![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coriariaCharacters: Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, reference to others from POA.
Word count: 5100
Warnings: Angst. Ambiguous ending.
Rating: PG
Notes: this is a standalone fic but fits within the context of a longer story "Cast in the Mould". The first fic in this series is "Quite the little dark arts expert". The second is "Where there was one marauder."
Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction. All recognisable characters belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this etc.
1.
“Severus, do come in. Would you like tea? A lemon drop?”
Snape shook his head.
“Sit down, Severus. Are you sure about that tea?”
“What is it?”
“Always in a rush, dear boy. The pace of life, thesedays, I don’t know.”
Snape held his tongue. He wouldn’t speed things up by speaking. Dumbledore took his time pouring out a cup of tea and settling himself comfortably in a chair.
“So Severus, I wanted to discuss the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.”
Snape took a slow breath, steadying himself.
“It’s time then?” he asked softly.
“No, it’s not time, Severus,” Dumbledore replied, in a measured but firm tone. “It’s clearly far from time.”
“But Black’s escape–“
“Means nothing, Severus. There’s no sign of Voldemort returning. We are far from the end.”
Snape dropped his head.
“I merely wanted to apprise you of the identity of our new teacher before the staff meeting. It would be good to avoid any… unseemly reaction.”
“What?” Snape snapped.
“Well, dear boy, it’s someone with whom you have some history.”
Snape held himself very still.
“Remus Lupin.”
The cup of tea Dumbledore held suddenly shattered, showering his robe in liquid. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and Snape felt his face heat.
“Hmm, it was a good idea to let you know in advance, wasn’t it. Wouldn’t want that kind of scene in the staffroom. People might wonder.”
He cast Evanesco over his robe and the shattered cup and tea vanished, leaving the robe intact.
“Albus, are you insane?”
Snape got to his feet, hands clenched into fists.
“There’s really no need for that, Severus. I know you have something of a problem with Remus, dear boy–“
“Problem? I loathe the man.”
“That’s what you call it, do you?” Dumbledore’s voice carried a trace of amusement.
Snape glared at him.
“I’ve been in your mind, Severus. I’ve seen your memories. You can’t lie to me about it.”
“You’ve misinterpreted. It was… a mild infatuation. Not even that. No, it was brief physical attraction. Over almost before it started. It’s nothing.”
Dumbledore gave a small smile, although his eyes were not twinkling.
“Denial, Severus. It’s not healthy.”
“It’s not denial. His friends bullied me for years and he just looked the other way. Then they tried to kill me. For which you… you gave Black detention. Detention.”
Snape spat the word out, his face twisting in disgust.
“Dear boy, don’t get yourself so worked up.”
“Worked up? You… I’m not worked up.”
Snape was starting to breathe heavily, feeling like he was losing control. Suddenly he needed to be out of that office. He whirled around and attempted to storm from the room, but was brought up short when he collided with a wall of wards filling the doorway. Dumbledore had clearly anticipated Snape storming off in a rage.
“You need to get over yourself, Severus. Harden up. Boys will be boys. You got up to some rather unpleasant things with your friends. And you knew more Dark Arts than any of them.”
“That was hardly my fault, you know that,” Snape hissed back. “My mother sent me to my Uncle Walden and he practiced his curses on me. Taught me to do the same on the house elves. I thought that was normal. I thought that was what wizards did.”
“Your uncle may have been a little harsh, but a bit of discipline never hurt anyone, Severus. Look at your students. Outstanding NEWTS and OWLS. Far better than they ever were with Horace.”
Snape sneered and looked away. Dumbledore’s indifference had been a sore point for years.
“And how do you think Lupin will manage to discipline the students. The man has less spine than a flobberworm.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will manage. Lupin’s surprisingly resourceful.”
“Really. Perhaps he will threaten to eat them?”
“You will not refer to that, Severus. I will not tolerate it.”
Dumbledore’s voice had taken on a hard tone, and he stepped closer. Snape could smell lemon drops on his breath.
“You understand that, don’t you, dear boy.”
Snape shivered and stepped back.
“Severus?”
“Yes, Albus,” he mumbled, looking at the floor. He wanted to be out of that office, and the only way was to comply.
“Well, that’s just marvellous. Dismissed.”
Dumbledore waved his hand at the door and Snape fled the office.
2.
Snape was all ready to loathe Lupin. He’d watched the werewolf buttering up his colleagues, polite to the point of being obsequious, ingratiating himself by offering to be on every stupid committee and do every little extra job, listening to their stultifyingly monotonous droning as if he was utterly fascinated. He’d watched him winning over the students with humourous stories, inflating their adolescent egos with praise for the mere act of producing a half competent Periculum, pretending to be amused at their infantile antics and cheering them with cloying sympathy and chocolate.
And then the damned man had grown a backbone.
Lupin had been about to teach the third years, and Snape had snapped out some remark about Longbottom’s incompetence or stupidity. Lupin had smiled a small smile, raised his eyebrows and responded in the boy’s defence.
Snape managed to avoid falling over in shock, and stalked off, thinking that was the last of it.
But it wasn’t.
“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking, Lupin? How dare you?”
“Well, Severus, you put me in a difficult position. It’s rather unusual for a student’s boggart to be a fellow teacher. I really wasn’t expecting that.”
“So it’s my fault, is it?”
“I can’t say you are entirely free of blame, Severus. You became a student’s worst fear. What does that say about you? I’m rather disappointed to find you’ve turned into a bully.”
“So sorry to have disappointed you, Lupin.”
“Oh, I find that unlikely, Severus.”
Lupin raised his eyebrows in that way he had.
“Longbottom’s grandmother, Lupin,” Snape hissed, with barely concealed rage. “You made him picture me in her clothes. An entire class of third years saw it. Potter saw it. The entire school is sniggering about it. Once again, Lupin, once again you allow me to be humiliated…”
“You don’t let things go, do you Severus.”
“No. I. Don’t. Lupin.”
He forced the words out from between clenched teeth.
“Don’t think this is the end of it, Lupin.”
Snape stepped forward, invading Lupin’s space. He realised, too late, that it was hard to physically intimidate Lupin, given that he was a good four inches taller than Snape.
“Oh, I’d never think that, Severus. I look forward to discussing it in the years to come.”
Snape took a breath and managed to stop himself from hexing the man. He had to look up glare at Lupin, only to see him smirking back. Lupin raised his eyebrows again, and Snape realised, to his horror, that he liked this more assertive Lupin. He appeared on the surface to be as ineffectual as ever, but there was a subtle edge of sarcasm to his politeness and look in his eye that made it clear he wouldn’t be walked over.
