his balance and toppled into the bedside table. The table teetered precariously and everything on it tumbled to the floor. There was a loud crashing sound and a tinkle of broken glass. Snape didn't even have to look to know what had broken.
"Oh God," cried Lupin.
Snape stared at him a moment and then turned and swept out of the room.
* * *
Draco Malfoy, pale and trembling, sat on the floor, his back against the wall. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've made a mess of things. It's all my fault..."
"Quiet," said Snape. They were at Spinner's End. They were safe there for the time being. Snape stood stooped over Draco, brooding. He hated Dumbledore with his entire pickled soul. Dumbledore made him do this thing for this worthless boy. "I would have died for you," he thought. Hate, hate, hate. A stunted thing inside him twitched and snarled, You can never be good.
He handed Draco a hot liquid-filled cup, "Drink."
"What is it?" Draco sniffed it suspiciously.
"It'll make you sleep."
"Forever?" Draco tried to sound brave but his hands shook, sending liquid sloshing over the sides of the cup.
"No, just four hours, that's all we have time for. We'll have to move again after that."
He imagined Lupin had heard the news by now. He imagined the look on his face.
* * *
The shack was cold. The wind whistling through the cracks in the wall sounded like the cries of tortured ghosts. The walls were splintery brown decorated with huge blooms of blue black mildew. Snape's insides were water. He felt the familiar nauseous fear he'd felt the first time he's seen this room. The same quaking dread had also caught him the second time he'd followed Lupin to this place. Then it had turned to hate when he found Lupin hugging Black and those wretched Gryffindor children strewn about like pale staring statues.
This time he came alone. He followed nobody. The moon was full and he didn't know what he expected to find. The night was uneventful and the day came with a dirty orange glow.
Snape stayed in the shack. He sat on the bed and covered his head with its dusty sheets. He stayed like that the entire day watching the colours of the light shift. He stayed very still in some kind of strange overwhelming trance until someone tore the sheets away, and he found himself face to face with Remus Lupin.
Lupin pointed his wand straight at Snape's heart. Snape was caught completely unawares. All he could do was blink in surprise at the fierce look that seemed so foreign on Lupin's face. Lupin didn't say it, but Snape knew what curse he threw even before the pain hit him. Crucio. His last coherent thought, as he tumbled off the bed rigid with pain, was that Lupin could be a cold bastard when he wanted to be.
* * *
The thing about Legilimency is that it's painful. People don't always realize that. It hurts to have someone pull at your thoughts like candyfloss. Everything gets tangled up, twisted and sticky.
Snape groaned, with a dry and cracked voice he whispered, "occlumens". Lupin brushed the counter spell aside like a cobweb. Crucio had been an impulse. He'd done it without thinking. Still, it'd proved a good tactic, although an unforgivable one, some part of his mind reminded him. He'd have never been able to get this far with legilimens if Snape hadn't been so weak from the pain. Despite that, Snape still managed to hide a lot. Lupin wanted to know about Voldemort, Dumbledore or Malfoy and all he got were these unimportant recollections.
"What promise did you make Dumbledore?" he asked. "Why do you hate him?"
He heard a faint sound of wood scraping wood. He turned towards the noise and saw Snape's wand inching like a worm across the floor. It happened in an instant, before he could even form a curse in his mind -- just the tips of Snape's fingers touched holly wood and he was gone. Apparated -- cracking the air in half with sound and magic. Even after his body was gone, Lupin still felt Snape's thoughts being tugged away from his own. It hurt so much that he cried aloud. Afterwards, there was one lingering word.
Sorry.
Characters: Snape/Lupin
Rating: PG-13 or R for some references to slash
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: Angst
Summary: Snape's memories under legilimens.
A/N: Haven't written in ages. Hope I still can. Thanks to my betas schemingreader!
The trick to Legilimency is asking the right questions. You must concentrate when you cast the spell on the answers you need. People want to tell you things. They want to share -- spread out their life as if that act alone could explain everything. All you have to do is seep inside their head, ask the right questions, and the answers will squirm to the surface like worms after a rainstorm.
Snape groaned, with a dry, cracked whisper he mumbled, "occlumens" but the spell dissolved in the dank air around him. He felt the memories being yanked from his head. Exposed, they quivered, silver threads in the shadowed atmosphere.
