Loose ends chapter eight - Hospital
Feb. 11th, 2017 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coriaria8. Hospital
Lupin prepares to rescue Snape from muggles, with the help of some famous West Indian cricketers. PG. Angst, mental illness, swearing.
This is a work of fan fiction. All recognisable characters are the work of J.K. Rowling, apart from those from Dr. Seuss, and the West Indian cricket players, who are real people. I make no profit from this etc.
Clarridge insisted on taking his car, pointing out that they couldn’t arrive faster than a car journey would take anyway. Harry settled down in the back seat and listened to the easy chat between Clarridge and Lupin as they caught up on several years of news. They’d obviously known each other a long time.
After a while, Harry noticed that Lupin had turned the conversation around to Snape.
“I’m afraid it never crossed my mind to ask this before, but did you know him as a child, Clarridge?”
“Not well, Eileen wasn’t particularly welcome at Prince family gatherings, and I was a few years older anyway. But she did turn up sometimes, and bring him along. Odd child.”
Lupin was silent, letting Clarridge speak at his own pace.
“Well, troubled child, I suppose. He was very quiet, very timid, around adults, although I occasionally saw him get very clingy if someone was nice to him. With children, he didn’t seem to know what to do, how to play. He’d get upset by things, and then either get very angry or run away and hide. And his language was horrible. I went to a muggle comprehensive school and didn’t hear swearing like that.
“I got to know him a bit though. Being a half-blood wasn’t quite as shameful as being a squib, but combine that with the difficult behaviour, and he was as much of an outcast as me. If there was a cat or a dog around, he preferred to be with them anyway, and I had a little terrier called Nipper. Aptly-named, he was, but he liked Severus. He would save food for Nipper. He was a skinny kid, and always looked like he needed a decent meal. I thought it was rather sweet that he gave up some of his own meal for my dog. I used to call him Sevvy.”
“I did notice he likes animals, although he’d probably deny it.”
“Yes, he’s a contrary bastard. He got control of that temper as he got older, too much control if you ask me, all that occlumency. After he moved to his grandparents he became very sullen and withdrawn, but by then I was barely in contact with my family, so I saw very little of him. I got sick of the looks of shame and pity. I could see they’d rather pretend I didn’t exist.”
Lupin was silent, turning to look out of the car window. Harry noticed his left hand, which had dropped into the gap between the seat and the door, was clenched into a fist. Something in what Clarridge said had bothered Lupin, although Harry had no idea what.
“At the start the first war, I broke contact with my family completely and I think he did too, so I didn’t see him for years.
“After the war ended, I heard a bit about him through various sources. I heard he was teaching at Hogwarts, and I also heard – although it was a quiet rumour – that he’d been a death eater. In a family that produced so many aurors, that was an appalling scandal, although given how he was treated by the family, I couldn’t blame him for joining the other side. So I tracked him down – thought we might be family rejects together. And I’d always wanted to see Hogwarts. I can’t say he was delighted to see me, but he deigned to accept a dinner invitation now and again. The first time he came he insulted Nita’s cooking as being “too foreign” and threatened to transfigure the children into toads if they were naughty. However he later ruined the attempt to be intimidating by being the only relative on my side of the family to remember their birthdays. He’d send sweets from Honeydukes every time, and at Christmas.
“My family rather grew to like him in the end. He developed quite a fondness for curry, and Nita actually taught him to make some of her mother’s recipes. He loved all the spices, said it was like brewing potions. The cat always insisted on sitting on his lap and covering those awful black robes with ginger fur. The children pretended to be terrified of him, then tried to outdo eachother in who could be naughtiest so they’d get to be the toad. Poor Severus, he never did understand the concept with children that you encourage and reward good behaviour, and discourage the bad. I don’t suppose he experienced that himself. I have no idea how he survived as a teacher – he never made it clear whether they were terrified by the all the glaring and sneering, or whether they saw straight through it and terrorised him.”
He flicked a glance back at Harry, who avoided his gaze. He found the man’s perspective on former teacher, and former enemy, disturbing.
