Loose ends chapter 26 - Tuica

Lupin decided to remind Snape of the first time he met Harry with the help of Romanian plum brandy. Angst again. PG.

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

Tuica
After the visit to the Institute, Snape had been much improved. Instead of hiding in his room, morose and distant, he’d joined them at the table for meals, answered questions in more than monosyllables, and even began to take Grimmy into the garden for short sessions with the ball. When Teddy had approached him clutching Green eggs and ham and stated clearly, “Sevvy read book”, Snape had lifted the boy into his lap and read the book without complaint. He’d agreed to further visits to the Institute, watching Wormwood in the lab and even visiting the wolf garden, although he wasn’t yet willing to speak to anyone apart from Wormwood, Lucretia and Blossom. He allowed Lupin to leave him in the lab with Wormwood for short periods, and Lupin had been able to spend a little time with the werewolf children again, revising the magic he and Andromeda had been teaching them before Snape had arrived.

They had become used to the cooperative although timid Snape, one whose temper was limited to occasional snappiness and who showed no sign of the anger and bitterness that he had worn for years. He was still anxious, but it some time since they had seen Sevvy. Snape had even tolerated a couple of visits from Clarridge without repeating his previous dramatic performance.

And so Harry had become overconfident. He was unwise, without a doubt. Snape was much improved, but if he’d considered, Harry would have realised that they still needed to treat the former spy like a fragile object. Except when he was in the lab with Wormwood, Snape constantly looked to the werewolf for reassurance, and followed him from room to room around the house. In Lupin’s absence he was often completely silent, almost catatonic. At the full moon, he’d climbed into Lupin’s empty bed and had lain there all night. Harry doubted that he’d slept.

Lupin sighed. Harry was Harry, at times as thoughtless as his father, and Snape was Snape, lashing out whenever someone got close to touching one of the raw wounds he carried inside him. Had Harry thought before opening his mouth, he would have realised his questions would upset Snape. And had Snape paused before attacking Harry back, he might have remembered that his conditioned response – that notorious loathing of his best friend’s son – had been just another twist in Dumbledore’s convoluted scheme.

And so Lupin found himself holding a bottle of tuica, an unexpected gift from one of his vampire acquaintances which had arrived a few months ago. He hadn’t felt inclined to drink it, a splash of firewhiskey in his tea the usual extent of his alcohol consumption. But now it was just what he needed.

He placed the bottle on the table beside him and without a word to Snape, he poured a measure in each glass.

“Drink, Severus.”

It wasn’t an offer. Snape looked up with the defensive expression he’d worn most of the afternoon. He obviously knew he had upset Lupin – and the rest of the household – with his reaction when Harry asked him about Lily. The boy had yet to return from the Weasleys’, and it was uncertain just how long it would take to reverse the hexes. Lupin doubted Snape had intended to cast them – the man had looked startled enough when Harry had turned green, sprouted a seething mass of worms for hair and begun to scratch. Lupin remembered well Snape’s ability to perform multiple hexes at once, although it was unusual for it to be wandless. The last time he had seen that combination was when James, Sirius and Peter had cornered Snape, and Lupin had stood back pretending it wasn’t happening. All four marauders had been hit. The visible hexes were accompanied by another one as well – even less pleasant. The vile genital itch had persisted for days until Lupin found a way to reverse it.

Snape picked up the glass and sipped the clear liquid suspiciously. As it burned its way down his throat, he nearly choked.

“What the hell is this?” he gasped between coughs.

“Tuica, Severus”, Lupin replied in an innocent tone which drew a suspicious glare from Snape. “It’s Romanian – Vladimir sent it – he was one of the vampires I traded with. You and I drank it once while playing chess. I thought it might help you remember.”

“It doesn’t strike me as something that would help with either memory or strategy.”

“Perhaps not. You lost both games that time. But it was still a memorable evening.”

