Fic: untitled Snape/ Lupin fic chapter six

This is a work of fan fiction. The world and all recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling (apart from references to Dr Seuss) and I make no claim or profit etc etc.

Summary: Lupin and Harry realise just how troubled Snape is, and Andromeda reflects on how she was saved by her son-in-law. Lots of angst and hurt/ comfort.
Warnings: reference to child abuse, drug addiction and mental illness

Chapter 6 - Kitty
Harry knocked on the door again, while Lupin sat in his chair, Grimmy beside him.

“I don’t think there’s any point, he’s either not here, or not answering.”

“He’s here, he’s definitely here,” Lupin responded.

“And you’re sure because…”

Lupin paused, ever reluctant to admit to using the wolf’s senses.

“I can smell him, okay? He’s definitely in the flat. And I don’t think he’s washed for some days.”

“Should we try to go in? He’ll be furious if he’s just sulking in there and ignoring us, but he could be ill.”

Lupin raised his wand to the door.

“It’s not going to be easy, whatever’s going on he’s still capable of some fairly tricky wards.”

Realising that they may be loitering suspiciously for some time, Harry cast a charm so they wouldn’t be noticed by passing muggles, then the pair set to work on the wards. If Snape was merely avoiding them, they’d know soon enough.

It took half an hour before the door yielded, and they stepped inside the dark flat. They were in a room with a tatty sofa at one end and a small kitchen at the other. Lupin shuddered at the smell of damp and the close feeling of the low ceiling. The room looked largely unused, with few possessions apart from a couple of cauldrons on the kitchen bench and a pile of rubbish on the floor.

Lupin moved himself to the door at the back of the room. He opened it, ignoring the bedroom and heading through to the small bathroom on the right, following his nose.

Snape sat on the bathroom floor, legs crossed, leaning against the wall and with his head against the bath. He made no response when Lupin called his name. It was possible he had been there for a couple of days – as well as smelling unwashed, he smelled of stale urine. Lupin moved his chair closer and touched his shoulder with his hand.

“Severus, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” Snape answered, in a voice that sounded almost like a whimper. He cringed away from the hand that Lupin moved gently to his back.

“It’s okay, Severus, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Snape’s head lifted and wide dark eyes stared up at him. The pupils were huge, so much so that his eyes appeared completely black instead of just dark brown. Tears were brimming under the lower lids. Something was very wrong. Then Snape looked away and whimpered softly “please, please, don’t hurt Kitty.”

“Who’s Kitty, Severus?” he asked quietly.

Snape looked down at his lap, as if he expected to see something other than his robe and his hand. He moved his hand, as if to stroke an animal.

“Kitty’s gone”, he replied.

Lupin noticed a distinct lack of cat smell or cat hair on the man’s robe. He had no doubt he’d have noticed had there been a cat in Snape’s flat.

“I’m sure Kitty’s okay.” Lupin moved his hand from Snape’s back to the far shoulder, leaning across and wrapping his arm around the shaking man. He had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a suspicion of what was happening. “Grimmy’s here though. Would you like to say hello to Grimmy?”

Snape looked up at him, confused.

“Grimmy?”

“My dog.”

“Okay,” he said uncertainly.

Lupin tapped his leg and Grimmy walked over. The dog seemed to sense that all was not well, and was very gentle as he sniffed and then licked Snape’s face.

“He’s a big dog.”

“Yes, he is,” Lupin agreed.

“His breath smells.”

“Yes it does.”

Snape lifted his hand and cautiously touched the dog’s shoulder.

“Hello Grimmy.”

Lupin watched as man and dog greeted eachother. The nagging feeling at the back of his mind became stronger.

“Severus, can you answer a question for me?”

Snape nodded cautiously.

“Can you tell me where your parents are?”

It was the wrong question. Suddenly Snape’s eyes were open wide and his breathing rapid. He began to back away from Lupin and Grimmy in panic.

“No, please… please don’t tell them.”

“Tell them what Severus?”