* * *
A dull pain spread from Severus Snape's heel to his calf. He hadn't calculated on levicorpus being this uncomfortable -- a beneficial side-effect to be sure, if you're not on the receiving end of the curse. James Potter's smug grin only made the whole thing that much more unbearable. Snape inwardly cursed his own slowness. He was a talented enough dueller but Potter had the advantage of an intuitive quickness. Empty-headed, Snape suspected. Potter's thoughts never got in the way of his curses. Snape had too many plots and plans; they cluttered his mind and tripped up his spells.
"Was Lupin just sitting there?" thought Snape. This sudden realization stirred up a panic in his chest and sent a flush to his neck. "Was Lupin just sitting there, like he didn't notice?" Snape, the blood ringing in his ears, craned his neck to see, but he turned his head back quickly at the first glimpse of Remus Lupin, who sat, looking sheepish, in the dappled shade of a lake-side tree. Snape closed his eyes. He didn't dare look at Lupin for long because of the thing that sometimes happened when he did. "Mustn't look, mustn't think..." If it happened then -- in that position... It was too horrible to consider. "I'll kill James Potter and Black, too." He resolved darkly. "With my own spell. He got me with my own spell," groaned Snape, as a crowd of gawkers circled around him. Their mocking faces were twisted carnival masks. And God, Lupin was right there.
* * *
"Sorry, sorry," said Remus. Snape thought how useless that word must be since it slipped so easily off Lupin's tongue. "Sirius and James, they don't mean any harm," said Lupin. "They're just having fun, you know how it is."
The two boys sat side by side at a long wooden table in the library; stacks of books formed a secret forest around them. Lupin tilted his head and kissed Snape softly, the tip of his tongue just lightly touching Snape's. "That's more than words, anyway," thought Snape. His throat felt tight, his stomach twisted as if he'd swallowed ocean water.
* * *
"Potter dead and then Black," Snape brooded through his history lesson, his left eye growing swollen and purple. James had jinxed him again, right before class. Potter cast the spells but Snape knew Black pulled the strings. He'd kill Potter quickly but Black he'd kill slowly. He rubbed the lump that had formed on the back of his head; Potter's spell had flung him against a stone wall. Black had laughed and said, "Good one, Prongs." Then he'd touched Lupin's arm -- Lupin had been right there -- Black touched his arm and said, "Come on, Moony," while Snape watched from the dusty floor, coughing up smoke and spiders, the back of his head throbbing.
Snape planned Black's death while Professor Binns droned on about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Cruciatus, of course, but how long could he do it before Black found some relief either in madness or death? He'd have to keep Black conscious. There'd be potions for that. And while Black suffered, Snape could explain everything to him -- exactly. It would all be so lovely. Afterward, Lupin would say, "You were right, Severus, Sirius deserved to die," then, "Sorry, sorry" and kiss him.
"It's all right," Snape would reply. He'd touch Lupin's arm.
* * *
On the night that Snape followed Lupin farther than ever before, outside the school and across the grounds, Black had told him how. Had dared him, actually, to follow Lupin. He should have known. They were both leaving one of Slughorn's parties and Black had said, "Why don't you follow Remus tonight, Snivellus, he wants you to. He knows you're always prowling around after him." His voice had sounded resentful, but still Snape should have known. He had suspected something, he held his wand at the ready but his caution soon succumbed to curiosity as he skulked the shadowy corridors. He'd followed Lupin before; he couldn't help it. He'd followed him but always lost him in the end. Snape would turn a corner and Lupin would be gone, empty walls and dozing paintings giving no sign he'd ever been there. Snape could swear, then, that he heard breathing all around him, or stifled giggles.
But this night he hadn't lost Lupin once. Hidden doorways opened for him when he passed them. Paintings swung forwards, walls slid away, stairways collapsed to reveal deep underground channels, everywhere the soft echo of footsteps. He knew there were secret passage throughout the school, but he'd no idea there were so many. The cool night air caught him by surprise when he suddenly found himself outside the school. He'd been treading carefully down a pitch black tunnel with no idea where he'd emerge. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the silvery light of the night-time air. The full moon overhead cast a cold imitation of sunlight to the ground, illuminating a path of glowing stepping stones. He crept along it, his heart in his throat. He stooped under the unnaturally stilled branches of the Whomping Willow and a twist of pleasure shot through him when he discovered himself inside the Shrieking Shack. Snape climbed the listing stairs which swayed and protested beneath his feet. When he got to the doorway of the bedroom he blushed at the sight of the bed. The great swaths of cobwebs seemed like the gauzy edges of a dream. The moonlight that angled in through the slats in the walls turned everything silver and blue. Then he heard a low ominous growl. He saw the werewolf and it all made sense -- the wages of sin are death.