But it hurt that Lupin had finally done this in order to stand up to Snape. When Snape had needed someone to stand up for him, Lupin had done nothing. Now that Snape didn’t need him, didn’t want him, there he was, insinuating his way back into Snape’s affection.
“I have nothing to discuss with you, Lupin. I never will.”
3.
Of course, that proved to be entirely untrue. There was no end of things that Snape wanted to say to Lupin. Although he couldn’t say what he wanted, he still found plenty to comment on. Lupin’s shabby robes. His unconventional approach to teaching the students. His general uselessness. The fact that his presence required the brewing of the Wolfsbane potion – demanding from Snape hours of work and noxious fumes to keep the beast from endangering the students and staff of the school.
Snape found himself berating the students more often in Lupin’s presence, in order to goad him into defending them. He found himself criticising his collegues in front of Lupin in the staffroom, trying to start an argument. The werewolf remained unfailingly polite but firm. He wouldn’t tolerate Snape picking on the students or staff, but he managed to defend them without raising his voice or losing his temper. He seemed, Snape had to admit, more amused than upset by Snape’s words.
It was late, and Snape was marking essays with liberal quantities of red ink and a small glass of cheap firewhisky when he was disturbed by a knock at the door. He looked up for a moment, then decided to ignore the knock. He was in no mood for conversation. He’d had a frustrating day, dealing with a defiant Potter, whose head had somehow made its way into Hogsmeade. It had been too much to hope that the head might have become detached from the body. Then he’d found that damned map, and been insulted from beyond the grave by Potter senior. His cronies, including the werewolf, had joined in, before it got even worse as the actual werewolf turned up.
The knock repeated itself.
“Severus, I know you are there.”
“Go away, Lupin.”
“Severus, I need to talk to you.”
“I, however, have no need to talk to you, Lupin. Go away.”
“Severus, will you please let me in? Otherwise I’ll just shout through the door, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want that.”
Snape was silent.
“Severus?”
Snape pointed his wand at the door and opened it. Lupin stood there, holding a half-filled bottle. He raised it slightly towards Snape.
“We need to talk. I thought this might help.”
He stepped into the room, flicked the door closed behind him and walked across to Snape’s desk. He lifted Snape’s glass and sniffed. His nose wrinkled slightly.
“I can do better than that, Severus,” Lupin said, a slight smile on his lips.
He vanished the remaining firewhisky in Snape’s glass and poured a generous measure from his bottle. He conjured another glass – perhaps noting that Snape had only one – and poured some for himself.
Snape looked at the bottle and then sniffed his glass suspiciously.
“How do you afford Blishen’s firewhisky, Lupin. You can barely afford to clothe yourself.”
Lupin stood, looking down at Snape with a vaguely amused expression.
“Priorities, Severus. It’s all about priorities. I happen to consider a decent drink rather more important than the latest robes.”
Snape thought that Lupin had a point. His clothing was scruffy and patched, but when Lupin stood that way, his posture relaxed and confident, his eyes with a faint flicker of amusement, it didn’t matter one bit. Snape couldn’t take his eyes off the man.
Lupin looked around and summoned the one comfortable chair in the room. He sat himself down and took a mouthful of his drink. He gave a sigh of pleasure.
“Ah, that’s good. I don’t get to drink it often.”
Snape took a cautious sip of Lupin’s firewhisky. It was indeed good. But the presence of Lupin in his rooms made Snape distinctly uncomfortable.
“Lupin, was there a point to this?”
The werewolf turned the full intensity of his gaze on Snape.
“Two things, Severus, there are two things which must be said. Firstly, I wish to apologise to you. I quite clearly owe you a number of apologies. Secondly, I need to talk to you about your behaviour towards Harry and Neville.”
“And what if I don’t wish to hear what you have to say, Lupin? I have no desire to hear your apologies. I don’t care whether you prostrate yourself on the floor before me, nothing you say or do will make a scrap of difference to what happened. And I certainly don’t want to discuss those annoying Gryffindors with you.”
“I’m sorry that you don’t want to hear my apology, Severus. But that is your choice. You know it has been offered, so when you are ready to hear it, it’s there.”
“Then leave, Lupin.”
Snape rose and aimed his wand at the door. It flung open, but Lupin turned and immediately shut it again. He also rose, and walked over to where Snape stood.
“No, Severus. It’s your choice whether you hear my apology, but you will hear what I have to say about Harry and Neville.”
There was a hard tone to Lupin’s voice, one that made Snape slightly uncomfortable. To add to his discomfort, Lupin was taking advantage of his height. He had moved close to Snape, and the Slytherin had to look up to meet his gaze. There was a steel to the blue eyes that he’d never seen when the man was younger.
“Harry is not his father, Severus.”
Snape sneered at him.
“That much is obvious, Lupin, given that the boy has a pulse. Were he his father, I assume he’d be completely decomposed by now.”
Snape felt slightly dissatisfied by the look that flashed across the werewolf’s face. There may have been a flash of annoyance, but he mostly just looked resigned. It reminded Snape of the boy Lupin, weak and defeated.
Lupin sighed.
“You really are determined to be horrible about this, aren’t you Severus? Once again, that’s your choice. I really don’t care how rude you are to me. After thirty years as a werewolf, a few sarcastic comments really don’t trouble me. What’s not acceptable is the way you treat Harry, just because his father was awful to you.”
“Do you think I care what’s acceptable or not to you, Lupin.”
Snape took a step back, to make it easier to sneer down his nose at Lupin. It didn’t work, as the tall werewolf moved straight back into Snape’s personal space, and continued speaking as if Snape had said nothing.
“As for Neville, you don’t even have the excuse of being bullied by his father. Your treatment of him is inexcusable. The boy is entirely blameless…”
“He’s an idiot. He’s pathetic and weak. A coward.”
“I beg to differ, Severus. He requires a little patience, that is all.”
“He’s an irritating little brat.”
The werewolf moved closer again to Snape.
“If finding someone irritating justified bullying them, Severus, then you’d hardly have anything to complain about, would you?”
Lupin tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Suddenly Snape felt rage engulf him, and he raised his hands and shoved the taller man away from him. Lupin staggered backwards.
“Well, Lupin,” Snape spat, “You’d know all about justifying bullying, wouldn’t you?”
Lupin righted himself and spend a moment composing himself.
“Actually, Severus, I can’t justify bullying and I can’t justify looking the other way when someone is being bullied. I have no excuse. That’s why I wish to apologise to you. I am very sorry, Severus–“
“Save it, Lupin,” Snape hissed. He raised his wand.