“That I was here… that I hid. Don’t tell them… about Kitty. Please. Please... don’t.”

Lupin rubbed his hand gently across Snape’s back, trying to soothe away the tension and fear that his question had brought.

“No Severus, I won’t tell them. And I won’t let anybody hurt you or Kitty, okay?”

Lupin sighed. He knew for certain that Snape’s mother had died when he was fifteen, and although he didn’t know whether his father was dead or alive, he was pretty sure they hadn’t spoken in more than twenty years.

It was disturbingly easy for Lupin to convince the frightened boy in Snape’s body to come home with him, Grimmy and Harry. Snape had clutched Grimmy’s collar in one hand and had taken Lupin’s hand with the other, and, after slipping Snape’s wand into his robe, Harry had apparated them all back to the lane outside the farmhouse.

Once they were inside, Snape stood in the middle of the sitting room, trembling. When Andromeda walked up to him, he fled to the corner, where he curled himself up with his arms around his knees. At first he had just stared at Lupin, Harry and Andromeda, as if he was trying to watch them all at once, to see who was the greatest threat. Then Grimmy walked over and lay with his head at Snape’s feet, and he reached out to cautiously pat the dog. Teddy trotted up to greet him, and although Snape flinched away, he didn’t panic when the boy hugged him. Snape stared in fascination as Teddy changed his hair from blue through to red and back again. Andromeda made him toast, which he ate as if he expected someone to take it off him, although Grimmy was hovering nearby, so perhaps that threat was real rather than perceived.

Teddy brought a book over to Lupin on the sofa, as he did most afternoons before his nap.

“Story,” he said, handing the book to his father.

Lupin wrapped his left arm around the boy’s waist and lifted him into his lap. A few pages into the story, he noticed Snape standing near them, watching closely. As he read, Lupin reached out his hand and beckoned Snape to come closer. He took a cautious step, then looked away. Lupin kept reading, kept looking down at the page and Teddy. Then he felt a weight next to him, and a tentative hand on his arm. Snape’s head rested on his shoulder and his knees bent across Lupin’s leg. Lupin looked at Teddy, wondering how he would respond to this invasion of his territory, but he was absorbed with the book. Before the story was finished, Snape was asleep.

Lupin waited a few minutes, then asked Andromeda to take Teddy for his nap.

“I’m not quite sure who will wake up. If we get a death eater, I’d rather Teddy wasn’t in the room”.

“What’s happening to him Remus?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure. I suspect that he is in a memory from childhood. I’m not sure if it’s specific, but he did mention the cat, so maybe it is. There are a lot of techniques in occlumency where you use specific memories for various purposes, to mask other memories, to manage emotions. Well, you’d know that as well as me. Maybe something’s gone wrong with one of those techniques.”

Lupin paused. He wondered if the strange behaviour of the child was because the memories had become confused, or if that was what Snape had been like as a child. From the glimpses he’d had of Snape’s life over the years, he suspected the latter.

“Harry, I think there’s a book of mine on one of the shelves, Advanced Occlumency Defences. Can you find it please?”

Harry got up to find the book, and returned with a well-used tome

“Take a look and see if they have any mention of things that can go wrong. I seem to remember reading something, years ago.”

Harry opened the book and scanned the chapters.

“Occlumency hazards,” he said and flicked through the book. He sat reading silently for a few minutes.

“This isn’t quite right, ‘Memoriae Fragmentae: when excessive use is made of shielding by tidying memories up in separate locations, they can become separated from related memories. For example the occlumens might remember a birthday party, but not who it was for, what present they brought, when it occurred, or what happened before or after’.”

“I have noticed his memory isn’t quite right, but this particular problem seems to be that he thinks the memory is now, and mixes it up with current events. Anything about that?”

“Ok, this could be it. ‘Memoriae Incarcerae: when excessive use is made of specific memories to shield, distract or calm, these memories can come to dominate the mind of the occlumens, to the point that they may become trapped in the memory, and think that it is actually happening.”

“That does sound possible.”