Anxiety flooded Snape’s face, and Lupin felt another twinge of concern. He did need to push Snape into remembering something he’d obviously buried very deep, but it would be easy to push the man too far.

“It’s alright, Severus. I’m not trying to get you drunk. It’s just a reminder, like the curry was. I thought we could have a drink and try a game of chess.”

Lupin moved the bottle from the table, remembering that it had been a mistake to leave it in easy reach last time. He did mean it to be just a reminder – he didn’t want to be cleaning up broken glass while a blind drunk Snape lay unconscious on his bedroom floor again. He summoned the chess set and began setting up the pieces.

“Let’s just see what you remember, alright?”

Snape picked up a piece and held it in his hand. He looked down briefly then returned his gaze to Lupin, before giving a slow nod.

Lupin couldn’t say how he knew something was bothering Snape that day eight, or was it nine, years ago, but he had a feeling. Perhaps it was his wolf’s senses, because Snape’s expression surely betrayed nothing to Lupin’s human mind but his disgust that he had to deal with the werewolf. Snape had taken the vial of Vampire’s venom that Lupin had brought back from Romania, paid Lupin the remaining Galleons he owed, and then walked towards the door without a further word. But Lupin couldn’t dismiss the feeling that Snape wanted, or needed, something more from him.

And so Lupin had brought out the tuica.

“Why don’t you stay and join me for a drink and a game of chess, Severus. It’s been a difficult trip, and I could do with some company to distract me. And the vampires gave me this. I got rather fond of it when I was over there.”

Snape had sneered at the pathetic desperation of the werewolf, that he was actually asking for the company of someone who loathed him, but he had deigned to stay, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the one decent chair and wrinkling his nose at the fiery Romanian liquor. They had played one game of chess, then began another, while Snape continued to help himself from the bottle Lupin left on the table, sneering and criticising all the while.

Finally, after losing his second game by a significantly larger margin than the first, Snape had stood up to leave, and had promptly half-fallen back down.

Lupin had grinned at him.

“Are you deliberately trying to get me drunk?” Snape had responded, bristling at Lupin’s amusement.

“You seem to be managing that quite successfully yourself, Severus.”

“Fuck off, werewolf.”

Snape had stood again, more carefully, not falling this time. He stalked to the door and then stopped. He leaned his hand on the doorframe and his head dropped forward against the smooth wood. After a few moments of silence, he turned to face Lupin, his mask suddenly gone. He looked tired and sad.

“Harry Potter started at Hogwarts this term.”

“Oh,” Lupin responded. “What’s he like? I haven’t seen him since he was four, when they told me I’d go to Azkaban if I sneaked past the wards to see him again.”

“Looks just like his bloody father,” Snape snarled in response. Then, more softly, “except for his eyes. He has Lily’s eyes. Only…”

Snape’s face darkened, and Lupin could see the pain there.

“They are Lily’s eyes, but she never had that look in them. It’s not the look of a happy child. Lily was so bright and open, but Harry’s like…”

Lupin kept his mouth closed. He knew what Snape meant, but saying “like you, Severus” or even “like us” was likely to earn him a hexing. And so he simply watched in silence.

“He’s like… it’s like he’s lost, really. So pathetically grateful to be at Hogwarts where people give him a bit of attention.”

Snape sneered at Lupin, as if he was angry that the man sat calmly listening, then stalked back across the room to pour himself another large drink. He gulped the lot and flopped back into the chair, and Lupin realised he was stuck with him for the night. Snape was not going to get safely back to Hogwarts with that much alcohol in his system.

Snape looked angrily at the bottom of his glass, finding it empty again, and grabbed the bottle. He refilled the glass, swallowed another mouthful and then sat staring at it for several minutes before he took the next sip. Lupin watched the ghosts of emotion flicker across Snape’s face, and stayed silent. It seemed as if he was trying to compose himself, trying to find a way to say something, and Lupin knew that interruption would not draw it from him.

