Loose ends chapter 13 - returned
Feb. 17th, 2017 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coriariaSnape is not happy to discover he spent most of the day as a six-year-old. R. Reference to substance abuse, child abuse and neglect, charater death.
This is a work of fan fiction. The world and all recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling and I make no claim or profit etc
Returned
The sun was gone when Lupin awoke to the sound of a heavy thud on his bedroom floor. He rolled onto his back and grabbed his wand. When the room lightened, he saw Snape sitting on the floor with a confused look on his face.
“Sevvy, what happened?”
Snape looked startled.
“What the hell?” he said, the voice very much adult Snape. “What the hell did you just call me?”
“Ah, Severus,” Lupin responded, enunciating the name very clearly. “You’re back.”
Snape’s face twisted into an angry sneer, but Lupin could see he’d lost much of the ability he once had to mask his feelings. Behind the sneer, Lupin could see he was confused, afraid and in pain. He remembered the panic last time he had come back after getting stuck in a memory, and the result. He spoke again, this time more gently.
“Severus, do you remember what has been happening, why you are here?”
For a moment it appeared that Snape would ignore the question, but then he suddenly looked uncertain, as if he’d suddenly realised he didn’t know. A crease appeared between his brows as he concentrated on remembering.
“The Dreamless Sleep,” he said finally. “You were helping me stop it.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But it’s all a mess in my head. Normally I… I remember the recent things best, but… but all I can remember is my childhood.”
“What are you remembering, Severus?”
The man’s face once again creased in concentration. He began to look more confused, more anxious and his breathing became heavier.
“It’s okay, Severus.”
“No it’s not, oh Merlin.”
He put his face in his hands.
Lupin pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned across to put his hand on Snape’s shoulder.
“You got stuck in your memory, Severus.”
Snape began to rock himself and hyperventilate – building himself up to a panic. Lupin grabbed his wrist and spoke more firmly.
“Severus, it’s okay. Please, listen to me.”
Snape showed no signed of responding. Lupin could feel himself tensing. His head hurt, he was exhausted, he needed more sleep. He didn’t need this ridiculous behaviour. He took a deep breath and contemplated calling Harry or Andromeda to try and sort it out so he could just go back to sleep.
He took another breath. He knew that Snape responded best to him, whether the adult or the child. And he wasn’t trying to be difficult. This was genuine distress, and if Snape had any ability to control his behaviour, he would not be acting in this way – he was the kind of man to hide away and lick his wounds alone.
Lupin let go of Snape’s arm and began to struggle out of bed. It would be easier to sit beside him to try and get him calmed down. He slid to the floor ungracefully, knocking his hip and grunting in pain. He dragged his uncooperative body across to where Snape sat.
“Severus, please listen.”
He sat uncomfortably in front of Snape and put a hand on his shoulder again.
“Come on now, it’s ok.”
Snape shook his head.
“It’s ok, really. You’re in the middle of the physical withdrawal, it’s an awful time, but it gets better.”
“You don’t know that.”
Lupin felt Snape’s shoulder shudder and he realised that the man was close to crying again. Lupin held his breath then let it out slowly.
After a day with Sevvy, Lupin wasn’t shocked to see Snape near tears, but he realised that it was very, very far out of character for the adult Snape. He had seen the man turn up to Order meetings in a bad state, and, even if he was in serious pain, he showed little outward sign. The one reliable indicator that Lupin had learned to read was more obvious hostility to those who might have been tempted to be kind to him, like Lupin, Dumbledore or Dora. If Snape turned up and sat next to Moody, Lupin knew something was very wrong indeed, although that knowledge was useless as Snape never accepted even the smallest assistance from him.
“I do know,” Lupin said gently to the distressed man, “that once your body and mind are free of the addiction, you’ll have a better chance of improvement. Things will get better. I have seen that happen before.”
Lupin slid his hand across Snape’s back and to his other shoulder, wrapping his good arm around the man’s body as it began to shake. Snape struggled to control himself, but his body was overcome with desperate, almost convulsive, crying. His hands covered his face and his back heaved. Lupin held him tight and murmured gentle words of comfort.
“There now, Severus, it’s alright. Shh, shh.”