The werewolf seethed. Long strings of saliva dripped from its jaws as it as it raged against its frustrating prison. It turned; surprised to see another figure in the darkness. It stood silent for a moment then screamed and plunged toward Snape. Snape recognized the eyes and everything clicked. Humiliation started its red creep up his neck, spread over his face. He stood trembling, queasy from fear and he waited. He pressed a hand against the door frame to steady himself and waited -- didn't even lift his wand. The werewolf threw a claw across Snape's chest, scratched him once -- a tentative cut, as if the beast were testing whether Snape were real. Snape stood frozen and waited for the next killing blow; he wondered why it took so long. It felt as if all time had dissolved into that moment and he would never move past that place in time. And then, suddenly, he was yanked roughly backwards -- rescued because death at that point would have been too much of a mercy.
Later, in the infirmary, Snape thought, "How stupid I must be if Black figured it out before me. It was so fucking obvious." The mystery of Remus Lupin was suddenly transparent and clear -- the absences, the pale returns, all the prowling around, the whispers and the secrets. How stupid he'd been, and, God, he'd blushed at the sight of the bed.
Snape pulled the covers over his head when he saw Black come in, beet red in the face, followed by Dumbledore looking grave and Potter looking pale.
"Sorry, Snape. All right," said Black. "You hear me, there under the covers? I said I was sorry." Black leaned in close so that Snape could feel Black's wet breath warm against his ear through the thin cotton blanket. "Sorry you're such a fucking idiot, Snivellus."
Black stood back up. "What. No! Professor... Well what am I supposed to say to him, he won't come out from under the blankets?" He mumbled under his breath, "Fucking drama queen". Then more loudly, "Nothing Professor, I didn't say nothing."
Snape stayed like that -- head covered -- as much as possible for the next couple of days while he healed and matron kept him in the infirmary for observation, watching nervously for any signs of the change. He sat up to eat with the sheets tented over his head. Sat and sipped his soup, glaring at the grey shapes through the white sheets. He watched the light change though the filmy cotton, grey and yellow, brown, black. He would have stayed like that forever if Madam Pomfrey hadn't whipped the sheets off him one morning.
"There, poppet, you're all well. Run along. No broom riding for two weeks and for goodness sake, try to take a bath."
* * *
He thought of blood blossoming up from slashes in Black's skin. Slippery, red rivulets. The type a werewolf would leave. Torn to shreds. He jotted it down in the margins of his book during potions class, for enemies.
* * *
And the scar still itches, right above his heart, naturally. Shiny, tight skin, an angry mark to remind him, everything you want is wrong. Years later and he was still lurking the corridors at night, scratching his old wound. Lupin was back at Hogwarts. The first night he arrived, Snape thought he looked tired and frayed but even after thirteen years the same sensation shook through him, the familiar desire quaking in his belly like fear. Snape fell helplessly into the old habit of following Lupin around.
"Severus," Lupin swung around to face him. The sound of his voice felt to Snape like the thrill of a cold blade against the skin.
"Lupin. Just out for a stroll in the moonlight?" said Snape brusquely.
"Oh Severus, all these years and you're still following me around." Lupin said, a sweet mocking in his voice.
"I'm not," said Snape defiantly. "I'm following you to find Black."
"If I knew where he was I'd kill him myself," said Lupin quietly. "James was my friend. And Lily..."
"He couldn't have escaped Azkaban alone." Snape said moving closer to Lupin.
Lupin sighed. "You underestimate his resourcefulness."
"You underestimate his hold on you." Snape said suddenly, a little too loudly.
Lupin ignored it, "Why were you always following me around, anyway?" he said, changing the topic.
"You know why," said Snape.
"Yes I- I suppose I do." Lupin sounded wistful. "I didn't know then. I wish I had."
"Why? Do you think it would have made a difference?" Snape sounded angrier than he meant to sound. He couldn't seem to control his words.
"It might have," said Lupin. "I would have-"
And God he'd blushed at the sight of the bed.
"It was never up to you --" Snape interrupted. "What you wanted. Only Black and Potter."