Lupin made a slightly strangled sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
“More of the former,” Lupin said, diverting what he thought might be a rather awkward discussion. “My son’s rather fond of him though. He’s not intimidated at all. In fact he’s got Severus wrapped around his little finger, reading him stories whenever he demands it. I tell you, hearing “Green eggs and ham” or “Fox in socks” in that lovely voice of his is quite something.”
“You have a son? When did that happen?”
Once Lupin was onto the subject of Teddy, there was no stopping him. Harry noticed though, that he carefully avoided any mention of the boy’s mother, and that Clarridge never asked.
The hospital was not what Harry expected, with bright blue paint and trees, sprawled on the edge of a large park. It was busy too, the carpark full, and Harry began to feel anxious. Facing muggle inconveniences reminded him of life with his aunt and uncle. Clarridge dropped them near the main entrance and handed Lupin a cellphone.
“Text me when you are ready for me to pick you up, or if you need me to come in. You do remember how to send a text?”
Lupin fiddled with the phone.
“I think so. Yes, got it.”
“What about you Harry? Know how to text?”
Harry shook his head and Clarridge laughed.
“Now that’s something you don’t see often, a nineteen-year-old who can’t use a cellphone.”
He pressed a button and the car window raised, and he drove off to negotiate the late afternoon traffic. Harry looked after him curiously. He hadn’t mentioned his age.
“He’s no fool, Harry. He knows perfectly well who you are. He’s just being polite by not mentioning it.”
“So he’s a squib?”
“Yes, a squib from one of the more ancient and proud pureblood families. He hasn’t had an easy time of it. But he’s made the best of things. Uses his connections in both worlds to help both wizards and muggles when their worlds cross over.”
“Like rescuing wizards from mental hospitals. You’ve obviously done this with him before.”
“Yes, well I’ve done many things Harry. Most regular jobs aren’t available to… people like me, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who will overlook certain – er – undesirable traits in someone who can do a difficult or unpleasant job discreetly. A squib and a werewolf, we worked together a bit. I figured I owed him honesty, and he was completely unfazed. He’s a good man, Harry, and I’m glad he’s looking out for Severus.
“Now, before we go in, I need to make sure you have the story straight. I want you to say as little as possible, but you may be asked.
“I’ve told the staff here that he is my brother-in-law and I’m bringing his son – that’s you – and possibly his brother – Clarridge – with me. The background story is that your mother, my sister, is dead. You’ve lived with me since you were nine since he’s obviously not fit, as a schizophrenic who regularly stops taking his medication. I’ve been in the chair two years, after a car accident. Don’t answer any questions that want more detail than that, just look shy and embarrassed and let me answer. I’ll discourage them from being too nosy.”
Harry watched this different Lupin, focused, intense, direct. He’d seen him like this occasionally as a teacher, more often during the war, but never since. This was the man who’d survived all those years with no official job, a dark secret and nobody to look out for him. And yet he had never given up, had never joined the truly outcast, had never become embittered.
“Have you got that Harry?”
“Yes.”
“And our names?”
“I’m Harry Prince. He’s Stephen Prince. You’re John Howell. If Clarridge comes in, he’s Charlie Prince.”
“Correct. Suitably innocuous. Remus or Clarridge we might get away with, but Remus, Clarridge and Severus would be much too memorable.”
“What if he’s given them his name already?”
“He’s schizophrenic. Off his medication. Having a psychotic episode. He can say absolutely anything and not raise their suspicion.
“One other thing, I may need you to help cast some confusion spells if they get suspicious or won’t let us take him. Put your wand in the pocket on the back of my chair, I’ve got mine, down by my left leg where I can get it easily. Don’t do any magic unless I tell you. I’d prefer not to oblivate anyone.”
Harry looked at Lupin’s face closely. What he was suggesting was quite illegal. And he clearly meant it.
Harry pushed Lupin’s chair up the ramp, and into a reception area. Lupin gave his innocuous false name, and a man wearing pale blue with a name badge that said Garfield came to speak to them.