“Severus, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Snape looked hard at Lupin, aware of a change to the tone of his voice. He realised that Lupin also had his wand in his hand and that although it wasn’t raised, it was pointing directly at Snape.
“What’s the hard way, Lupin? Are you going to body-bind me and give me a lecture?”
“Oh, I was thinking of a rather nice little hex that gives you a shock when you say certain words and phrases. I was thinking maybe of “idiot”, “fool” and “just like your father”…”
Lupin raised his eyebrows and Snape glared back. He didn’t put it past Lupin, in fact he distinctly remembered the Marauders using it in a prank once.
“And the easy way?”
“I apologise for being an utter berk at school, you agree to be less hard on Harry and Neville, then we sit and drink some more of that firewhisky over a game of chess. Which I will probably win.”
Snape gave a sigh. The easy way really did sound more appealing. He picked up his glass and topped it up, before handing the bottle to Lupin.
“You really think you can beat me at chess, Gryffindor?”
4.
The evening of drinking and playing chess had cleared the air. Snape finally allowed Lupin’s apologies and, under the influence of a substantial quantity of firewhisky, had even grudgingly accepted them. He couldn’t say that he trusted Lupin, but a tentative friendship had been formed.
Snape duly attempted to be less hard on Potter and Longbottom. Lupin hadn’t said he had to be nice to them, so he simply attempted to balance the number of insults he sent their way with insults to the other students. When he felt like unleashing a tirade, he remembered Lupin’s threat of a hex. Snape’s new approach seemed to make no difference to either boy – Potter was still insolent, Neville still timid – but Lupin was happier with him, and that was all that mattered as far as he was concerned.
Although they met occasionally for a quiet chat or a chess game throughout the month, Snape found he looked forward to preparing and delivering Lupin’s Wolfsbane potion. It meant meeting Lupin daily for the best part of a week, and receiving his grateful thanks. After drinking the potion, Lupin would chat for a while, maybe inviting Snape to share a cup of tea and a biscuit, or occasionally chocolate. He knew that Lupin would never return his feelings, but he was happy enough just to be graced with the the werewolf’s gentle smile.
It had all turned to hell when he went to deliver Lupin’s potion one afternoon and the man wasn’t there. What was there instead was that accursed parchment, the one that had already insulted him. This time there were no insults, instead he could see that it was a map. A map of Hogwarts. And names. There was “Severus Snape” in Lupin’s office. There was Dumbledore in his office and Minerva McGonagall in her rooms. And there was Lupin, heading for the Shrieking Shack. Snape had followed the path on the map and then saw the name that caused a chill to pass through him. Sirius Black.
Snape felt one of his immaculate dragonhide boots step up to the ankle in mud. He swore and moved his wand down to give himself better light. He was about to vanish the mud when he realised that the path ahead didn’t get any better. His other boot was nearly as filthy, and the edge of his robe had clearly been dragged through the dirt too. What was the point in cleaning up?
He cursed Dumbledore’s insistence that he join Hagrid and Madame Pomphrey in scouring the Forbidden Forest at dawn for the werewolf. He knew that Dumbledore was angry at his outburst in front of the Minister, and he also suspected that Dumbledore considered him negligent in some way because Lupin hadn’t had his potion. So he was being punished with an early morning hike through the mud.
Snape raised his wand and scanned the area. Still no sign of the werewolf. He could have gone miles, and if he didn’t turn up soon, they’d have to rethink their plan for finding him. Snape put his wand away and moved on, his boots squelching slightly on the muddy path. It was going to take more than a few charms to get them clean.
He finally found Lupin after questioning a group of centaurs. They’d directed him to a gully, and he’d found the werewolf face down in long-dead leaves. After years of imagining him naked, this wasn’t exactly the way Snape had hoped to see him. There was a vicious-looking bruise across his back, a hoofprint at its centre, courtesy of the hippogriff. One arm had a ragged bite wound – probably from Black – and there was a similar wound on his thigh. His other arm was curled protectively over his head.
“Lupin, are you alive?”
Snape prodded the werewolf’s side with the toe of his boot, and Lupin drew in a sharp breath.
“Severus?”
“Your common sense may have departed, but your powers of observation have not abandoned you, I see.”
Lupin lifted his head to stare at Snape with reddened eyes. Snape was uncertain whether it was the transformation, or he had been crying.
“I’m so sorry, Severus, I’m so sorry about last night. I… I saw Peter – I saw him on the map. And… I… I… didn’t think.”
Lupin’s head dropped back down, and he gave a small whimper.
“Spare me the histrionics. You should be counting yourself lucky you didn’t kill or turn anyone last night.”
“I didn’t? Thank Merlin. I… I couldn’t be sure. Sirius… he tried to stop me. I know I hurt him though. Probably badly. How is he?”
Lupin looked up again, his face filled with concern for that damned mutt. As always. Over the past few months, Snape had begun to think that Lupin had changed. That he wasn’t the same whipped puppy he once was, following at the heels of Black and Potter. That he could think for himself. That Remus Lupin had actually grown a spine.
What a fool he had been.
The werewolf had, once again, allowed Snape to be humiliated. He’d led him on, acting as if he cared, and yet, all that time, he’d been keeping Black’s secret. Then all it had taken was Black to say “oh no, it wasn’t me, it was Peter” and Lupin had been called to heel as he always had been.
At the shrieking shack, Black had taunted him, Lupin had vacillated and Snape had lost control – of himself, and of the situation. And then the next generation had joined in, Potter picking up where his father had left off, and the next thing he knew he was coming to awareness to see Lupin transform and Pettigrew escape.
Snape looked into the anxious eyes of Lupin and desperately wanted to hurt him. He wanted to kick him in the teeth with his boots, but he still had some remaining self control. But he didn’t see the need to provide the werewolf with any comfort.
“I have absolutely no idea, Lupin. With any luck, he’s with the dementors.”
“Oh… oh no. But he’s innocent. He can’t go back to Azkaban. Severus… it was Peter. Not Sirius… not Sirius.”
“Black was never innocent, Lupin.”
The werewolf at least had the decency to look just a little ashamed.
“Sirius did things that were reprehensible, yes. But they were not crimes that deserved twelve years in Azkaban.”
Lupin began to push himself up onto his elbows, wincing as he did so. He took his weight mostly on one arm, and Snape could see through the mud that there was another awful bruise on his shoulder.
“Severus, I do appreciate you coming to help me. It’s very kind after all that happened last night.”