The crying went on for a long time, gradually easing from the body-wracking sobs to a desolate weeping that seemed as if it would never end, as if years of uncomforted pain and grief were being released in an unrelenting flood. Lupin noticed Harry and Andromeda glance into the room at different times, then leave the men alone again. His hip ached, his head ached and he was starting to feel ache of the coming transformation, as the light from a nearly full moon shone through his bedroom window. Still, Snape’s tears came, and Lupin held him against his broken body. Slowly, the black-haired man got himself under more control, his breathing steadier, the tension in his body beginning to dissipate. Finally, his red eyes looked up at Lupin.
“I’m sorry, Lupin, I’m so sorry about this. You’ve been so patient.”
“Well, I’ve had a bit of practice.” Lupin said. “Don’t worry yourself, I had a good idea what was involved before I said I’d help you.”
“Yes, I noticed that. Potter said he had a problem with it.”
Lupin nodded.
“And I’ve dealt with others with this kind of problem in the past. Clarridge and I didn’t just work out how to get wizards out of muggle mental hospitals because you happened to be there. We did it quite a few times over the years, and some of the people we helped had problems like yours too.”
“Addiction, you mean. Presumably not suddenly thinking they were six years old again.”
“No, that’s a new one to me. Harry did find some information about getting trapped in memories though. Do you remember what happened when you were in the memory, when you thought you were a child?”
“Bits of it. I remember how I felt, being so frightened, then I remember you being very patient. I remember…oh Merlin. I remember some of the things I told you. About my father. You sent Potter out of the room, which was very kind. Only I went and told him myself about my mother.”
Lupin was silent, waiting to see where Snape was going. Harry hadn’t mentioned anything Snape had said about his mother. When he realised Snape was not going to say any more he spoke again.
“Harry didn’t mention anything about your mother to me.”
Snape looked at him intently, searching his face for a lie. Seeing none, he sighed.
“Well you should probably know anyway. My mother used to take a lot of potions – sleeping potions, calming potions, whatever. I suppose it was her way of escaping the situation she found herself in. When I was younger, I never understood why she didn’t defend herself, or me. She could have, she was a witch, quite capable of protecting herself and me from my father if she was in full command of her senses and her magic. But she never was, she spent most of her time in a fog of confusion, although...” Snape paused, his eyes cast down, his voice nearly a whisper. “Sometimes she’d also get very angry, and curse my father. Or me. She eventually died of an overdose. I never knew whether it was deliberate or not.”
Snape’s face had taken on a blank expression as he spoke. Lupin had seen that expression before, it was the one he used when talking about the things that were most painful to him. He had seen it at Order meetings, talking about the actions of the Death Eaters – actions he was forced to participate in. And, Lupin remembered, that other time. The time he was not to refer to.
Lupin was uncertain what to say to the latest revelation. In the end he simply stated the truth.
“Severus, I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say to that. It’s just awful.”
Snape nodded and sat silently. Finally he spoke again.
“Why did you call me Sevvy?”
“Clarridge mentioned that he called you Sevvy when you were a boy. It’s simpler to have a different name, so everyone it aware. When they come in and hear me refer to you as Severus, they won’t try and talk to you like you are a child.”
“And why was I in bed with you?”
“I was trying to sleep and you insisted on getting in with me. I was having an attack earlier and you tried to get in the bed then. When Andromeda wouldn’t let you, you were quite upset and ended up hiding in the garden in the rain. Do you remember that?”
Snape thought for a moment.
“I remember being out there with Grimmy. And Potter.”
“After you had come back in you wanted to get in the bed again, and since I was past the worst of the attack it just seemed easier to let you, to be honest. You should be grateful I refused to let you come into the toilet with me.”
Snape dropped his face into his hands again.
“I was really hoping you’d forget that.”
It was a much calmer Snape that faced Harry and Andromeda when Lupin finally called them in. For a short time, at least, both Snape’s body and mind were more settled. While Harry gently lifted an aching Lupin back to bed, Snape went to the toilet and took himself back to his own bed in Harry’s room. He lay silent there, gritting his teeth at the pounding in his head, but refusing to comment or complain. Both Harry and Lupin knew it wouldn’t last. There were times in the withdrawal when the worst of the symptoms seemed to let up, but they would come back. Snape still had at least another two days of nausea, cramps, vomiting and other physical symptoms to endure.
Then, it would get much worse. When used constantly, and without the opportunity for release that came with a natural night’s sleep, the Dreamless Sleep seemed to lock the nightmares up somewhere deep in the mind. When an addict stopped, the nightmares escaped and returned – all at once. When asleep, they came as nightmares, awake, as hallucinations. Harry had suffered for over a week, and caring for him had been far more arduous than the physical withdrawal.