“There’s something else – ‘These problems are relatively rare, but there is some evidence that they are also linked to excessive use of or addiction to calming or sleep potions. It is unclear whether this is the result of occlumency with the potion use, or because witches and wizards vulnerable to occlumency problems are also vulnerable to addiction.’”

“Did you see anything in his house that would indicate that? I didn’t, but then I wasn’t looking.”

“I don’t remember seeing anything, but I wasn’t poking around either.”

“Do you think you could go back and check.”

“He wouldn’t be happy about that.”

“No, but he’s not going to be happy that he fell asleep on my shoulder while I was reading him Cat in the Hat either. It’s worth the risk to understand what’s going on.”

After Harry apparated away, Andromeda came in with a blanket.

“Are you comfortable there, Remus?”

“Not really, Meda,” he responded. “Could you give me a hand to move?”

Andromeda helped Remus out from where Snape lay against him, spelled the sleeping man’s clothing clean – which would at least take the worst of the smell away – then covered him gently with a blanket. Remus handed her the book that Harry had found, and she read it silently. She nodded.

“What are we going to do with him?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I just knew we couldn’t leave him alone in that state. I don’t know if it is realistic to look after him here, he might be better at St Mungo’s. Then again, they may take one look at him and send him straight to the Asphodel Fields.”

Andromeda grimaced. The war had left too many broken souls to be accommodated at St Mungo’s, and many had been transferred to the hastily-renamed and conveniently remote manor house which had belonged to the Lestrange family, where they were easily forgotten. It was not a fate either of them would want for a man they respected.

“We’ll work something out,” Andromeda said.

Harry returned before long, looking grim.

“Dreamless sleep,” he said flatly. “There’s a nearly empty bottle in the bedroom. It’s not labelled, looks like he made it himself. He has all the ingredients to make quite substantial quantities. And nothing much else. He doesn’t look like he’s doing much brewing, just the dreamless sleep and the Purvis’s pain potion he made for you.”

“You okay, Harry?”

Harry nodded, then sighed.

Lupin looked at the man who lay on his sofa, and tucked the blanket around him more closely.

“Oh Severus, what have you done to yourself?” he asked softly.



Harry, Andromeda and Lupin sat and watched Snape sleeping on the sofa. Finally Lupin spoke.

“I take it we all agree that we’re not letting him go to Asphodel Fields.”

“Absolutely not,” said Harry firmly. Seeing Neville’s distress after he had been there to see his parents, still surviving though their minds had been gone since the first war, Harry had offered to go with him. He hadn’t expect a positive response, but Neville had seized upon the offer with almost desperate gratitude. Now, every couple of months, he made the trip with Neville. They took turns reading interesting excerpts from the Daily Prophet and chatting about what they were doing as if Frank and Alice understood.

Making the regular visits had left Harry with a thorough distaste for the place. He was not going to see anyone else condemned there if he could help it, certainly not the man who had saved his life.

“If you were to take him to St Mungo’s for a consultation, and that was their recommendation, what do we do?” asked Lupin.

He looked closely at Andromeda. Caring for Snape would place a huge burden on the woman who was already caring for a baby and a broken werewolf. Most importantly, she would also need to keep Teddy safe if Snape’s behaviour was dangerous. And they all knew, from their experience with Harry, that it was likely to be.

Andromeda looked back at the scarred face in front of her. For some reason, her son-in-law had decided that Severus Snape needed his help. And she knew she would not deny him that.

In the months since her daughter’s death, Lupin had become more to Andromeda than her son-in-law. Having lost her husband and only child, he had become her closest family. When she had first visited the broken man at the Institute, she had done so only out of duty. But he had reached out and touched her in the depths of her grief.

The Institute was not designed for humans, and Lupin’s room had bars across the window, as if it was a cage or a cell. It contained a bed, a chair and a small table, with little space for anything else. But curtains had been hung to make it look less like he was living in a zoo, and there was a small vase of bright flowers on the table. The door was not locked.