When Snape found his glass empty he grabbed the bottle again, as if to refill his glass, before he changed his mind and drank directly from the bottle, swallowing several large mouthfuls. Then he went on, his voice hoarse from the burning of the liquor. And perhaps because he was fighting back tears.

“I have to be horrible to him. We have to hate each other, apparently. As part of Dumbledore’s Grand Plan.”

Snape looked directly at Lupin suddenly, his eyes almost pleading, although for what, Lupin had no idea. Then he raised the bottle to his lips again, leaving little more than a few sips remaining.

“I couldn’t change his mind. I tried. Why do I have to be an enemy to the boy, to my friend’s son? How does it make sense to take a wounded child like that and bully him more. It’s just not fair. And it surely can’t turn out well.”

As if he realised what he was saying, Snape’s face suddenly became angry again, and he flung the glass he held across the room, where it shattered against the stone wall of the cottage. He looked at the bottle, realising there was still some left, and drained it before sending it to follow the glass. He attempted to rise once again to leave but instead fell forwards onto the floor.

“S’not fair, s’not fair,” he slurred, as Lupin struggled to help him to his feet. Then he had vomited over Lupin, said “m’sorry” in a small, sad voice, and passed out.

Cursing that he no longer kept supplies of sobriety and hangover potions, Lupin grabbed his wand and vanished the mess of vomit from his clothes, before levitating the unconscious man through to his bedroom floor. He stripped off his own clothes, which still smelled despite the cleaning spell, and changed into pyjamas before stripping Snape of his robe, removing his shoes and covering him with a blanket. Returning to the other room, he vanished the shattered glass before returning to his room and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was far too wound up and sober to sleep after those revelations, and had watched the unconscious man lying on his side beside the bed for a long time before he finally lay down and slept.

A thoroughly hungover Snape had risen at dawn and sloped off before Lupin was fully conscious. He’d never mentioned the night, or his regrets about his relationship with Harry, again. There was never any sign, in all the years of Harry’s schooling, that Snape felt anything but loathing for the boy. But the spy had done his job now, and perhaps now it was time for the friendship that Snape had clearly once wanted to have with Harry.

Chess and tuica proved a partial success. Snape had remembered the basics of chess, even if his skills were rusty and he was no match for Lupin.

“Well, I was Gryffindor’s chess champion four times, Severus. You can’t expect to beat me right away.”

“That’s hardly a great feat, Lupin. Since when were Gryffindors any good at chess? It requires strategy. It’s a game of stealth, not reckless risk-taking.”

Lupin raised his eyebrow and acknowledged Snape’s comment. It was true that he’d always practiced with the Ravenclaws.

“Well yes. It wasn’t the stiffest competition.”

“Like Hufflepuff poker champion?”

“I don’t remember us having house poker tournaments…” Lupin’s voice tailed off as he saw the faint quirk of Snape’s lip that indicated amusement. “Oh, yes, sorry. Actually, there were some muggleborn boys a couple of years ahead who were poker players, and we did play a bit. James was hopeless, as you’d expect, Sirius not much better. Peter was okay, but then he… well… he did turn out…”

Snape was suddenly looking intently at him, and Lupin realised that this was the first time he had mentioned his school friends in all the time Snape had been staying. The man was hardly going to welcome hearing about his old enemies.

“I’m sorry, Severus, it wasn’t my intention to drag up memories of the marauders.”

Snape shook his head.

“It’s not like I’ve lost track of those memories anyway. I realise… I’ve always wondered… how did you not know Pettigrew was a traitor? Why did Potter and Lily trust him so much?”

Lupin gave a sad sigh.