Later that evening, when he had slept a few more hours and was just a little less drained, Lupin sat by Snape’s bed.
“Severus, I don’t know if you realise that it’s the full moon the night after tomorrow night”
Snape was silent. It wasn’t strictly a question, and shaking his head or forming the word “no” seemed like too much effort.
“I won’t be here, I’ll have to go to the Institute, and once I’m back I won’t be much use for the next few days.”
Lupin could see the fear in Snape’s eyes. He thought for a moment that it was the reminder that Lupin was a werewolf, then Snape reached out and gripped his arm.
“I’ve given some thought to who may be able to help while I can’t. I was thinking of asking Hagrid.”
Snape’s eyebrows rose and he finally spoke.
“Hagrid? Really?”
“Well, you don’t hate eachother. Hagrid’s competent and not going to fuss. And he’s good with kids so he’ll cope if we get a visit from Sevvy.”
Snape had gone silent again.
“Well, if you didn’t want me to call Hagrid, I’m sure Madame Pomphrey would be delighted to help. Harry suggested Hermione, since she’s training to be a healer, and I’m sure she would know exactly what to do. I did think of asking Clarridge, but he is busy, and if you get particularly difficult, he’s not going to have either the magic or physical strength to help keep you and himself safe. But it there’s anyone else you’d prefer, let me know.”
Snape sighed.
“Okay, ask Hagrid.”
Lupin nodded and left Snape to Harry’s care for the night. He suspected it would be a miserable one, as he could see the way Snape was twisting slightly in the bed, trying to get comfortable as his insides rebelled.
But it was not Snape or Harry that woke Lupin that night. It was Dora. As he did so often in his sleep, Lupin watched as she was dragged from him, screaming, her arms reaching out desperately to him. He hadn’t been there when she was killed, but that didn’t stop his subconscious from supplying the details. It was not as if he hadn’t seen many people killed, his days with Greyback especially bloody. Each death would replay itself in his dreams, each victim wearing Dora’s face.
Lupin lay in his bed, hoping desperately that Harry would turn up and say that he was needed. But Harry never came, and Lupin drifted back into an unsatisfying sleep.
This is a work of fan fiction. The world and all recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling and I make no claim or profit etc
Returned
The sun was gone when Lupin awoke to the sound of a heavy thud on his bedroom floor. He rolled onto his back and grabbed his wand. When the room lightened, he saw Snape sitting on the floor with a confused look on his face.
“Sevvy, what happened?”
Snape looked startled.
“What the hell?” he said, the voice very much adult Snape. “What the hell did you just call me?”
“Ah, Severus,” Lupin responded, enunciating the name very clearly. “You’re back.”
Snape’s face twisted into an angry sneer, but Lupin could see he’d lost much of the ability he once had to mask his feelings. Behind the sneer, Lupin could see he was confused, afraid and in pain. He remembered the panic last time he had come back after getting stuck in a memory, and the result. He spoke again, this time more gently.
“Severus, do you remember what has been happening, why you are here?”
For a moment it appeared that Snape would ignore the question, but then he suddenly looked uncertain, as if he’d suddenly realised he didn’t know. A crease appeared between his brows as he concentrated on remembering.
“The Dreamless Sleep,” he said finally. “You were helping me stop it.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But it’s all a mess in my head. Normally I… I remember the recent things best, but… but all I can remember is my childhood.”
“What are you remembering, Severus?”
The man’s face once again creased in concentration. He began to look more confused, more anxious and his breathing became heavier.
“It’s okay, Severus.”
“No it’s not, oh Merlin.”
He put his face in his hands.
Lupin pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned across to put his hand on Snape’s shoulder.
“You got stuck in your memory, Severus.”
Snape began to rock himself and hyperventilate – building himself up to a panic. Lupin grabbed his wrist and spoke more firmly.
“Severus, it’s okay. Please, listen to me.”
Snape showed no signed of responding. Lupin could feel himself tensing. His head hurt, he was exhausted, he needed more sleep. He didn’t need this ridiculous behaviour. He took a deep breath and contemplated calling Harry or Andromeda to try and sort it out so he could just go back to sleep.