Lupin lay on the bed looking utterly awful. The scar across his face was red and raw, and his skin had a distinctive blue-grey cast to it. He was still being treated with the Argyria potion to try and heal his bullet wounds. He was painfully thin, as the Argyria potion meant that he could hardly keep any food down.

He had smiled when he saw her, and she felt overwhelming guilt. She had known he was here for a month before she came.

“Andromeda, how lovely to see you.” He paused, the effort of speaking appearing to exhaust him.

She hadn’t known what to say, beyond “Hello”, so had just sat awkwardly on the chair beside his bed. In short, halting burst of speech, he had asked how she was, and how Teddy was, and accepted her dishonest answers – fine – without comment. He asked after a few colleagues, and sent his regards to a few mutual acquaintances, as if he hadn’t seen them due to his hectic social calendar. Instead of the fact that he was lying crippled and abandoned in a glorified veterinary hospital.

Until he asked her for a small favour.

“I’d love a photograph of Dora and Teddy. Perhaps if you have a copy of that one where their hair is changing together. Or any photo really, I just loved that one.”

She had a copy of the photo, of course. And it didn’t seem like much to ask. So, a few days later, she dropped by with the photo. He held it close to his face, the only way he could see it as his remaining eye was still very weak, and gave a small smile. Only then did he ask how Teddy was doing.

Andromeda was ashamed to admit that she hadn’t seen him for several weeks, so she just said, “he’s well.”

Lupin turned his eye to her. She didn’t think he could see her, but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

“He’s with Molly Weasley. She’s so good with children. He’s very placid. I’m sure he’s happy.”

She felt a cold dread inside her – he was going to ask why she didn’t have Teddy with her, was going to accuse her of abandoning him. She didn’t know how to explain the grief she felt when she looked at the boy – her dead husband’s eyes, her dead daughter’s smile and constantly changing hair. How, the night she had been told of Dora’s death, she had handed the boy over to Molly in relief, and had never asked to take him back. The baby needed a happy home, not a heartbroken old woman who could find little strength for anything but weeping.

But Lupin didn’t ask. Of course he didn’t. That would be impolite. Instead he spoke quietly.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love a more recent photo at some stage. They change so quickly at that age.”

It meant she would have to see the boy, but it didn’t seem like much to ask. She could manage that.

Over the weeks that followed, she had continued to visit Lupin. He had asked small favours, often involving Teddy, and she had been able to help him a little. It meant that she saw Teddy more and she found she didn’t mind. Lupin’s condition improved marginally, and on some days he was sitting up when she came to visit. She spoke to the young woman who was treating him – she supposed she was a healer – and heard that more improvement was expected, but that he would probably never walk. He would continue to live at the Institute – werewolves were now reclassified as beasts not beings, and the only way he could leave was to be classified as someone’s pet.

Then one day he asked a larger favour.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could bring Teddy here one day? Even just to the gardens, it’s nice out there. I could watch from a window if it would upset him to see me.”

Andromeda found herself agreeing immediately.

She had brought Teddy a few days later. At the sight of his father he had stared in confusion, but when Lupin spoke to him, he reached out a little hand. It had been close to three months, but he knew his father’s voice.

After that, Andromeda started to think about the family being together. Teddy was her grandson, and kind as the Weasleys were, it was unfair to just abandon him. And Lupin deserved better than life in an institution. She began visiting Teddy daily, and began the application process to own a werewolf. Filling out the forms disgusted her – she avoided ticking the optional spay/neuter box, the branding box and the collar box. Beside “transformation” she ticked the box for ADI – returning to the institute once a month seemed the least odious option – better than keeping a cage for him, or locking him in the basement with silver shackles. Beside “purpose of ownership” she wrote “son-in-law”. She wasn’t really sure what to say, but “protecting him from your bigotry” would probably not be appropriate. She signed the form to say she would ensure he took the Wolfsbane potion and was not allowed to roam unsupervised at any time.