Lupin looked exasperated. "What do you want, Severus?"
"I don't want anything --"
"Really, are you sure?" Lupin suddenly smiled. Lupin's smiles always frightened Snape more than Lupin's anger. "I might want something, I'm feeling a bit -- nostalgic."
"Black." The name tasted like poison on Snape's tongue.
"You." Lupin smirked. "Stop being horrible, and come on."
"Where?"
"I have a nice little set of rooms," he said, walking away from Snape. "I imagine it's warmer and less smelly than the dungeons."
"The dungeons aren't smelly," Snape said, moving almost involuntarily.
"Follow me carefully, the way can be tricky."
"I'm perfectly aware of the way to the Defence against the Dark Arts Master's rooms," said Snape, shoving past Lupin.
"Oh really, why is that?" Lupin laughed.
"Just shut up and come on."
For both of them, wandering the corridors of Hogwarts at night was like breathing air.
Afterwards, as Snape lay there, Lupin, next to him, asleep, stretched out on his stomach, Snape traced the path of Lupin's scars with his finger. He wanted to tell him that the scars never stopped itching but Lupin must have known that. Lupin was all knobbly knees with shoulder blades severe as axe heads. But his skin was gilded in the firelight, to Snape he looked like a prize-- a golden trophy.
Then Snape remembered how he had waited to die. He could never shake the memory of his greatest desire, shifting like bones beneath the skin of his greatest fear. One gash across his chest, and then nothing. And he'd blushed because he thought... Of course, how could anything be good if he wanted it? That thought had killed him ten years back; the werewolf would have only been cleanup.
Snape ran his hand under the edge of the mattress. He rolled off the bed to look behind the books in the bookshelf.
Lupin woke, tousle-headed. "What are you looking for?" he yawned, staring at Snape, naked, rifling through his things.
"This." Snape pulled a creased scrap of paper from the spine of an old book.
"Give it back," said Lupin, his voice cold.
"Nice likeness, better than what's posted everywhere in the wanted posters," said Snape scowling at the photo. A sixteen-year old Sirius Black sneered back, mouthing the word, "'Snivellus."
"Please, put it back," said Lupin with a slight pleading sadness that perversely thrilled Snape.
"I thought you hated him, I thought James was your friend, and Lily." Snape's voice was mocking and cruel. "You know where he is."
"I don't. If I did, I'd kill him myself."
"He won't give you what you want. He couldn't then and can't now."
"I'll kill him myself."
* * *
"I'm not angry," said Lupin cheerfully when Snape walked into his rooms.
Snape looked around. Lupin's bags were packed, his books piled up inside a large leather chest. "I don't care if you're angry," he said petulantly.
"I'm not even surprised."
"I- " Snape was interrupted by a loud screaming voice.
You should just kill yourself! You're a monster and an abomination of nature- Pszz.
Lupin was tossing howlers into the air and zapping them with his wand.
"I'm getting really good at this. You want to try?" He flung one at Snape.
What is the world coming to? When they let your kind near children-
Snape pulled out his wand and smacked it hard. It fell to the table panting and gasping.
"Oh dear, Severus," laughed Lupin, "You've only winded it. When it gets its breath back there'll be hell to pay."
"Incendio," snapped Snape. The garish red letter burnt and snapped out of existence.
* * *
The stairs at number twelve Grimmauld Place creaked and cracked as he ascended them. He found Lupin in a small bedroom, flinging a robe on over his muggle clothes.
"Are you staying here?" said Snape.
Lupin jumped at the sound of his voice, "You startled me."
"Is this your room or Black's?"
"Severus, the meeting's downstairs." Lupin said patiently.
"I know." Snape noticed a photo of Black. The same old school photo he'd found hidden in Lupin's room at Hogwarts. It was framed and displayed proudly now on a small bedside table.
"You don't hide that anymore?" he said pointing.
"No," said Lupin.
Snape took two sudden steps forward and tried awkwardly to kiss Lupin who pushed him away. "No."
"Very well," Snape stood up straight; he wanted to move but felt stuck.
"Severus." said Lupin his voice full of pity.
"I don't care." Snape replied crossly.
"Severus, sorry."
A few months later and he's in the same room.
"What do you want, Severus?"
Snape had tried Legilimency. Reaching silently out, just brushing the surface of Lupin's mind but he'd been detected. He could never do it successfully with Lupin; he got too excited when he felt the wisps of Lupin's thoughts curl around his own.