Lupin introduced himself and Harry, and handed the man some documents that he and Clarridge had prepared with well-practiced efficiency.
“Garfield,” Lupin said thoughtfully. “Your parents cricket fans?”
The man looked up from the papers Lupin had given him.
“Oh, yes,” he replied with a nod and a toothy grin. “My brother is named after Frank Worrell. He got the better name, but I got the better cricketer.”
Garfield and Lupin shared a smile and the papers received no more attention.
“Do you think Brian Lara will exceed him?” Lupin continued.
“Maybe, but my father will never agree.”
“Not even after that innings in Bridgetown?”
“Ah, well, that was almost enough to change his mind.”
Garfield smiled as if his mind was far away, then dragged his attention back to the present.
“So, your brother-in-law,” Garfield said, professional again. “I’m afraid he was agitated and aggressive when he was brought in, we had to sedate him. We’ve kept that up, as every time it started wearing off, he became agitated again. He was due for more sedative soon after you rang, so we held off on that. Thought we’d see how it went with you. So he’ll be a bit more alert than he has been for the last few days.”
“Thank you,” Lupin responded. “I think he may be a bit better with us here. Then again, maybe he won’t.”
The nurse gave Lupin a sympathetic half-smile, and continued his explanation.
“He was showing some signs of drug withdrawal on arrival – you mentioned he may have been taking something. We haven’t been able to work out what it was, although the sedatives seem to have reduced the symptoms. He’s also shown signs of tremors, almost like convulsions – is that a side effect?”
“He was on Haldol for some time when he was younger, there seems to be some permanent damage. I think that’s partly why it’s so hard to get him to stay taking his medication now.”
The nurse nodded, clearly finding Lupin entirely credible. He led them through a bright lounge where blank-faced men stared out of the window or muttered to themselves. They walked along to a wide corridor, with Harry pushing the Lupin’s chair, then passed a sign saying “Bluebell Ward”. Lupin and Garfield continued their conversation about cricket, Garfield’s family and the genius of Sir Garfield Sobers. Harry learned rather a lot about the cricket mad Barbadian, while Lupin revealed nothing about himself or Harry, apart from the fact that Harry had, to Lupin’s great regret, no interest in cricket. Harry realised that he was watching a master at work.
Eventually, they came to a room, dimly lit, where a man lay curled on the bed, his back to the wall. The nurse stood beside the man, who shielded his head with his arm.
“Mr Prince, your brother-in-law and son are here to see you.”
A pair of dazed eyes stared at the wall opposite the bed. This was undoubtedly Snape, but as they had never seen him. He wore a grimy white t-shirt and grey trackpants. His hair was damp and clinging to his face and neck. He was unshaven, and there was dried saliva around his mouth. Lupin moved his chair alongside and placed a hand on his arm cautiously.
“How are you doing?”
Snape was silent, staring fixedly ahead. Lupin rubbed his arm gently, saying nothing. Eventually, the eyes shifted to Lupin.
“I want to go home.”
His words slurred slightly.
“Well, that might not be quite possible right now. But I’m seeing about you coming to stay with Harry and me for a bit. Do you think that would be okay?”
Snape looked up at Lupin, then away. He sighed.
“Okay,” he replied eventually.
“Right then, we’ll get things sorted.”
Lupin turned to the nurse and said, “Would it be at all possible to speak to the doctor who has been treating him?”
Garfield replied “of course” and walked off. Lupin continued to sit beside Snape, hand resting on his arm.
When the doctor arrived, Lupin and Garfield retreated to the corridor and talked with him while Harry stood beside Snape. He really wasn’t sure what to do or say. He was supposed to pretend this man was his father though. He sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“It will be okay,” he said.
“Fuck off, Potter,” Snape muttered in response.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but left his hand on the shoulder. Snape really wasn’t going to make this easy.
Lupin returned to the room, looking pleased.
“We’ve brought a change of clothes.” Lupin turned to the Garfield. “Could we get him dressed please?”
He nodded.
“That’s quite the scar he’s got. I take it the tattoo removal wasn’t a professional job,” Garfield commented.