It had been more work than she had imagined, caring for a baby and the still very ill Lupin. He could sit up in bed without her help, but that was about as much as he could manage. She brought him his meals in bed and levitated him into a chair to take him to the toilet. Once a week he still endured the Argyria treatment, which helped the healing of his arm and hip, but left him miserable. She would feed him mouthfuls of thin soup, then hold a bowl for him as it all came back up. She barely slept, as whenever he drifted off to sleep, the nightmares started.

Lupin, however, was not completely helpless. He asked Andromeda to help him write notes to various people, and had her little owl Athene hard at work with his correspondence. In response to his requests, there was a steady trickle of visitors, helping out here and there. Few had taken the initiative to visit him at the Institute, but she was surprised to find that they were willing to help when asked.

He particularly asked Harry for help. Andromeda didn’t understand why at the time, it would be many months before she began to understand the machinations of Lupin’s mind. Lupin could see those who were the most unhappy, the most desperate, those most in need of a purpose or meaning to their lives, and offered them the warmth that giving to others brought to the soul.

Harry had been living alone at Grimmaud Place, wallowing in his grief in much the same way Andromeda had, she realised. He was working hard to drive people away, reacting with hostility to those who asked how he was or tried to help. Andromeda knew that his friends were trying, because they talked to Lupin. Of course they did. Somehow people said things to the man that they would never say to someone else, that they never intended to say at all.

Lupin never asked Harry how he was, except in the most formulaic way.

“Hello Harry, how are you? It’s good to see you.”

Harry would say he was fine, and Lupin would ignore the blatant lie.

Lupin never asked Harry if he needed anything. He never asked Harry if he was sure he was okay. He never asked Harry if he needed to talk, or worse, told him that he should be talking about things. He never commented on how tired, haggard or miserable Harry looked, never offered any helpful suggestions. He just told Harry how much he appreciated his visits. He thanked Harry for making the effort to come. Sometimes he asked a small favour of him.

When Lupin asked Harry if he had a copy of a particular photo of the marauders, Andromeda suddenly understood what he was doing. For a few moments, she was angry. He was manipulating Harry, as he had manipulated her.

And then she realised what he had manipulated her into. Tired as she was, she felt alive again. She still felt the deep grief inside for her daughter and husband, but she was learning to live with it. When she held Teddy in her arms, she felt warm and calm. And when her grandson looked up at her with a smile of pure joy on his face, she actually felt happiness inside her as she smiled back. Yes, Lupin had manipulated her, he had manipulated her into accepting the help she needed.

She did wonder though, whether he might end up biting off more than he could chew with Snape. Many had been trying to help him now that he was viewed, at least by some, as a wounded war hero. However he’d shown an unerring ability to drive off those who attempted assistance.

But Andromeda’s face revealed no doubts.

“We bring him here,” she said.

“You sure?” Lupin asked.

Andromeda nodded.

“Remus, if you’re right about what’s wrong with him, then that’s the result of all those years spying. I know what it cost you to do that, how hard it was, but he was doing it a lot longer, through two wars. Dumbledore asked so much of him. I know that’s what you’re thinking too, aren’t you Remus?”

Lupin was silent for a moment. He had tried, and failed, to help the man before. He knew a lot more than they did about what Snape had endured, both for the Order, and before. He still felt guilty about his own contribution, and that of his friends. And he knew that what Snape had endured at the hands of the Gryffindors paled into insignificance compared to what he had endured at the hands of his own house, and his own family.

“I’d like to have him stay here if possible. If he needed to stay for a while at St Mungo’s, then I suppose that would be okay. But if he needs a safe place for a while, or even if he needed a home here, then I’d like to offer him that. But only if we can all agree.”

Andromeda and Lupin both looked at Harry.

“I say we try whatever we can. Professor Dumbledore would not have liked to see him like this, and would not have liked it if we abandoned him.”

“No, he would not,” agreed Lupin. Actually, Lupin wasn’t entirely sure. Dumbledore had asked more of Snape than he asked of anyone else. Lupin was quite sure he knew everything Lupin did about Snape’s past, and more. The way Lupin saw it, Snape’s decision to join the Death Eaters had been entirely understandable. Yet Dumbledore had held that decision over Snape for years and had surely asked him to repay any debt many times over.