He took another breath. He knew that Snape responded best to him, whether the adult or the child. And he wasn’t trying to be difficult. This was genuine distress, and if Snape had any ability to control his behaviour, he would not be acting in this way – he was the kind of man to hide away and lick his wounds alone.
Lupin let go of Snape’s arm and began to struggle out of bed. It would be easier to sit beside him to try and get him calmed down. He slid to the floor ungracefully, knocking his hip and grunting in pain. He dragged his uncooperative body across to where Snape sat.
“Severus, please listen.”
He sat uncomfortably in front of Snape and put a hand on his shoulder again.
“Come on now, it’s ok.”
Snape shook his head.
“It’s ok, really. You’re in the middle of the physical withdrawal, it’s an awful time, but it gets better.”
“You don’t know that.”
Lupin felt Snape’s shoulder shudder and he realised that the man was close to crying again. Lupin held his breath then let it out slowly.
After a day with Sevvy, Lupin wasn’t shocked to see Snape near tears, but he realised that it was very, very far out of character for the adult Snape. He had seen the man turn up to Order meetings in a bad state, and, even if he was in serious pain, he showed little outward sign. The one reliable indicator that Lupin had learned to read was more obvious hostility to those who might have been tempted to be kind to him, like Lupin, Dumbledore or Dora. If Snape turned up and sat next to Moody, Lupin knew something was very wrong indeed, although that knowledge was useless as Snape never accepted even the smallest assistance from him.
“I do know,” Lupin said gently to the distressed man, “that once your body and mind are free of the addiction, you’ll have a better chance of improvement. Things will get better. I have seen that happen before.”
Lupin slid his hand across Snape’s back and to his other shoulder, wrapping his good arm around the man’s body as it began to shake. Snape struggled to control himself, but his body was overcome with desperate, almost convulsive, crying. His hands covered his face and his back heaved. Lupin held him tight and murmured gentle words of comfort.
“There now, Severus, it’s alright. Shh, shh.”
The crying went on for a long time, gradually easing from the body-wracking sobs to a desolate weeping that seemed as if it would never end, as if years of uncomforted pain and grief were being released in an unrelenting flood. Lupin noticed Harry and Andromeda glance into the room at different times, then leave the men alone again. His hip ached, his head ached and he was starting to feel ache of the coming transformation, as the light from a nearly full moon shone through his bedroom window. Still, Snape’s tears came, and Lupin held him against his broken body. Slowly, the black-haired man got himself under more control, his breathing steadier, the tension in his body beginning to dissipate. Finally, his red eyes looked up at Lupin.
“I’m sorry, Lupin, I’m so sorry about this. You’ve been so patient.”
“Well, I’ve had a bit of practice.” Lupin said. “Don’t worry yourself, I had a good idea what was involved before I said I’d help you.”
“Yes, I noticed that. Potter said he had a problem with it.”
Lupin nodded.
“And I’ve dealt with others with this kind of problem in the past. Clarridge and I didn’t just work out how to get wizards out of muggle mental hospitals because you happened to be there. We did it quite a few times over the years, and some of the people we helped had problems like yours too.”
“Addiction, you mean. Presumably not suddenly thinking they were six years old again.”
“No, that’s a new one to me. Harry did find some information about getting trapped in memories though. Do you remember what happened when you were in the memory, when you thought you were a child?”
“Bits of it. I remember how I felt, being so frightened, then I remember you being very patient. I remember…oh Merlin. I remember some of the things I told you. About my father. You sent Potter out of the room, which was very kind. Only I went and told him myself about my mother.”
Lupin was silent, waiting to see where Snape was going. Harry hadn’t mentioned anything Snape had said about his mother. When he realised Snape was not going to say any more he spoke again.
“Harry didn’t mention anything about your mother to me.”
Snape looked at him intently, searching his face for a lie. Seeing none, he sighed.
“Well you should probably know anyway. My mother used to take a lot of potions – sleeping potions, calming potions, whatever. I suppose it was her way of escaping the situation she found herself in. When I was younger, I never understood why she didn’t defend herself, or me. She could have, she was a witch, quite capable of protecting herself and me from my father if she was in full command of her senses and her magic. But she never was, she spent most of her time in a fog of confusion, although...” Snape paused, his eyes cast down, his voice nearly a whisper. “Sometimes she’d also get very angry, and curse my father. Or me. She eventually died of an overdose. I never knew whether it was deliberate or not.”