“Yes, there’s quite a story behind that,” Lupin replied, in a tone which clearly said he wasn’t particularly keen on sharing that story.
“When he was brought in, it was like he thought the scar was talking to him. He kept clutching at it and saying he was being called. He was very anxious about it, he kept saying he was being called and had to go. That’s the main reason he had to be sedated.”
Lupin sighed and then nodded.
“He used to believe it was communicating with him, or that there were… forces communicating with him through the tattoo. Eventually he… got rid of it. But of course that didn’t really fix things.”
“I see. He’s got a lot of scars, I noticed.”
“Yes, well, he hasn’t had the best life. Schizophrenia is just a part of it. There’s an intelligent and good man in there somewhere, but he’s had the odds stacked against him.”
Lupin’s hand had moved to Snape’s shoulder in a gesture that was almost protective.
Garfield gave a sigh.
“Well I’m glad to see he’s got some people standing by him. I do see people in here who don’t.”
Garfield patted Harry on the back and left the room, pulling the door closed after him. Harry’s eyes flicked again to Lupin once again as he thought about just how easily the werewolf blended the lies in with the truth. He wondered just how many times Lupin had done this.
“Severus, do you think you can sit up?” Lupin asked.
Snape hauled himself to a seated position on the bed. As he moved, the smell of his unwashed body became more apparent.
“When we get home, you’re going in the bath,” Lupin said. “Now, can you take the t-shirt off please.”
Snape glared at Lupin, but complied. He moved slowly, struggling to coordinate his movements, and Lupin nodded to Harry to help him lift the shirt over his head. Lupin produced a black shirt from the bag hanging over the back of his chair and passed it to Harry, who guided his arms into the sleeves. Snape pulled away and did up the buttons, mismatching them so there was a button spare at the bottom, and a buttonhole at the top. Harry motioned to help but Lupin stopped him.
“It will do Harry.”
Lupin pulled out a pair of trousers, also black, then socks and shoes. Snape got to his feet, assisted by Harry. His head hung forward, face covered by a curtain of lank hair. Harry dressed him as he might help a child, Snape following instructions to lift his foot, or sit down as if under the Imperius curse.
Once he was dressed in his characteristic black, Snape somehow looked better, perhaps a little happier. As they left the room, Garfield raised an eyebrow at the crooked buttons, and Lupin gave him a smile.
Outside the hospital, Snape sat on a bench while Lupin texted Clarridge to pick them up. Snape slouched forward, hair hanging around him, flinching at the bright sun as if he’d been in the dark for weeks.
A lone pigeon pecked at the ground near them, walking back and forth and occasionally looking at them hopefully.
“I’ve got nothing for you, sorry,” said Harry.
The bird looked at him intently, almost as if it understood.
Lupin looked up from his phone.
“Hang on, Harry”, he said. “Are you sure that’s a pigeon?”
“Um…I’m pretty sure I know what a pigeon looks like.”
Lupin put a hand on Snape’s shoulder.
“Severus? Is that Moros?”
Snape looked up at Lupin, his face confused. Lupin gestured to the pigeon, who was now pecking near his feet. Snape stared hard, clearly struggling to remember or understand.
Lupin leaned down from his chair and held out his arm to the bird.
“Moros, Moros, come here.”
The pigeon looked directly at Lupin, then hopped onto his arm, hooting gently. Lupin gave his neck a scratch, then handed him to Snape. The bird transformed back into an owl, and tucked itself against Snape’s chest contentedly. When Clarridge arrived with the car, Snape was gently stroking the owl, his face finally relaxed.
Clarridge drove them to a carpark behind an empty building and said goodbye.
“I’ll send you an owl, and come and see you when I can. It’s not so easy for me to get to Devon.”
“We can send a portkey, it should work for you. It would be wonderful to see you and for you to meet Teddy.”
“Well then, lovely to meet you Harry, and lovely to reassure myself that you’re not actually dead Remus. Take care of Severus… and you,” he reached his hand across to the back seat and patted Snape’s knee, “try not to be a complete arsehole for them, eh?”