Snape gave a snort of disgust. He raised his wand and a watery, amorphous patronus emerged.
“I’m not kind, and don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ve come because I care what happens to you. I’m here because Albus ordered me, no other reason. I’ve called Hagrid and Poppy. They might actually care.”
“Oh… well, I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Snape stood looking down at him, a sneer fixed to his face. The werewolf was not going to charm his way out of this one.
“Severus, you said you thought Sirius would be with the dementors. But… what about Peter? Once the Ministry knows he’s alive…”
“And how would they know that, Lupin?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“He escaped, Lupin. While you were… “
Snape couldn’t finish his sentence, suddenly nauseated. He’d taken years to get the sight of the transforming Lupin from his nightmares. He hadn’t even seen the transformation the first time, his mind filling in the gaps between the quiet boy and the savage wolf. But the reality had been so much worse than his nightmares. Not so much the sight of it, but the sound – Lupin’s screams of terror and agony. He’d seen torture, had stood by and watched, and later participated, as a Death Eater. But this, this was somehow worse. Every month, that was what Lupin endured. That was what Lupin was anticipating on those days when he offered Snape tea and biscuits after the delivery of Wolfsbane.
Snape turned away, and saw Hagrid and Madame Pomphey walking towards them. He waved a hand in the general direction of Lupin and then walked off without looking at the werewolf again.
5.
The morning after was always the worst time every month.
First, he would slowly come back to awareness, feeling cold floor or damp earth beneath him, with no idea why he was there. Everything would hurt and he would try to avoid moving, instead focusing on trying to remember. His memories would be confused, filled with overwhelming smells and agonised screaming. He would give up on his mind and attempt to move his body. The jolts of pain when he moved his limbs would somehow clear his mind, and then he’d know.
Sweet Merlin, I’m a werewolf. What the hell did I do last night?
He’d gingerly move his arms and legs, checking for breaks and severe wounds. This time there were no breaks, except possibly a cracked rib or two. Merlin, his back hurt. He wasn’t sure if he could walk. He wondered if anyone would come for him.
His arm hurt too, and his thigh. He moved himself so he could see his arm, and saw the wound. It was a bite. What had bitten him? He remembered vaguely that he would sometimes bite himself, but this seemed wrong. Something a bit smaller.
He remembered a black shape launching at him, and then, as it always did eventually, the memories came back in a flood.
Sirius. He’d been there. For a moment, there was a wonderful feeling of lightness as he remembered what he’d learned about Sirius that night. Then it came crashing down as he remembered Peter. He felt brutally betrayed all over again.
And then he saw another face, another angry, troubled, black-haired wizard. Snape had appeared, gloating and goading and being about as helpful in resolving the situation as Albus’s ill-timed offers of lemon drops. But Lupin had seen something beyond the sneering and loathing. Snape had looked utterly wounded.
When Snape had come for him, had found him lying in the leaves on the forest floor, Lupin had wondered whether things between then might not be irreparable. There had been a sort of friendship developing between Snape and himself. Perhaps Snape would be able to forgive him for once again falling into line behind Black. The hope had lasted no more than a few moments. Snape was not a forgiving man.
Lupin stood at the door to Snape’s rooms, and steeled himself for one more encounter. He didn’t expect that he would be welcomed, but he knew he had to try. He forced himself to stand straight rather than lean heavily on the walking stick, and raised his hand to knock at the door. When there was no answer, he knocked again.
“Severus, are you there?”
He was, Lupin knew, but he didn’t like to admit how strong the wolf’s senses were at this time of the month.
“Severus, can you open the door, please. We need to talk before I go.”
“Go away, Lupin.”
“Just a few minutes, Severus, and then I’ll trouble you no further.”
There was silence on the other side of the door, and then he heard the lock turn. The door swung open to reveal Snape standing with his arms folded and his face set in an icy glare. Snape said nothing, and Lupin stood gaping at him, suddenly unable to find the things he’d wanted to say.
“Well, did you have something to say or not?” Snape said, when Lupin failed to fill the silence.
“I’m sorry, Severus.”
Snape’s lip curled slightly.
“You said sorry already, Lupin, and it made as little difference then as it does now. If that’s all you have…”
“I think I understand, Severus. You were hurt when Sirius came back. All those times he picked on you and I looked the other way… you did try and put that behind you, I can see that. But when he returned and there we were again…”
Snape’s expression seemed to get even colder, and Lupin stopped himself in mid-sentence.
“You appear,” Snape replied in a scornful voice, “to have mistaken me for some kind of feeble fool who lives at the mercy of his emotions. I’m not so weak that the sight of you fawning over Black has any effect on me. I could not care less, Lupin.”
“And that’s why you told all the Slytherins I was a werewolf then, Severus?” Lupin replied, his voice beginning to sound tense. “Because you couldn’t care less?”
“You endangered students at the school with your irresponsibility, Lupin. Albus may disregard the threat you pose to staff and students alike, but I cannot. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d just quietly cover up your little… lapse. Just like last time.”
Lupin began to wilt in the face of Snape’s coldness. He’d thought they had some sort of friendship. He’d thought he begun to see a little of what Snape hid behind the sneering, sarcastic mask. Well, what he hid behind the mask was still sarcastic, but in a rather more amusing way. When his vitriol was directed at the latest act of stupidity from the Ministry or affront to the English language in the Daily Prophet, Snape was actually quite entertaining. The times they had shared tea, or something stronger, and played chess had been remarkably pleasant.
There was something more, too. Occasionally, Lupin had seen moments of the boy he’d known at Hogwarts. The Snape he’d known then had certainly fought back when attacked, but he hadn’t been a bully himself. Lupin hadn’t forgotten the time that Snape had helped him, despite the Slytherin having to opportunity to look the other way. It proved to Lupin that Snape still had the potential to be something other than the bitter, vindictive bully he’d become.
All that was lost from Lupin’s sight now. Looking into the cold eyes and seeing the lips twist in a vicious sneer, he knew that whatever trust had been slowly building between them was now utterly shattered.
Lupin looked down and sighed. There was nothing more he could say or do here.
“Goodbye, Severus. For what it’s worth, I bear you no animosity, and wish you all the best.”
He turned and walked away, footsteps echoing in a corridor which was as empty as he felt.
Word count: 5100
Warnings: Angst. Ambiguous ending.
Rating: PG
Notes: this is a standalone fic but fits within the context of a longer story "Cast in the Mould". The first fic in this series is "Quite the little dark arts expert". The second is "Where there was one marauder."
Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction. All recognisable characters belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this etc.
1.
“Severus, do come in. Would you like tea? A lemon drop?”
Snape shook his head.
“Sit down, Severus. Are you sure about that tea?”
“What is it?”
“Always in a rush, dear boy. The pace of life, thesedays, I don’t know.”
Snape held his tongue. He wouldn’t speed things up by speaking. Dumbledore took his time pouring out a cup of tea and settling himself comfortably in a chair.
“So Severus, I wanted to discuss the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.”
Snape took a slow breath, steadying himself.
“It’s time then?” he asked softly.
“No, it’s not time, Severus,” Dumbledore replied, in a measured but firm tone. “It’s clearly far from time.”
“But Black’s escape–“
“Means nothing, Severus. There’s no sign of Voldemort returning. We are far from the end.”
Snape dropped his head.
“I merely wanted to apprise you of the identity of our new teacher before the staff meeting. It would be good to avoid any… unseemly reaction.”
“What?” Snape snapped.
“Well, dear boy, it’s someone with whom you have some history.”
Snape held himself very still.
“Remus Lupin.”
The cup of tea Dumbledore held suddenly shattered, showering his robe in liquid. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and Snape felt his face heat.
“Hmm, it was a good idea to let you know in advance, wasn’t it. Wouldn’t want that kind of scene in the staffroom. People might wonder.”
He cast Evanesco over his robe and the shattered cup and tea vanished, leaving the robe intact.
“Albus, are you insane?”
Snape got to his feet, hands clenched into fists.
“There’s really no need for that, Severus. I know you have something of a problem with Remus, dear boy–“
“Problem? I loathe the man.”
“That’s what you call it, do you?” Dumbledore’s voice carried a trace of amusement.
Snape glared at him.
“I’ve been in your mind, Severus. I’ve seen your memories. You can’t lie to me about it.”
“You’ve misinterpreted. It was… a mild infatuation. Not even that. No, it was brief physical attraction. Over almost before it started. It’s nothing.”
Dumbledore gave a small smile, although his eyes were not twinkling.
“Denial, Severus. It’s not healthy.”
“It’s not denial. His friends bullied me for years and he just looked the other way. Then they tried to kill me. For which you… you gave Black detention. Detention.”
Snape spat the word out, his face twisting in disgust.
“Dear boy, don’t get yourself so worked up.”
“Worked up? You… I’m not worked up.”
Snape was starting to breathe heavily, feeling like he was losing control. Suddenly he needed to be out of that office. He whirled around and attempted to storm from the room, but was brought up short when he collided with a wall of wards filling the doorway. Dumbledore had clearly anticipated Snape storming off in a rage.
“You need to get over yourself, Severus. Harden up. Boys will be boys. You got up to some rather unpleasant things with your friends. And you knew more Dark Arts than any of them.”
“That was hardly my fault, you know that,” Snape hissed back. “My mother sent me to my Uncle Walden and he practiced his curses on me. Taught me to do the same on the house elves. I thought that was normal. I thought that was what wizards did.”
“Your uncle may have been a little harsh, but a bit of discipline never hurt anyone, Severus. Look at your students. Outstanding NEWTS and OWLS. Far better than they ever were with Horace.”
Snape sneered and looked away. Dumbledore’s indifference had been a sore point for years.
“And how do you think Lupin will manage to discipline the students. The man has less spine than a flobberworm.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will manage. Lupin’s surprisingly resourceful.”
“Really. Perhaps he will threaten to eat them?”
“You will not refer to that, Severus. I will not tolerate it.”
Dumbledore’s voice had taken on a hard tone, and he stepped closer. Snape could smell lemon drops on his breath.
“You understand that, don’t you, dear boy.”
Snape shivered and stepped back.
“Severus?”
“Yes, Albus,” he mumbled, looking at the floor. He wanted to be out of that office, and the only way was to comply.
“Well, that’s just marvellous. Dismissed.”
Dumbledore waved his hand at the door and Snape fled the office.
2.
Snape was all ready to loathe Lupin. He’d watched the werewolf buttering up his colleagues, polite to the point of being obsequious, ingratiating himself by offering to be on every stupid committee and do every little extra job, listening to their stultifyingly monotonous droning as if he was utterly fascinated. He’d watched him winning over the students with humourous stories, inflating their adolescent egos with praise for the mere act of producing a half competent Periculum, pretending to be amused at their infantile antics and cheering them with cloying sympathy and chocolate.
And then the damned man had grown a backbone.
Lupin had been about to teach the third years, and Snape had snapped out some remark about Longbottom’s incompetence or stupidity. Lupin had smiled a small smile, raised his eyebrows and responded in the boy’s defence.
Snape managed to avoid falling over in shock, and stalked off, thinking that was the last of it.
But it wasn’t.
“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking, Lupin? How dare you?”
“Well, Severus, you put me in a difficult position. It’s rather unusual for a student’s boggart to be a fellow teacher. I really wasn’t expecting that.”
“So it’s my fault, is it?”
“I can’t say you are entirely free of blame, Severus. You became a student’s worst fear. What does that say about you? I’m rather disappointed to find you’ve turned into a bully.”
“So sorry to have disappointed you, Lupin.”
“Oh, I find that unlikely, Severus.”
Lupin raised his eyebrows in that way he had.
“Longbottom’s grandmother, Lupin,” Snape hissed, with barely concealed rage. “You made him picture me in her clothes. An entire class of third years saw it. Potter saw it. The entire school is sniggering about it. Once again, Lupin, once again you allow me to be humiliated…”
“You don’t let things go, do you Severus.”
“No. I. Don’t. Lupin.”
He forced the words out from between clenched teeth.
“Don’t think this is the end of it, Lupin.”
Snape stepped forward, invading Lupin’s space. He realised, too late, that it was hard to physically intimidate Lupin, given that he was a good four inches taller than Snape.
“Oh, I’d never think that, Severus. I look forward to discussing it in the years to come.”
Snape took a breath and managed to stop himself from hexing the man. He had to look up glare at Lupin, only to see him smirking back. Lupin raised his eyebrows again, and Snape realised, to his horror, that he liked this more assertive Lupin. He appeared on the surface to be as ineffectual as ever, but there was a subtle edge of sarcasm to his politeness and look in his eye that made it clear he wouldn’t be walked over.
But it hurt that Lupin had finally done this in order to stand up to Snape. When Snape had needed someone to stand up for him, Lupin had done nothing. Now that Snape didn’t need him, didn’t want him, there he was, insinuating his way back into Snape’s affection.
