Grey in the Dark - II

[werewolf_lib]

Grey in the Dark
II

It was here somewhere, Severus was sure of it, a small box of inlaid oak filled with the only thing that could possibly calm his nerves now. Well, make that the only thing that could calm him which he could use regularly and still hope to remain employed. Fumbling around in the recesses of his cabinets, his hand finally closed on the desired item and he pulled it out with a sigh of relief, emptying its contents in a messy spill across his preternaturally tidy desk. His shaking hands still retained the memory of their once-routine actions and before he realised it, the cigarette was lit and at his lips, its sharp smoke sliding into his mouth, burning just a little when it reached his lungs but not unpleasantly so. The motion of smoking calmed him, the tannic, faintly earthy taste of the slightly stale tobacco soothing and familiar despite this being his first cigarette in at least six months.

He sucked impatiently on the cigarette as he paced his office, furious. Damn Lupin, damn that wretched half-breed for daring to show his face again and damn Dumbledore for letting him come here! It’s bad enough that he’s let a werewolf come to teach, but to demand I be complicit in his little humanitarian effort is really going too far. Should the potion go awry and he eat someone, I’ll probably be forced to take the blame as well! I’d do everyone a favour and just poison him if it wouldn’t be so bloody obvious, but between juggling him and Potter this year, I’d probably be better off poisoning myself. A sudden heat on his fingertips brought him out of his brooding; he tossed the ember of his cigarette into the air where it evaporated, and without really considering it he began to roll another.

Two more cigarettes and a great deal of pacing later, he had begun to feel more at his ease and found himself thinking almost sympathetically about Lupin. Despite his own discomfort, he had to admit that Dumbledore had indeed done a kind thing by employing the man. Judging by the state of him when he’d arrived at the castle earlier in the month he couldn’t have been having an easy time of things; he’d been much thinner than he’d appeared in Prague and looked entirely too worn and haggard for a man of his age, not to mention he was seemingly incredibly poor.

Funny to think he used to be married to one of the wealthiest men in Britain. I wonder what happened to the famous Black family fortune? The Ministry didn’t take it, or at least it didn’t make the news if they did, and he certainly doesn’t seem to have been using it. Probably refuses to touch it out of some ridiculous moral duty or something else equally foolish. He has to have found some way to live since he came back to Britain; maybe he gets some of the royalties from that book. Severus made a mental note to go through his own copy at some point to find out if Lupin really was included or if he’d just been taking the piss. Dr Zyleczhski had listed a Professor R. Lupin as a reference for some of his quoted source materials, most of which had been extremely rare books on werewolves and exactly the kind Lupin would own.

As much as it irked him to acknowledge it, Lupin really was an expert in defense against the dark arts. He’d even taught a popular undergraduate course in the subject at the Consolidated University of Magical Arts and Studies in Prague. Severus had come across a few articles he’d published in Kouzlo Temnota, a Czech journal, and had been cooly impressed by what he read. Unsurprisingly, his work displayed more of a bent toward Dark creatures than to the actual Dark magic like curses and hexes which he himself preferred, but then, who better to study such creatures than one of their own?

No, Dumbledore knows what he’s doing, as usual. He always has his reasons whether he shares them or not; if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be here either. As far as people finding out there’s a werewolf on staff, I don’t think they’d be any more impressed that a former Death Eater is teaching their little crumb-snatchers how to make potions. A few of the Slytherin families might be happy about it, but I doubt any of the others will. People are still wary, especially of late, and neither of us really has the best track record as far as Dark magic is concerned, either overtly or indirectly. Most people who knew have forgotten about him and Black by now, and lucky for him too, since the same parents who would raise hell over a werewolf teaching their precious children probably also won’t be too keen on a pervert teaching them.

The irony of his own thoughts struck him as he ground the end of his final cigarette into dust under his heel.

Well, I wonder how they’d feel about two of us?

~

Severus decided to take a shower and change his robes before going to check on Lupin, not from any desire to look his best but to conceal the fact that he’d been smoking. Standing under the skin-reddening heat of the water helped to undo the large knot in his shoulders that had developed the minute Lupin had set foot in his office and worsened the longer he’d stayed.

I cannot allow him to trouble me, not this time, but fuck if I know how exactly I’m going to manage to avoid him when I have to conduct a physical examination of him every time he takes the potion for the next few months! Irritated, he finished washing and stepped out of the shower to dress, keeping his eyes averted from the pathetic mess of scars that passed for his body as he did every time, unable to relax until he was again covered by his robes.