Lupin prepares to rescue Snape from muggles, with the help of some famous West Indian cricketers. PG. Angst, mental illness, swearing.
This is a work of fan fiction. All recognisable characters are the work of J.K. Rowling, apart from those from Dr. Seuss, and the West Indian cricket players, who are real people. I make no profit from this etc.
Clarridge insisted on taking his car, pointing out that they couldn’t arrive faster than a car journey would take anyway. Harry settled down in the back seat and listened to the easy chat between Clarridge and Lupin as they caught up on several years of news. They’d obviously known each other a long time.
After a while, Harry noticed that Lupin had turned the conversation around to Snape.
“I’m afraid it never crossed my mind to ask this before, but did you know him as a child, Clarridge?”
“Not well, Eileen wasn’t particularly welcome at Prince family gatherings, and I was a few years older anyway. But she did turn up sometimes, and bring him along. Odd child.”
Lupin was silent, letting Clarridge speak at his own pace.
“Well, troubled child, I suppose. He was very quiet, very timid, around adults, although I occasionally saw him get very clingy if someone was nice to him. With children, he didn’t seem to know what to do, how to play. He’d get upset by things, and then either get very angry or run away and hide. And his language was horrible. I went to a muggle comprehensive school and didn’t hear swearing like that.
“I got to know him a bit though. Being a half-blood wasn’t quite as shameful as being a squib, but combine that with the difficult behaviour, and he was as much of an outcast as me. If there was a cat or a dog around, he preferred to be with them anyway, and I had a little terrier called Nipper. Aptly-named, he was, but he liked Severus. He would save food for Nipper. He was a skinny kid, and always looked like he needed a decent meal. I thought it was rather sweet that he gave up some of his own meal for my dog. I used to call him Sevvy.”
“I did notice he likes animals, although he’d probably deny it.”
“Yes, he’s a contrary bastard. He got control of that temper as he got older, too much control if you ask me, all that occlumency. After he moved to his grandparents he became very sullen and withdrawn, but by then I was barely in contact with my family, so I saw very little of him. I got sick of the looks of shame and pity. I could see they’d rather pretend I didn’t exist.”
Lupin was silent, turning to look out of the car window. Harry noticed his left hand, which had dropped into the gap between the seat and the door, was clenched into a fist. Something in what Clarridge said had bothered Lupin, although Harry had no idea what.
“At the start the first war, I broke contact with my family completely and I think he did too, so I didn’t see him for years.
“After the war ended, I heard a bit about him through various sources. I heard he was teaching at Hogwarts, and I also heard – although it was a quiet rumour – that he’d been a death eater. In a family that produced so many aurors, that was an appalling scandal, although given how he was treated by the family, I couldn’t blame him for joining the other side. So I tracked him down – thought we might be family rejects together. And I’d always wanted to see Hogwarts. I can’t say he was delighted to see me, but he deigned to accept a dinner invitation now and again. The first time he came he insulted Nita’s cooking as being “too foreign” and threatened to transfigure the children into toads if they were naughty. However he later ruined the attempt to be intimidating by being the only relative on my side of the family to remember their birthdays. He’d send sweets from Honeydukes every time, and at Christmas.
“My family rather grew to like him in the end. He developed quite a fondness for curry, and Nita actually taught him to make some of her mother’s recipes. He loved all the spices, said it was like brewing potions. The cat always insisted on sitting on his lap and covering those awful black robes with ginger fur. The children pretended to be terrified of him, then tried to outdo eachother in who could be naughtiest so they’d get to be the toad. Poor Severus, he never did understand the concept with children that you encourage and reward good behaviour, and discourage the bad. I don’t suppose he experienced that himself. I have no idea how he survived as a teacher – he never made it clear whether they were terrified by the all the glaring and sneering, or whether they saw straight through it and terrorised him.”
He flicked a glance back at Harry, who avoided his gaze. He found the man’s perspective on former teacher, and former enemy, disturbing.