"The Dark Lord. I have to go to him. I just wanted- Before I left, I-" Snape had no idea what he wanted.
"He's dead."
"Black? Yes, I know. You lived with him-" Snape felt suddenly ashamed.
"He's dead, why are you acting like a jealous child? Just leave me alone."
"I'm sorry," it might have been the first time Snape had ever said it. He couldn't quite figure out what he was sorry for. He wasn't sorry Sirius was dead, not really. He was just sorry.
"Just leave me alone," Lupin sounded miserable.
"But I am. I'm sorry you- I'm just sorry -- you." His words wouldn't come out right; he reached out to touch Lupin's face. Lupin shook his head violently.
"Don't touch me!"
"Please."
"Don't touch me", Lupin shouted again. He backed up suddenly, lost his balance and toppled into the bedside table. The table teetered precariously and everything on it tumbled to the floor. There was a loud crashing sound and a tinkle of broken glass. Snape didn't even have to look to know what had broken.
"Oh God," cried Lupin.
Snape stared at him a moment and then turned and swept out of the room.
* * *
Draco Malfoy, pale and trembling, sat on the floor, his back against the wall. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've made a mess of things. It's all my fault..."
"Quiet," said Snape. They were at Spinner's End. They were safe there for the time being. Snape stood stooped over Draco, brooding. He hated Dumbledore with his entire pickled soul. Dumbledore made him do this thing for this worthless boy. "I would have died for you," he thought. Hate, hate, hate. A stunted thing inside him twitched and snarled, You can never be good.
He handed Draco a hot liquid-filled cup, "Drink."
"What is it?" Draco sniffed it suspiciously.
"It'll make you sleep."
"Forever?" Draco tried to sound brave but his hands shook, sending liquid sloshing over the sides of the cup.
"No, just four hours, that's all we have time for. We'll have to move again after that."
He imagined Lupin had heard the news by now. He imagined the look on his face.
* * *
The shack was cold. The wind whistling through the cracks in the wall sounded like the cries of tortured ghosts. The walls were splintery brown decorated with huge blooms of blue black mildew. Snape's insides were water. He felt the familiar nauseous fear he'd felt the first time he's seen this room. The same quaking dread had also caught him the second time he'd followed Lupin to this place. Then it had turned to hate when he found Lupin hugging Black and those wretched Gryffindor children strewn about like pale staring statues.
This time he came alone. He followed nobody. The moon was full and he didn't know what he expected to find. The night was uneventful and the day came with a dirty orange glow.
Snape stayed in the shack. He sat on the bed and covered his head with its dusty sheets. He stayed like that the entire day watching the colours of the light shift. He stayed very still in some kind of strange overwhelming trance until someone tore the sheets away, and he found himself face to face with Remus Lupin.
Lupin pointed his wand straight at Snape's heart. Snape was caught completely unawares. All he could do was blink in surprise at the fierce look that seemed so foreign on Lupin's face. Lupin didn't say it, but Snape knew what curse he threw even before the pain hit him. Crucio. His last coherent thought, as he tumbled off the bed rigid with pain, was that Lupin could be a cold bastard when he wanted to be.
* * *
The thing about Legilimency is that it's painful. People don't always realize that. It hurts to have someone pull at your thoughts like candyfloss. Everything gets tangled up, twisted and sticky.
Snape groaned, with a dry and cracked voice he whispered, "occlumens". Lupin brushed the counter spell aside like a cobweb. Crucio had been an impulse. He'd done it without thinking. Still, it'd proved a good tactic, although an unforgivable one, some part of his mind reminded him. He'd have never been able to get this far with legilimens if Snape hadn't been so weak from the pain. Despite that, Snape still managed to hide a lot. Lupin wanted to know about Voldemort, Dumbledore or Malfoy and all he got were these unimportant recollections.
"What promise did you make Dumbledore?" he asked. "Why do you hate him?"
He heard a faint sound of wood scraping wood. He turned towards the noise and saw Snape's wand inching like a worm across the floor. It happened in an instant, before he could even form a curse in his mind -- just the tips of Snape's fingers touched holly wood and he was gone. Apparated -- cracking the air in half with sound and magic. Even after his body was gone, Lupin still felt Snape's thoughts being tugged away from his own. It hurt so much that he cried aloud. Afterwards, there was one lingering word.
Sorry.