“Things were not what they had been between us. We were so close at school, but when we had to face the outside world, reality hit us. James continued to sail his way through life. His parents always gave him everything he wanted as a child, and as a young man his money and charisma continued to bring the same. Until the prophecy, I don’t think anything ever really stood in his way. Despite this, he had a generous heart, and always shared his good fortune with us, but… well, he just didn’t understand sometimes. Sirius found it especially hard. His family cut him off and he had to survive without their wealth. Up to a point, he could accept help from James, but it began to grate. Sirius had a tendency to lash out rather indiscriminately when he felt cornered, as you experienced yourself. He was starting to self-destruct I think. At times he was the fiercely loyal friend he had been when younger. Other times… he was hard to be around, unless you were prepared to take a fair bit of… difficult behaviour.”

“And Potter wasn’t?”

“Nor Lily, and nor Peter. I… well… I’m fairly tolerant.”

“Spineless, Lupin, you were spineless.”

Lupin looked up at Snape, surprised at the venom in his voice.

“I don’t see that standing by a friend who is difficult because they are hurting is spineless, Severus,” Lupin replied, a hard edge to his voice. “There were times, at school, that I accept I was, but you did say you’d forgiven me for that.”

Snape blinked slowly.

“You’re right Lupin, I did. I’m afraid I find the others harder to forgive, and… old habits die hard, I suppose. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, Severus.”

“So that tells me why Potter didn’t entirely trust Black, but why Pettigrew? Why not you?”

“James and Peter were quite alike in some ways. Both had been terribly spoiled by their parents. Peter had three older sisters, he was both the youngest child and the only boy. Like James, he’d been brought up to accept life would be handed to him on a plate, and since his family was also fairly wealthy, it was, to some extent. I think that James and Peter became closer as things became difficult with Sirius.”

Lupin paused and looked across at Snape. It hadn’t been his intention to relive his own painful memories over chess and tuica. It was unlikely to help the troubled man who sat before him. It wouldn’t help Lupin either. He’d contemplated asking Dumbledore to oblivate him of the memories of those months, of the reason that James and Lily hadn’t trusted him. He certainly didn’t want to enlighten Snape. With a deep breath, he readied himself to move the conversation away from the dangerous topic, without running from the room and without downing the tempting bottle of tuica which sat on the shelf, an easy accio away.

“I think that Peter was different from James in some crucial ways. Peter was not charming or charismatic, and he didn’t have a generous heart. He wasn’t inclined to share what he had and when others had what he didn’t, he resented them. He resented me for doing better than him at school, resented Sirius for his looks, and I suspect he resented James for the way people were drawn to him. But he masked it well, and James wasn’t… well, he tended to see the obvious in people. Harry’s the same, I think. Impulsive in good and bad ways, with a generous heart. He has more compassion and understanding than James – perhaps that’s Lily in him, or perhaps it’s that he’s never had life easy. But he doesn’t tend to see past the masks people wear.”

Lupin watched Snape as he spoke. The dark eyes that watched back were searching him for something. His heart was suddenly beating hard against his ribs, and Lupin readied himself for a potential intrusion into his mind. Snape hadn’t tried that in the time that he’d being staying – perhaps he was unable to now – but even the possibility left Lupin terrified.

Then Snape’s forehead wrinkled in the anxious way he had when a memory was just out of reach. Lupin felt his own anxiety fade as he realised that the intense expression was Snape struggling with his own mind.

“Severus? Do you remember the last time we drank tuica and played chess? I’d been to Romania and brought you back vampire’s venom.”

Snape gave another of his slow nods.

“I think so. You… asked me to stay and play chess. Merlin knows why you wanted my company, you must have been desperate.”

“Actually, Severus, I asked you because I got the impression you needed company. I think… well, Harry had just started at Hogwarts. You weren’t too happy.”

Snape looked down at the bunch of robe he had clutched in his hand.

“I’m sure I was just delighted to see the face of one of my childhood tormentors sitting in my classroom,” he said.

“Is that what you remember?”

Snape gave a shake of his head.

“I don’t… it’s a bit mixed up. I remember being angry.”

“Do you remember what you were angry about? Who you were angry at?”

Snape gave another shake of his head.

“Well, do you remember what you thought when you first saw Harry?”