Lupin made a slightly strangled sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
“More of the former,” Lupin said, diverting what he thought might be a rather awkward discussion. “My son’s rather fond of him though. He’s not intimidated at all. In fact he’s got Severus wrapped around his little finger, reading him stories whenever he demands it. I tell you, hearing “Green eggs and ham” or “Fox in socks” in that lovely voice of his is quite something.”
“You have a son? When did that happen?”
Once Lupin was onto the subject of Teddy, there was no stopping him. Harry noticed though, that he carefully avoided any mention of the boy’s mother, and that Clarridge never asked.
The hospital was not what Harry expected, with bright blue paint and trees, sprawled on the edge of a large park. It was busy too, the carpark full, and Harry began to feel anxious. Facing muggle inconveniences reminded him of life with his aunt and uncle. Clarridge dropped them near the main entrance and handed Lupin a cellphone.
“Text me when you are ready for me to pick you up, or if you need me to come in. You do remember how to send a text?”
Lupin fiddled with the phone.
“I think so. Yes, got it.”
“What about you Harry? Know how to text?”
Harry shook his head and Clarridge laughed.
“Now that’s something you don’t see often, a nineteen-year-old who can’t use a cellphone.”
He pressed a button and the car window raised, and he drove off to negotiate the late afternoon traffic. Harry looked after him curiously. He hadn’t mentioned his age.
“He’s no fool, Harry. He knows perfectly well who you are. He’s just being polite by not mentioning it.”
“So he’s a squib?”
“Yes, a squib from one of the more ancient and proud pureblood families. He hasn’t had an easy time of it. But he’s made the best of things. Uses his connections in both worlds to help both wizards and muggles when their worlds cross over.”
“Like rescuing wizards from mental hospitals. You’ve obviously done this with him before.”
“Yes, well I’ve done many things Harry. Most regular jobs aren’t available to… people like me, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who will overlook certain – er – undesirable traits in someone who can do a difficult or unpleasant job discreetly. A squib and a werewolf, we worked together a bit. I figured I owed him honesty, and he was completely unfazed. He’s a good man, Harry, and I’m glad he’s looking out for Severus.
“Now, before we go in, I need to make sure you have the story straight. I want you to say as little as possible, but you may be asked.
“I’ve told the staff here that he is my brother-in-law and I’m bringing his son – that’s you – and possibly his brother – Clarridge – with me. The background story is that your mother, my sister, is dead. You’ve lived with me since you were nine since he’s obviously not fit, as a schizophrenic who regularly stops taking his medication. I’ve been in the chair two years, after a car accident. Don’t answer any questions that want more detail than that, just look shy and embarrassed and let me answer. I’ll discourage them from being too nosy.”
Harry watched this different Lupin, focused, intense, direct. He’d seen him like this occasionally as a teacher, more often during the war, but never since. This was the man who’d survived all those years with no official job, a dark secret and nobody to look out for him. And yet he had never given up, had never joined the truly outcast, had never become embittered.
“Have you got that Harry?”
“Yes.”
“And our names?”
“I’m Harry Prince. He’s Stephen Prince. You’re John Howell. If Clarridge comes in, he’s Charlie Prince.”
“Correct. Suitably innocuous. Remus or Clarridge we might get away with, but Remus, Clarridge and Severus would be much too memorable.”
“What if he’s given them his name already?”
“He’s schizophrenic. Off his medication. Having a psychotic episode. He can say absolutely anything and not raise their suspicion.
“One other thing, I may need you to help cast some confusion spells if they get suspicious or won’t let us take him. Put your wand in the pocket on the back of my chair, I’ve got mine, down by my left leg where I can get it easily. Don’t do any magic unless I tell you. I’d prefer not to oblivate anyone.”
Harry looked at Lupin’s face closely. What he was suggesting was quite illegal. And he clearly meant it.
Harry pushed Lupin’s chair up the ramp, and into a reception area. Lupin gave his innocuous false name, and a man wearing pale blue with a name badge that said Garfield came to speak to them.
Lupin introduced himself and Harry, and handed the man some documents that he and Clarridge had prepared with well-practiced efficiency.