“I have nothing to discuss with you, Lupin. I never will.”
3.
Of course, that proved to be entirely untrue. There was no end of things that Snape wanted to say to Lupin. Although he couldn’t say what he wanted, he still found plenty to comment on. Lupin’s shabby robes. His unconventional approach to teaching the students. His general uselessness. The fact that his presence required the brewing of the Wolfsbane potion – demanding from Snape hours of work and noxious fumes to keep the beast from endangering the students and staff of the school.
Snape found himself berating the students more often in Lupin’s presence, in order to goad him into defending them. He found himself criticising his collegues in front of Lupin in the staffroom, trying to start an argument. The werewolf remained unfailingly polite but firm. He wouldn’t tolerate Snape picking on the students or staff, but he managed to defend them without raising his voice or losing his temper. He seemed, Snape had to admit, more amused than upset by Snape’s words.
It was late, and Snape was marking essays with liberal quantities of red ink and a small glass of cheap firewhisky when he was disturbed by a knock at the door. He looked up for a moment, then decided to ignore the knock. He was in no mood for conversation. He’d had a frustrating day, dealing with a defiant Potter, whose head had somehow made its way into Hogsmeade. It had been too much to hope that the head might have become detached from the body. Then he’d found that damned map, and been insulted from beyond the grave by Potter senior. His cronies, including the werewolf, had joined in, before it got even worse as the actual werewolf turned up.
The knock repeated itself.
“Severus, I know you are there.”
“Go away, Lupin.”
“Severus, I need to talk to you.”
“I, however, have no need to talk to you, Lupin. Go away.”
“Severus, will you please let me in? Otherwise I’ll just shout through the door, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want that.”
Snape was silent.
“Severus?”
Snape pointed his wand at the door and opened it. Lupin stood there, holding a half-filled bottle. He raised it slightly towards Snape.
“We need to talk. I thought this might help.”
He stepped into the room, flicked the door closed behind him and walked across to Snape’s desk. He lifted Snape’s glass and sniffed. His nose wrinkled slightly.
“I can do better than that, Severus,” Lupin said, a slight smile on his lips.
He vanished the remaining firewhisky in Snape’s glass and poured a generous measure from his bottle. He conjured another glass – perhaps noting that Snape had only one – and poured some for himself.
Snape looked at the bottle and then sniffed his glass suspiciously.
“How do you afford Blishen’s firewhisky, Lupin. You can barely afford to clothe yourself.”
Lupin stood, looking down at Snape with a vaguely amused expression.
“Priorities, Severus. It’s all about priorities. I happen to consider a decent drink rather more important than the latest robes.”
Snape thought that Lupin had a point. His clothing was scruffy and patched, but when Lupin stood that way, his posture relaxed and confident, his eyes with a faint flicker of amusement, it didn’t matter one bit. Snape couldn’t take his eyes off the man.
Lupin looked around and summoned the one comfortable chair in the room. He sat himself down and took a mouthful of his drink. He gave a sigh of pleasure.
“Ah, that’s good. I don’t get to drink it often.”
Snape took a cautious sip of Lupin’s firewhisky. It was indeed good. But the presence of Lupin in his rooms made Snape distinctly uncomfortable.
“Lupin, was there a point to this?”
The werewolf turned the full intensity of his gaze on Snape.
“Two things, Severus, there are two things which must be said. Firstly, I wish to apologise to you. I quite clearly owe you a number of apologies. Secondly, I need to talk to you about your behaviour towards Harry and Neville.”
“And what if I don’t wish to hear what you have to say, Lupin? I have no desire to hear your apologies. I don’t care whether you prostrate yourself on the floor before me, nothing you say or do will make a scrap of difference to what happened. And I certainly don’t want to discuss those annoying Gryffindors with you.”
“I’m sorry that you don’t want to hear my apology, Severus. But that is your choice. You know it has been offered, so when you are ready to hear it, it’s there.”
“Then leave, Lupin.”
Snape rose and aimed his wand at the door. It flung open, but Lupin turned and immediately shut it again. He also rose, and walked over to where Snape stood.
“No, Severus. It’s your choice whether you hear my apology, but you will hear what I have to say about Harry and Neville.”
There was a hard tone to Lupin’s voice, one that made Snape slightly uncomfortable. To add to his discomfort, Lupin was taking advantage of his height. He had moved close to Snape, and the Slytherin had to look up to meet his gaze. There was a steel to the blue eyes that he’d never seen when the man was younger.
“Harry is not his father, Severus.”
Snape sneered at him.
“That much is obvious, Lupin, given that the boy has a pulse. Were he his father, I assume he’d be completely decomposed by now.”
Snape felt slightly dissatisfied by the look that flashed across the werewolf’s face. There may have been a flash of annoyance, but he mostly just looked resigned. It reminded Snape of the boy Lupin, weak and defeated.
Lupin sighed.
“You really are determined to be horrible about this, aren’t you Severus? Once again, that’s your choice. I really don’t care how rude you are to me. After thirty years as a werewolf, a few sarcastic comments really don’t trouble me. What’s not acceptable is the way you treat Harry, just because his father was awful to you.”
“Do you think I care what’s acceptable or not to you, Lupin.”
Snape took a step back, to make it easier to sneer down his nose at Lupin. It didn’t work, as the tall werewolf moved straight back into Snape’s personal space, and continued speaking as if Snape had said nothing.
“As for Neville, you don’t even have the excuse of being bullied by his father. Your treatment of him is inexcusable. The boy is entirely blameless…”
“He’s an idiot. He’s pathetic and weak. A coward.”
“I beg to differ, Severus. He requires a little patience, that is all.”
“He’s an irritating little brat.”
The werewolf moved closer again to Snape.
“If finding someone irritating justified bullying them, Severus, then you’d hardly have anything to complain about, would you?”
Lupin tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Suddenly Snape felt rage engulf him, and he raised his hands and shoved the taller man away from him. Lupin staggered backwards.
“Well, Lupin,” Snape spat, “You’d know all about justifying bullying, wouldn’t you?”
Lupin righted himself and spend a moment composing himself.
“Actually, Severus, I can’t justify bullying and I can’t justify looking the other way when someone is being bullied. I have no excuse. That’s why I wish to apologise to you. I am very sorry, Severus–“
“Save it, Lupin,” Snape hissed. He raised his wand.
“Severus, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Snape looked hard at Lupin, aware of a change to the tone of his voice. He realised that Lupin also had his wand in his hand and that although it wasn’t raised, it was pointing directly at Snape.