Snape’s face had taken on a blank expression as he spoke. Lupin had seen that expression before, it was the one he used when talking about the things that were most painful to him. He had seen it at Order meetings, talking about the actions of the Death Eaters – actions he was forced to participate in. And, Lupin remembered, that other time. The time he was not to refer to.
Lupin was uncertain what to say to the latest revelation. In the end he simply stated the truth.
“Severus, I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say to that. It’s just awful.”
Snape nodded and sat silently. Finally he spoke again.
“Why did you call me Sevvy?”
“Clarridge mentioned that he called you Sevvy when you were a boy. It’s simpler to have a different name, so everyone it aware. When they come in and hear me refer to you as Severus, they won’t try and talk to you like you are a child.”
“And why was I in bed with you?”
“I was trying to sleep and you insisted on getting in with me. I was having an attack earlier and you tried to get in the bed then. When Andromeda wouldn’t let you, you were quite upset and ended up hiding in the garden in the rain. Do you remember that?”
Snape thought for a moment.
“I remember being out there with Grimmy. And Potter.”
“After you had come back in you wanted to get in the bed again, and since I was past the worst of the attack it just seemed easier to let you, to be honest. You should be grateful I refused to let you come into the toilet with me.”
Snape dropped his face into his hands again.
“I was really hoping you’d forget that.”
It was a much calmer Snape that faced Harry and Andromeda when Lupin finally called them in. For a short time, at least, both Snape’s body and mind were more settled. While Harry gently lifted an aching Lupin back to bed, Snape went to the toilet and took himself back to his own bed in Harry’s room. He lay silent there, gritting his teeth at the pounding in his head, but refusing to comment or complain. Both Harry and Lupin knew it wouldn’t last. There were times in the withdrawal when the worst of the symptoms seemed to let up, but they would come back. Snape still had at least another two days of nausea, cramps, vomiting and other physical symptoms to endure.
Then, it would get much worse. When used constantly, and without the opportunity for release that came with a natural night’s sleep, the Dreamless Sleep seemed to lock the nightmares up somewhere deep in the mind. When an addict stopped, the nightmares escaped and returned – all at once. When asleep, they came as nightmares, awake, as hallucinations. Harry had suffered for over a week, and caring for him had been far more arduous than the physical withdrawal.
Later that evening, when he had slept a few more hours and was just a little less drained, Lupin sat by Snape’s bed.
“Severus, I don’t know if you realise that it’s the full moon the night after tomorrow night”
Snape was silent. It wasn’t strictly a question, and shaking his head or forming the word “no” seemed like too much effort.
“I won’t be here, I’ll have to go to the Institute, and once I’m back I won’t be much use for the next few days.”
Lupin could see the fear in Snape’s eyes. He thought for a moment that it was the reminder that Lupin was a werewolf, then Snape reached out and gripped his arm.
“I’ve given some thought to who may be able to help while I can’t. I was thinking of asking Hagrid.”
Snape’s eyebrows rose and he finally spoke.
“Hagrid? Really?”
“Well, you don’t hate eachother. Hagrid’s competent and not going to fuss. And he’s good with kids so he’ll cope if we get a visit from Sevvy.”
Snape had gone silent again.
“Well, if you didn’t want me to call Hagrid, I’m sure Madame Pomphrey would be delighted to help. Harry suggested Hermione, since she’s training to be a healer, and I’m sure she would know exactly what to do. I did think of asking Clarridge, but he is busy, and if you get particularly difficult, he’s not going to have either the magic or physical strength to help keep you and himself safe. But it there’s anyone else you’d prefer, let me know.”
Snape sighed.
“Okay, ask Hagrid.”
Lupin nodded and left Snape to Harry’s care for the night. He suspected it would be a miserable one, as he could see the way Snape was twisting slightly in the bed, trying to get comfortable as his insides rebelled.
But it was not Snape or Harry that woke Lupin that night. It was Dora. As he did so often in his sleep, Lupin watched as she was dragged from him, screaming, her arms reaching out desperately to him. He hadn’t been there when she was killed, but that didn’t stop his subconscious from supplying the details. It was not as if he hadn’t seen many people killed, his days with Greyback especially bloody. Each death would replay itself in his dreams, each victim wearing Dora’s face.
Lupin lay in his bed, hoping desperately that Harry would turn up and say that he was needed. But Harry never came, and Lupin drifted back into an unsatisfying sleep.