Nervousness began to wind its way through him as he gathered the needed tools for the examination, nervousness at having to speak directly to the man, at having to touch him. Most people would think nothing of being frightened of being alone in a room with a werewolf, but Severus wasn’t afraid of the wolf nearly as much as he was of Lupin himself. What did a wolf do but bite and tear? He could deal with these things easily through a well-cast spell or curse, but what spell was there to make Lupin’s smile less charming, his movements less elegant, his clever tongue less appealing? He knew of no such magic. It was of no help to him that the man refused to be cold toward him despite all his half-hearted attempts to goad him into hatred. Lupin persisted in his polite ways, never nosy, never more than casually friendly as he was to every other member of the staff, even Filtch, as though he had no idea how much even the most routine gesture grated on Severus’ nerves.

When they’d been younger he’d been much the same, always friendly but never intrusive; his curious kindness, more subtle than outright camaraderie, had plagued Severus with doubts as to his intentions and with fear as to his own response.

It’s just like when we were in school only now there’s no Sirius Black around to hover threateningly if he so much as looks at me. I wonder if he ever told him everything? Remembering his long-past liaison with Lupin made him both regretful and tremulous. Funny, isn’t it, how incredibly intimate one can be without ever disrobing. And Lupin - whoever could have guessed such a proper, well-behaved boy would have possessed such a talent for domination? He hadn’t been the only person to whom Severus had so willingly submitted, but he had certainly been one of the most satisfying. Now, however, such pursuits were the farthest thing from desirable to him; indeed, any sort of intimate contact was nearly impossible for him to imagine. Having Lupin around dredged up feelings he’d hoped were as dead as the nerves beneath the silvery scars that latticed his skin.

Everyone said how lucky I was to have lived, he thought bitterly, gathering his things. They have no idea how much I wish I hadn’t.

As evening spread its cloak of violet over the forest and the moon rose low in the sky he made his way up from his chambers toward Lupin’s rooms, albeit without much haste. Belatedly, he remembered the anti-nausea tisane he had meant to give Lupin to use after taking the Wolfsbane potion and turned back to get it, adding it to his bag along with a vial of analgesic powder in case he was in much physical discomfort.

His first knock at the door went unanswered as did the second and he was about to turn away when the handle moved and the door creaked open to reveal a bleary-eyed Lupin.

‘Sorry, I was asleep. Please come in.’ He stretched, yawning, as he closed the door again, combing his fingers through the tousled bronze of his hair with a boyishly drowsy smile. ‘Awful stuff, that Wolfsbane.’

‘I brought you these,’ Severus explained shortly, handing him the medicines. ‘The powder will help relieve any pain, the tisane is for the nausea.’

‘Thank you.’ Reaching out to take the bottles from him, he wrinkled his nose. ‘Have you been smoking?’

‘Not that it’s any business of yours, but yes, I have.’

‘Bloody dreadful habit, you know. I can’t believe you still smoke!’

‘It’s my vice and I’m an adult, so I’ll do as I please,’ he snapped angrily. ‘What about you? Still fucking men?’

‘Not so much lately. Why? You offering?’ Lupin snarled back just as viciously, a feral gleam lighting his eyes. ‘It’s been a shitty week and if you’re still in to that sort of thing, I could certainly use someone to beat right about now.’

Severus felt himself jerk as though he’d been slapped, feeling the blood drain from his face. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t mean it like that, he reminded himself, clasping his hands tightly around the handle of his bag to hide their shaking. Some fear must have shown through his practised facade for the fight went out of Lupin almost instantly, the anger replaced with a cautious concern.

‘I’m sorry.’ Lupin sagged into one of the faded armchairs that flanked the fireplace, propping his head in one hand with a sigh. ‘I really do feel absolutely vile but that’s no excuse to not control my temper.’

‘The potion can do that sometimes,’ Severus explained haltingly, slow to recover his voice. ‘The first few doses can create an imbalance in impulse control. That’s one of the reasons you need to get used to it before the students get here.’

‘That and the skull-splitting nausea,’ he replied ruefully. ‘I’m afraid I was rather violently sick out of a third-storey window on my way up here. Will that negate the first dose?’

Grateful to be back in a role where he felt secure, Severus decided to overlook their disagreement and get on with what he came to do. ‘No, what made you sick was a reaction to the potion entering your bloodstream. Have you felt dizzy or light-headed?’

‘I’m not sure. I, er, had a little whisky to get the taste out of my mouth.’

‘You could have brushed your teeth,’ he admonished.

‘I did. Three times. It didn’t help.’

Warily, he moved to Lupin’s side, setting his bag on the small end table near the armchair and removing the items he needed, placing them one by one in the order that they would be used. ‘It doesn’t sound as though you’re having an abnormal reaction, but I’m going to need to examine you anyway.’

‘Do I get a lollipop after?’

Severus blinked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘What?’

Smiling, Lupin shook his head. ‘Nothing, I forgot. . . It’s something Muggle doctors would do back when I was a child. If you were good during an exam, you would get a lolly or a boiled sweet after.’