“What’s the hard way, Lupin? Are you going to body-bind me and give me a lecture?”
“Oh, I was thinking of a rather nice little hex that gives you a shock when you say certain words and phrases. I was thinking maybe of “idiot”, “fool” and “just like your father”…”
Lupin raised his eyebrows and Snape glared back. He didn’t put it past Lupin, in fact he distinctly remembered the Marauders using it in a prank once.
“And the easy way?”
“I apologise for being an utter berk at school, you agree to be less hard on Harry and Neville, then we sit and drink some more of that firewhisky over a game of chess. Which I will probably win.”
Snape gave a sigh. The easy way really did sound more appealing. He picked up his glass and topped it up, before handing the bottle to Lupin.
“You really think you can beat me at chess, Gryffindor?”
4.
The evening of drinking and playing chess had cleared the air. Snape finally allowed Lupin’s apologies and, under the influence of a substantial quantity of firewhisky, had even grudgingly accepted them. He couldn’t say that he trusted Lupin, but a tentative friendship had been formed.
Snape duly attempted to be less hard on Potter and Longbottom. Lupin hadn’t said he had to be nice to them, so he simply attempted to balance the number of insults he sent their way with insults to the other students. When he felt like unleashing a tirade, he remembered Lupin’s threat of a hex. Snape’s new approach seemed to make no difference to either boy – Potter was still insolent, Neville still timid – but Lupin was happier with him, and that was all that mattered as far as he was concerned.
Although they met occasionally for a quiet chat or a chess game throughout the month, Snape found he looked forward to preparing and delivering Lupin’s Wolfsbane potion. It meant meeting Lupin daily for the best part of a week, and receiving his grateful thanks. After drinking the potion, Lupin would chat for a while, maybe inviting Snape to share a cup of tea and a biscuit, or occasionally chocolate. He knew that Lupin would never return his feelings, but he was happy enough just to be graced with the the werewolf’s gentle smile.
It had all turned to hell when he went to deliver Lupin’s potion one afternoon and the man wasn’t there. What was there instead was that accursed parchment, the one that had already insulted him. This time there were no insults, instead he could see that it was a map. A map of Hogwarts. And names. There was “Severus Snape” in Lupin’s office. There was Dumbledore in his office and Minerva McGonagall in her rooms. And there was Lupin, heading for the Shrieking Shack. Snape had followed the path on the map and then saw the name that caused a chill to pass through him. Sirius Black.
Snape felt one of his immaculate dragonhide boots step up to the ankle in mud. He swore and moved his wand down to give himself better light. He was about to vanish the mud when he realised that the path ahead didn’t get any better. His other boot was nearly as filthy, and the edge of his robe had clearly been dragged through the dirt too. What was the point in cleaning up?
He cursed Dumbledore’s insistence that he join Hagrid and Madame Pomphrey in scouring the Forbidden Forest at dawn for the werewolf. He knew that Dumbledore was angry at his outburst in front of the Minister, and he also suspected that Dumbledore considered him negligent in some way because Lupin hadn’t had his potion. So he was being punished with an early morning hike through the mud.
Snape raised his wand and scanned the area. Still no sign of the werewolf. He could have gone miles, and if he didn’t turn up soon, they’d have to rethink their plan for finding him. Snape put his wand away and moved on, his boots squelching slightly on the muddy path. It was going to take more than a few charms to get them clean.
He finally found Lupin after questioning a group of centaurs. They’d directed him to a gully, and he’d found the werewolf face down in long-dead leaves. After years of imagining him naked, this wasn’t exactly the way Snape had hoped to see him. There was a vicious-looking bruise across his back, a hoofprint at its centre, courtesy of the hippogriff. One arm had a ragged bite wound – probably from Black – and there was a similar wound on his thigh. His other arm was curled protectively over his head.
“Lupin, are you alive?”
Snape prodded the werewolf’s side with the toe of his boot, and Lupin drew in a sharp breath.
“Severus?”
“Your common sense may have departed, but your powers of observation have not abandoned you, I see.”
Lupin lifted his head to stare at Snape with reddened eyes. Snape was uncertain whether it was the transformation, or he had been crying.
“I’m so sorry, Severus, I’m so sorry about last night. I… I saw Peter – I saw him on the map. And… I… I… didn’t think.”
Lupin’s head dropped back down, and he gave a small whimper.
“Spare me the histrionics. You should be counting yourself lucky you didn’t kill or turn anyone last night.”
“I didn’t? Thank Merlin. I… I couldn’t be sure. Sirius… he tried to stop me. I know I hurt him though. Probably badly. How is he?”
Lupin looked up again, his face filled with concern for that damned mutt. As always. Over the past few months, Snape had begun to think that Lupin had changed. That he wasn’t the same whipped puppy he once was, following at the heels of Black and Potter. That he could think for himself. That Remus Lupin had actually grown a spine.
What a fool he had been.
The werewolf had, once again, allowed Snape to be humiliated. He’d led him on, acting as if he cared, and yet, all that time, he’d been keeping Black’s secret. Then all it had taken was Black to say “oh no, it wasn’t me, it was Peter” and Lupin had been called to heel as he always had been.
At the shrieking shack, Black had taunted him, Lupin had vacillated and Snape had lost control – of himself, and of the situation. And then the next generation had joined in, Potter picking up where his father had left off, and the next thing he knew he was coming to awareness to see Lupin transform and Pettigrew escape.
Snape looked into the anxious eyes of Lupin and desperately wanted to hurt him. He wanted to kick him in the teeth with his boots, but he still had some remaining self control. But he didn’t see the need to provide the werewolf with any comfort.
“I have absolutely no idea, Lupin. With any luck, he’s with the dementors.”
“Oh… oh no. But he’s innocent. He can’t go back to Azkaban. Severus… it was Peter. Not Sirius… not Sirius.”
“Black was never innocent, Lupin.”
The werewolf at least had the decency to look just a little ashamed.
“Sirius did things that were reprehensible, yes. But they were not crimes that deserved twelve years in Azkaban.”
Lupin began to push himself up onto his elbows, wincing as he did so. He took his weight mostly on one arm, and Snape could see through the mud that there was another awful bruise on his shoulder.
“Severus, I do appreciate you coming to help me. It’s very kind after all that happened last night.”
Snape gave a snort of disgust. He raised his wand and a watery, amorphous patronus emerged.
“I’m not kind, and don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ve come because I care what happens to you. I’m here because Albus ordered me, no other reason. I’ve called Hagrid and Poppy. They might actually care.”