Snape sat unmoving and Lupin reached his hand across to a hunched shoulder.

Another shake.

“That’s ok, Severus. We know it will take some time. Do you want to go back to the evening where we played chess.”

“No… I just want to…”

Snape reached for the glass and took another sip of tuica. Lupin sat back again, giving him space as he fought through the tangle and confusion. He watched the way Snape swirled the liquid around in his glass, sniffing it occasionally and furrowing his brow in concentration.

“I remember… I…oh, fuck.”

“Severus?”

“I remember his eyes. Lily’s eyes, only not Lily’s eyes. So…watchful. Wounded.”

Lupin remained silent, watching the slow process as Snape’s memories were uncovered and reordered.

“I had hoped that… as Lily’s son… as I was his teacher, I might be able to…”

Snape shook his head, this time in frustration.

“When Albus told me what I was to do, I couldn’t believe it. I tried to change his mind but he was adamant, and I never defied him. But when I saw Harry…” Snape’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I saw myself. That wary look, the temper, the quiet desperation underneath… I couldn’t stand to be his enemy so I went back to Albus.”

Both of Snape’s hands were now wrapped around his glass, gripping it tightly. His dark eyes looked up at Lupin through a curtain of hair.

“I tried to change his mind. I tried reasoning, arguing… I begged. I went to him and I begged, but Albus was … he… he never listened to me. What I wanted never counted. I worshipped him and loved him more than I loved my own parents, and he… I still don’t know whether he ever actually cared about me.”

Snape’s voice caught in his throat, and Lupin reached his hand out to take the glass away. After placing the glass on the table, he reached out again and took Snape’s hand.

“And as for you… “

Snape looked up, his face sneering, but his hand gripping Lupin’s almost hard enough to crush it.

“When you came to the school…I was so jealous of you. Harry worshipped you from the start, you got to play the hero, you talked to him about his parents, and you were so much better at it than I ever would have been. It made me so jealous, so… bitter. Just the sight of you… and then you went and screwed it all up and I was so angry, so fucking angry…”

Snape’s body began to tremble with emotion. Lupin hauled himself from his chair and shuffled across to where Snape sat. He extracted his hand from Snape’s, leaned uncomfortably on the side of his chair and draped his hand over Snape’s back.

“Severus…”

“Albus was angry enough over the essay I set, but after I… I… he was absolutely furious with me. He was seldom angry, but when he was… he never raised his voice, but he was so cold. He reminded me what he could do to me, that I would be nothing without him, that he knew everything I’d done as a death eater, if he withdrew his support for me I could still be prosecuted for my role in the first war, end up in Azkaban…”

Snape’s voice caught again and he began to cry. Lupin was silent, his hand gently rubbing the heaving back.

“I’m sorry, Lupin… I’m sorry.”

Snape leaned awkwardly in to Lupin’s body, although he succeeded only in resting his head on Lupin’s hip, inappropriately close to the man’s groin, as Sevvy had sometimes inadvertently done. Lupin twisted away and Snape realised what he was doing. He fought to get his breathing under control, then stood up from the chair, offering his hand to Lupin.

“Come on, before you fall.”

Lupin took the offered hand and let himself be helped to the sofa. Snape sat beside him, reluctant to let the hand go, still clinging for comfort. They sat in silence while Snape got his tears under control and Lupin contemplated the depths of despair that Snape must have suffered in those years. He could well remember the way that Dumbledore would occasionally remind him of the difficulties he faced as a werewolf, how, without attending Hogwarts, he’d have faced a life of ignorance and lawlessness, how he’d protected him when he’d almost killed Snape, given him work when nobody would employ him. He remembered the subtle way he’d create a sense of obligation and then ensure he’d get back what he’d given, and more. And Snape didn’t expect any better, didn’t expect anyone to treat him well without extracting something in return.