‘Oh.’ The stern, ancient Healer he’d been taken to as a child had barely acknowledged him, much less offered any sugary bribes. ‘Did you usually get one?’

‘Every time. I was a very patient child. Of course, we stopped going to Muggle doctors after a while. . .’

‘Of course.’ Few of the unfortunate parents of werewolves took their children to see wizarding Healers; indeed, few took them for medical care at all. He couldn’t begin to imagine the reaction a Muggle doctor would have if faced with such a child, if in fact they could even believe the affliction was real. Lupin’s parents must have loved him a great deal to have gone through the expense and social isolation involved in raising a werewolf as a child.

I wonder what it’s like to have parents so devoted to you? he mused, surreptitiously glancing at Lupin while he prepared for the examination. The buttery glow of the firelight smoothed the fine lines on his face and warmed the silver in his hair, making him look even younger than his thirty-three years. He must have been a lovely child. He certainly still is handsome. Catching himself, Severus shook his head briefly as if to clear away such unwanted thoughts before beginning his work.

‘Lumos minimus.’ The tip of his wand began to glow faintly. ‘Turn toward me. Don’t blink.’

Lupin turned obediently, the verdant-flecked honey of his eyes luminous as he passed his wand over both of them in turn. His pupils dilated and contracted equally, a good sign. ‘Nox.’ Placing his wand back in his pocket, Severus lifted a small timer and wound it a few times.

‘I need to take your pulse.’ Lupin’s skin was surprisingly warm, the slender muscles strong beneath the softness of his inner wrist. With a little self-control, he was able to focus solely on counting the beats of his pulse instead of the feel of his skin under his fingers. Nevertheless, he felt a bit relieved when the timer went and he could let go. Placing the instrument back into his bag, he picked up the stethoscope and held it firmly against Lupin’s back. Good thing this works just as well through robes as it does without them. ‘Breathe deeply.’

‘Is that a stethoscope?’ Lupin asked, his voice reverberating up the instrument. ‘I thought only Muggle doctors used those.’

‘They’re still suitable for their purpose. Please don’t talk. I need to hear your lungs.’ Something wasn’t as it should be; beneath the normal noise of breathing, he thought he heard a faint, unusual whisper of sound.

‘Sorry,’ he whispered, lapsing into silence save for his breathing.

Severus slid the bright brass circle over the wiry surface of Lupin’s shoulders, listening intently for the elusive sound. ‘Breathe deeply.’ There it was, a soft, damp rasping. ‘Again. And again.’ Yes, there was definitely something. ‘Have you been ill recently?’

‘No, not since this past February.’

Frowning, he turned to listen to his heart. Sure enough, there was a gentle murmur in counterpoint to the otherwise steady rhythm of a regular heartbeat. ‘Have you been short of breath or had difficulty breathing lately?’

‘Yes, why?’ Lupin moved around in his chair to watch as he folded the stethoscope up and returned it to his bag. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Maybe. Have you ever been diagnosed with any cardiovascular or pulmonary problems?’

Lupin was biting his lower lip, an expression that would have been charming had he not looked so concerned. ‘No, never.’

‘Well, you have now. I hear a distinct murmur in your heart and sort of an odd rasping sound in your lungs. If you haven’t been ill lately and have no pre-existing problems, well. . . I’m afraid there’s only one explanation.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Another one of the joys of being a werewolf - we sicken and die rather early,’ he said, bitter resignation heavy in his tone. ‘Will this affect my being able to take the potion?’ Rising abruptly from his chair, he paced over to a small cabinet from which he removed two glasses and a bottle of whisky.

‘Not at all. It’s the best thing to do, really; the potion seems to lessen the physical strain of transforming as well. Your pulse is strong and the murmur isn’t terribly noticeable, so I don’t think it’s anything to worry about much for the time being. I do recommend finding yourself a specialist who deals with lycanthropy-linked cardiopulmonary deterioration and seeing what treatment they offer.’

Lupin gave a small, sardonic laugh. ‘Yes, well, when I’m extremely wealthy, I’ll do just that.’

Without thinking, Severus retorted, ‘Why not just use Black’s money? He certainly isn’t!’ Realising what he had said, he froze, certain for a brief moment that Lupin was going to attack him.

The other man’s entire body tensed as though he wanted to, but he remained still. ‘Do not. . . ever. . . say his name in front of me again.’ His voice was a growl, the effort it took for him to speak evident in every taut syllable.

‘I’m - I apologise, I wasn’t thinking. . .’

‘Please go.’

Severus gathered his things and left as quickly as possible, sure as he closed the door behind himself that he heard the sound of a glass shattering against a wall.

{cut quote from Joy Division, 'Isolation'.}