“Oh… well, I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Snape stood looking down at him, a sneer fixed to his face. The werewolf was not going to charm his way out of this one.
“Severus, you said you thought Sirius would be with the dementors. But… what about Peter? Once the Ministry knows he’s alive…”
“And how would they know that, Lupin?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“He escaped, Lupin. While you were… “
Snape couldn’t finish his sentence, suddenly nauseated. He’d taken years to get the sight of the transforming Lupin from his nightmares. He hadn’t even seen the transformation the first time, his mind filling in the gaps between the quiet boy and the savage wolf. But the reality had been so much worse than his nightmares. Not so much the sight of it, but the sound – Lupin’s screams of terror and agony. He’d seen torture, had stood by and watched, and later participated, as a Death Eater. But this, this was somehow worse. Every month, that was what Lupin endured. That was what Lupin was anticipating on those days when he offered Snape tea and biscuits after the delivery of Wolfsbane.
Snape turned away, and saw Hagrid and Madame Pomphey walking towards them. He waved a hand in the general direction of Lupin and then walked off without looking at the werewolf again.
5.
The morning after was always the worst time every month.
First, he would slowly come back to awareness, feeling cold floor or damp earth beneath him, with no idea why he was there. Everything would hurt and he would try to avoid moving, instead focusing on trying to remember. His memories would be confused, filled with overwhelming smells and agonised screaming. He would give up on his mind and attempt to move his body. The jolts of pain when he moved his limbs would somehow clear his mind, and then he’d know.
Sweet Merlin, I’m a werewolf. What the hell did I do last night?
He’d gingerly move his arms and legs, checking for breaks and severe wounds. This time there were no breaks, except possibly a cracked rib or two. Merlin, his back hurt. He wasn’t sure if he could walk. He wondered if anyone would come for him.
His arm hurt too, and his thigh. He moved himself so he could see his arm, and saw the wound. It was a bite. What had bitten him? He remembered vaguely that he would sometimes bite himself, but this seemed wrong. Something a bit smaller.
He remembered a black shape launching at him, and then, as it always did eventually, the memories came back in a flood.
Sirius. He’d been there. For a moment, there was a wonderful feeling of lightness as he remembered what he’d learned about Sirius that night. Then it came crashing down as he remembered Peter. He felt brutally betrayed all over again.
And then he saw another face, another angry, troubled, black-haired wizard. Snape had appeared, gloating and goading and being about as helpful in resolving the situation as Albus’s ill-timed offers of lemon drops. But Lupin had seen something beyond the sneering and loathing. Snape had looked utterly wounded.
When Snape had come for him, had found him lying in the leaves on the forest floor, Lupin had wondered whether things between then might not be irreparable. There had been a sort of friendship developing between Snape and himself. Perhaps Snape would be able to forgive him for once again falling into line behind Black. The hope had lasted no more than a few moments. Snape was not a forgiving man.
Lupin stood at the door to Snape’s rooms, and steeled himself for one more encounter. He didn’t expect that he would be welcomed, but he knew he had to try. He forced himself to stand straight rather than lean heavily on the walking stick, and raised his hand to knock at the door. When there was no answer, he knocked again.
“Severus, are you there?”
He was, Lupin knew, but he didn’t like to admit how strong the wolf’s senses were at this time of the month.
“Severus, can you open the door, please. We need to talk before I go.”
“Go away, Lupin.”
“Just a few minutes, Severus, and then I’ll trouble you no further.”
There was silence on the other side of the door, and then he heard the lock turn. The door swung open to reveal Snape standing with his arms folded and his face set in an icy glare. Snape said nothing, and Lupin stood gaping at him, suddenly unable to find the things he’d wanted to say.
“Well, did you have something to say or not?” Snape said, when Lupin failed to fill the silence.
“I’m sorry, Severus.”
Snape’s lip curled slightly.
“You said sorry already, Lupin, and it made as little difference then as it does now. If that’s all you have…”
“I think I understand, Severus. You were hurt when Sirius came back. All those times he picked on you and I looked the other way… you did try and put that behind you, I can see that. But when he returned and there we were again…”
Snape’s expression seemed to get even colder, and Lupin stopped himself in mid-sentence.
“You appear,” Snape replied in a scornful voice, “to have mistaken me for some kind of feeble fool who lives at the mercy of his emotions. I’m not so weak that the sight of you fawning over Black has any effect on me. I could not care less, Lupin.”
“And that’s why you told all the Slytherins I was a werewolf then, Severus?” Lupin replied, his voice beginning to sound tense. “Because you couldn’t care less?”
“You endangered students at the school with your irresponsibility, Lupin. Albus may disregard the threat you pose to staff and students alike, but I cannot. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d just quietly cover up your little… lapse. Just like last time.”
Lupin began to wilt in the face of Snape’s coldness. He’d thought they had some sort of friendship. He’d thought he begun to see a little of what Snape hid behind the sneering, sarcastic mask. Well, what he hid behind the mask was still sarcastic, but in a rather more amusing way. When his vitriol was directed at the latest act of stupidity from the Ministry or affront to the English language in the Daily Prophet, Snape was actually quite entertaining. The times they had shared tea, or something stronger, and played chess had been remarkably pleasant.
There was something more, too. Occasionally, Lupin had seen moments of the boy he’d known at Hogwarts. The Snape he’d known then had certainly fought back when attacked, but he hadn’t been a bully himself. Lupin hadn’t forgotten the time that Snape had helped him, despite the Slytherin having to opportunity to look the other way. It proved to Lupin that Snape still had the potential to be something other than the bitter, vindictive bully he’d become.
All that was lost from Lupin’s sight now. Looking into the cold eyes and seeing the lips twist in a vicious sneer, he knew that whatever trust had been slowly building between them was now utterly shattered.
Lupin looked down and sighed. There was nothing more he could say or do here.
“Goodbye, Severus. For what it’s worth, I bear you no animosity, and wish you all the best.”
He turned and walked away, footsteps echoing in a corridor which was as empty as he felt.
no subject
Date: 2017-07-10 04:28 am (UTC)It was nice to see Remus and Severus reach a temporary truce, but of course it was all too short.
Off to read the next chapter now!
no subject
Date: 2017-07-10 10:36 am (UTC)I was sorry to have things fall apart between Remus and Severus, but my goal in this series has been to stick as close to canon as possible - to have them display all their canon flaws - Severus being a vindictive bully, Remus allowing his crushingly low self-esteem to make him go against conscience and common sense.
However I don't stick THAT close to canon at the end - I refuse to kill them off!