“You know, Severus, there’s nothing to be done about the past, but there’s still something that can be done about the future. Despite everything, Harry doesn’t hate you. I have no doubt that he did, when he was younger. As he was supposed to, according to Dumbledore’s Grand Plan. But he understands now how you were both manipulated into the situation, and he appreciates the magnitude of what you did for him. You still have a chance to have the relationship you once wanted with him.”

“He’s hardly going to forgive me after today.”

“Perhaps not right away. But even if you intended to hex him – and I don’t know that you really did – he will get over it. Just because you and his mother were both masters at holding on to grudges far beyond all reason, it doesn’t mean Harry’s like that."

Lupin watched as Snape’s posture instantly became defensive. He snatched his hand away, wrapped his arms around himself and leaned back from Lupin, watching warily.

“What do you mean?” he snapped.

“It’s one of the nicer ways Harry takes after James. His temper flares then it’s gone. He does sometimes fall out with people, unsurprising given his mouth, but he’ll put things right too. He knows how to apologise and to forgive.”

“I mean, what did you mean about Lily?”

“You know this already, deep down. You must. She was a wonderful woman but Lily’s flaw was that she had a long memory. You should have heard her when she fought with James – every past transgression came out, even back to how he had treated you in first year. James, on the other hand, did let things go, and Harry at least has that side of his personality. He’s forgiven you, Severus, and he cares a lot for you. I think he’d very much like to be friends with you. He just may not know the best way to go about it.”

Snape had dropped his head, avoiding Lupin’s eye again.

“I drove her away. I intended to. I didn’t want her to get the attention of my… acquaintances. If it worked, I can hardly complain.”

Lupin patted his arm and didn’t push him. Snape’s loyalty to Lily ran even deeper than his loyalty to Dumbledore. There was still some way to go, Lupin suspected, before Snape would be willing to recognise Lily’s faults.

“How about I owl the Weasleys and see how Harry is. I’ll tell him that you are ready to apologise when he’s ready to hear it.”

“Why don’t you firecall them? I’ve noticed you don’t seem to use it at all, nor the floo.”

Remus shook his head.

“There are certain rules regarding werewolves and their… habitations. Among them, no floo connection. Unfortunately that’s not a law that’s easy to get around. Andromeda’s had to make a lot of sacrifices to have me here.”

Snape was still for a few moments, then gave a slow nod.

“Maybe send Moros, he’s utterly bored and I think he’s fretting. He doesn’t usually, but lately he’s been in an odd mood.”

“He’d probably be happier if Clarridge wrote to you a bit more often. How about you write a quick note to Clarridge while I get Andromeda to write a note to Molly and Arthur.”

“What are you on about? Why would I write to Clarridge?”

“Just write anything. Just tell him that Moros needed the exercise if you like.”

Lupin watched as Snape puzzled at his suggestion. After watching the eyebrows draw together in confusion for a good while, Lupin finally let him off the hook.

“I think Moros rather enjoys it when Matahari visits. I doubt he meets many other stealth owls. Especially not female ones.”

“Oh… oh, I see.”

“It would be wonderful if they had a clutch. Just imagine, baby stealth owls. They’re so sweet. My father bred stealth owls for the Ministry, you know.”

Snape looked slightly startled at the thought of his beloved owl with a girlfriend and babies.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s illegal enough to have an unregistered one. I can’t imagine how illegal it would be to breed from them.”

“Oh, horribly illegal. But as long as nobody from the Ministry finds out…”

“Harry’s a trainee auror,” Snape replied, sounding shocked.

“A trainee auror with a healthy suspicion of authority. He’d never tell.”

Lupin summoned quill and parchment for Snape, and called Andromeda to write to the Weasleys. Moros did indeed seem delighted at his mission.

“Make sure you deliver this one first,” Lupin said, holding the letter for the Weasleys, “but there’s no need to hurry back when you are finished.”

Moros ruffled his feathers and shimmered a wave of colour down his glossy, black body, before heading out the window.