“So we are agreed then?”

Harry and Andromeda nodded. Lupin continued.

“I suppose the first step is to see what happens when he wakes. Perhaps one of you could move him to the spare bed in my room. Teddy will be up in an hour or so, and we should keep them apart while Severus is unpredictable.”

Harry moved Snape to the spare bed, and left Lupin settling down in the chair beside him. He returned with a cup of tea. He handed it to Lupin and asked “do you want me to stay?”

“Weren’t you supposed to go and meet Ginny?”

Harry shrugged.

“She’d understand.”

“Maybe if you could wait an hour or so, see how things go. If I think we’ll be ok then, you go. We could always send a message if we needed you.”

Harry grabbed his own cup of tea and a spare chair. He wanted to do something, but wasn’t sure what. He didn’t like to recall his own withdrawal from the Dreamless Sleep potion. He remembered most of the first part, the physical symptoms, but less of the subsequent time. He’d hallucinated for days, images from the nightmares that the potion had suppressed. When he slept, it was as if every nightmare at once invaded his mind. Lupin had stayed with him patiently. Despite being ill and weak himself, Lupin had been there to calm Harry when he had nightmares, had woken him when he couldn’t be calmed and held him sobbing in his arms more times than Harry could recall. He still sometimes had nightmares, and now had no potion to drive them away. Lupin still kept two single beds in his room rather than one larger bed, so that Harry could creep into the spare bed when his nightmares were bad.

Snape didn’t sleep calmly for long. It was little more than half an hour before he awoke to find two sets of eyes on him. He pushed the blankets off himself and struggled upright.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“We live here, Severus,” Lupin said calmly.

Snape looked around him and failed to mask a look of confusion which crossed his face.

“Where am I, what’s happening?”

“You weren’t well, Severus. So we brought you here.”

“What? I don’t remember that. I certainly don’t remember agreeing. What the hell is this place?”

Snape got to his feet and looked out the window. There was nothing but countryside for miles.

“Where are we?”

“Devon, Severus. At our farmhouse. You know it, you’ve been coming here for months, you just have trouble with your memory sometimes. You’re very welcome to stay for a bit until you feel better.

“I’m fucking fine. And I don’t want to stay in this godforsaken hellhole with you and bloody Potter.”

Snape spat the words at them and stormed from the room. Harry took off after him, Lupin slower, relying on levitating himself in the chair. Although Andromeda tried to stop him, Snape marched out the front door in a sweep of robes worthy of his Hogwarts days.

“Severus,” Lupin called, “it’s really not a good idea to travel right now. You’re not well and could hurt yourself.”

But Snape apparated away.

“Fuck, what an idiot.”

Harry looked across at Lupin, surprised at both the language and tone. Lupin looked across at the lane where the anti-apparation wards ended, as if Snape might reappear, then turned to Harry and shook his head.

“I’m such an idiot. I had no idea he could apparate wandless, and it never crossed my mind to ward this place to keep him in.”

They assumed he’d go home, but Snape wasn’t there later that day or that evening. By the next morning they were seriously concerned and called St Mungo’s as well as checking a few locations around Knockturn Alley that wizards might end up if lost and unwell. When there was no sign, they returned home, knowing another approach was needed.

Andromeda and Harry began writing notes to people, and sent their owls out. Harry contacted Ginny, Ron and Hermione, asking them to contact a few people. For two days, they contacted everyone they could think of, but there was still no sign of the missing man.

“I think it’s most likely he’s somewhere among muggles. If he was around wizards, I think we would have heard. I don’t think he’s capable of deliberately hiding that well right now.”

They sat around the kitchen table, discussing the next steps.

“How on earth do we find him if he is?” Andromeda asked. “It took weeks last time and that was when he had a stable address”

“I have an idea,” said Lupin, a small smile on his face. “Harry, are you ready for a journey into the muggle world?”