“Garfield,” Lupin said thoughtfully. “Your parents cricket fans?”
The man looked up from the papers Lupin had given him.
“Oh, yes,” he replied with a nod and a toothy grin. “My brother is named after Frank Worrell. He got the better name, but I got the better cricketer.”
Garfield and Lupin shared a smile and the papers received no more attention.
“Do you think Brian Lara will exceed him?” Lupin continued.
“Maybe, but my father will never agree.”
“Not even after that innings in Bridgetown?”
“Ah, well, that was almost enough to change his mind.”
Garfield smiled as if his mind was far away, then dragged his attention back to the present.
“So, your brother-in-law,” Garfield said, professional again. “I’m afraid he was agitated and aggressive when he was brought in, we had to sedate him. We’ve kept that up, as every time it started wearing off, he became agitated again. He was due for more sedative soon after you rang, so we held off on that. Thought we’d see how it went with you. So he’ll be a bit more alert than he has been for the last few days.”
“Thank you,” Lupin responded. “I think he may be a bit better with us here. Then again, maybe he won’t.”
The nurse gave Lupin a sympathetic half-smile, and continued his explanation.
“He was showing some signs of drug withdrawal on arrival – you mentioned he may have been taking something. We haven’t been able to work out what it was, although the sedatives seem to have reduced the symptoms. He’s also shown signs of tremors, almost like convulsions – is that a side effect?”
“He was on Haldol for some time when he was younger, there seems to be some permanent damage. I think that’s partly why it’s so hard to get him to stay taking his medication now.”
The nurse nodded, clearly finding Lupin entirely credible. He led them through a bright lounge where blank-faced men stared out of the window or muttered to themselves. They walked along to a wide corridor, with Harry pushing the Lupin’s chair, then passed a sign saying “Bluebell Ward”. Lupin and Garfield continued their conversation about cricket, Garfield’s family and the genius of Sir Garfield Sobers. Harry learned rather a lot about the cricket mad Barbadian, while Lupin revealed nothing about himself or Harry, apart from the fact that Harry had, to Lupin’s great regret, no interest in cricket. Harry realised that he was watching a master at work.
Eventually, they came to a room, dimly lit, where a man lay curled on the bed, his back to the wall. The nurse stood beside the man, who shielded his head with his arm.
“Mr Prince, your brother-in-law and son are here to see you.”
A pair of dazed eyes stared at the wall opposite the bed. This was undoubtedly Snape, but as they had never seen him. He wore a grimy white t-shirt and grey trackpants. His hair was damp and clinging to his face and neck. He was unshaven, and there was dried saliva around his mouth. Lupin moved his chair alongside and placed a hand on his arm cautiously.
“How are you doing?”
Snape was silent, staring fixedly ahead. Lupin rubbed his arm gently, saying nothing. Eventually, the eyes shifted to Lupin.
“I want to go home.”
His words slurred slightly.
“Well, that might not be quite possible right now. But I’m seeing about you coming to stay with Harry and me for a bit. Do you think that would be okay?”
Snape looked up at Lupin, then away. He sighed.
“Okay,” he replied eventually.
“Right then, we’ll get things sorted.”
Lupin turned to the nurse and said, “Would it be at all possible to speak to the doctor who has been treating him?”
Garfield replied “of course” and walked off. Lupin continued to sit beside Snape, hand resting on his arm.
When the doctor arrived, Lupin and Garfield retreated to the corridor and talked with him while Harry stood beside Snape. He really wasn’t sure what to do or say. He was supposed to pretend this man was his father though. He sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“It will be okay,” he said.
“Fuck off, Potter,” Snape muttered in response.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but left his hand on the shoulder. Snape really wasn’t going to make this easy.
Lupin returned to the room, looking pleased.
“We’ve brought a change of clothes.” Lupin turned to the Garfield. “Could we get him dressed please?”
He nodded.
“That’s quite the scar he’s got. I take it the tattoo removal wasn’t a professional job,” Garfield commented.
“Yes, there’s quite a story behind that,” Lupin replied, in a tone which clearly said he wasn’t particularly keen on sharing that story.
“When he was brought in, it was like he thought the scar was talking to him. He kept clutching at it and saying he was being called. He was very anxious about it, he kept saying he was being called and had to go. That’s the main reason he had to be sedated.”
Lupin sighed and then nodded.
“He used to believe it was communicating with him, or that there were… forces communicating with him through the tattoo. Eventually he… got rid of it. But of course that didn’t really fix things.”
“I see. He’s got a lot of scars, I noticed.”
“Yes, well, he hasn’t had the best life. Schizophrenia is just a part of it. There’s an intelligent and good man in there somewhere, but he’s had the odds stacked against him.”
Lupin’s hand had moved to Snape’s shoulder in a gesture that was almost protective.
Garfield gave a sigh.
“Well I’m glad to see he’s got some people standing by him. I do see people in here who don’t.”
Garfield patted Harry on the back and left the room, pulling the door closed after him. Harry’s eyes flicked again to Lupin once again as he thought about just how easily the werewolf blended the lies in with the truth. He wondered just how many times Lupin had done this.
“Severus, do you think you can sit up?” Lupin asked.
Snape hauled himself to a seated position on the bed. As he moved, the smell of his unwashed body became more apparent.
“When we get home, you’re going in the bath,” Lupin said. “Now, can you take the t-shirt off please.”
Snape glared at Lupin, but complied. He moved slowly, struggling to coordinate his movements, and Lupin nodded to Harry to help him lift the shirt over his head. Lupin produced a black shirt from the bag hanging over the back of his chair and passed it to Harry, who guided his arms into the sleeves. Snape pulled away and did up the buttons, mismatching them so there was a button spare at the bottom, and a buttonhole at the top. Harry motioned to help but Lupin stopped him.
“It will do Harry.”
Lupin pulled out a pair of trousers, also black, then socks and shoes. Snape got to his feet, assisted by Harry. His head hung forward, face covered by a curtain of lank hair. Harry dressed him as he might help a child, Snape following instructions to lift his foot, or sit down as if under the Imperius curse.
Once he was dressed in his characteristic black, Snape somehow looked better, perhaps a little happier. As they left the room, Garfield raised an eyebrow at the crooked buttons, and Lupin gave him a smile.
Outside the hospital, Snape sat on a bench while Lupin texted Clarridge to pick them up. Snape slouched forward, hair hanging around him, flinching at the bright sun as if he’d been in the dark for weeks.
A lone pigeon pecked at the ground near them, walking back and forth and occasionally looking at them hopefully.
“I’ve got nothing for you, sorry,” said Harry.
The bird looked at him intently, almost as if it understood.
Lupin looked up from his phone.
“Hang on, Harry”, he said. “Are you sure that’s a pigeon?”
“Um…I’m pretty sure I know what a pigeon looks like.”
Lupin put a hand on Snape’s shoulder.
“Severus? Is that Moros?”
Snape looked up at Lupin, his face confused. Lupin gestured to the pigeon, who was now pecking near his feet. Snape stared hard, clearly struggling to remember or understand.
Lupin leaned down from his chair and held out his arm to the bird.
“Moros, Moros, come here.”
The pigeon looked directly at Lupin, then hopped onto his arm, hooting gently. Lupin gave his neck a scratch, then handed him to Snape. The bird transformed back into an owl, and tucked itself against Snape’s chest contentedly. When Clarridge arrived with the car, Snape was gently stroking the owl, his face finally relaxed.
Clarridge drove them to a carpark behind an empty building and said goodbye.
“I’ll send you an owl, and come and see you when I can. It’s not so easy for me to get to Devon.”
“We can send a portkey, it should work for you. It would be wonderful to see you and for you to meet Teddy.”
“Well then, lovely to meet you Harry, and lovely to reassure myself that you’re not actually dead Remus. Take care of Severus… and you,” he reached his hand across to the back seat and patted Snape’s knee, “try not to be a complete arsehole for them, eh?”
