Loose ends chapter 16 - full moon
Feb. 19th, 2017 10:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coriariaSnape has a tantrum when Lupin tries to leave for the full moon. Hagrid comes off second best. Swearing, low-level violence, aftermath of child abuse. With extra werewolves. R?
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
Full moon
Snape flung himself to the floor beside Lupin’s chair and wrapped his arms around Lupin’s lower legs. He buried his face in the robe which Lupin always wore when visiting the Institute.
“No,” he cried.
Lupin gently stroked his hand across Snape’s head. Over the previous night and day, Sevvy had appeared more and more often. He clung to Lupin, demanding his attention even though the werewolf was utterly exhausted.
“It’s okay, Sevvy, I’m coming back. I just need to be away for the night.”
‘NO,” he wailed again, louder this time.
“Shh, Sevvy.”
“NO, don’t go.”
Snape was hysterical, half sobbing, half screaming. Lupin winced with pain at Snape’s grip around his legs. Teddy began to cry too, struggling in Andromeda’s arms.
“Daddy, don’t go.”
Andromeda carried him from the room, murmuring for him to be quiet, leaving four to deal with Sevvy.
Hagrid crouched down beside Snape and Lupin, and put his hands over Snape’s.
“Hush now, you need to let go. You’re hurting Remus.”
Slowly he attempted to prise Snape’s arms from Lupin’s legs. Snape struggled against him, but Hagrid was much stronger. As Snape’s grip loosened, Lupin pulled himself free with a sigh of relief. Snape reacted with a scream, and bit Hagrid hard on the hand. Hagrid yelped in pain – Snape had drawn blood. Hagrid kept his grip but Snape began to struggle more violently. He began to kick at Hagrid’s legs and bit him again, this time on his arm.
“Fuck you,” Snape yelled as he kicked again at Hagrid’s legs and grabbed his beard in his fist. “Fucking asshole. Filthy cunt. Useless little shit. Fuck you stupid cunt.”
Harry and Lupin looked at eachother, then Harry stepped towards the struggling pair. He pointed his wand at Snape.
“Hebetare,” he said, and suddenly Snape’s struggling ceased. He slumped against Hagrid, who lowered him gently to the floor.
“You okay Hagrid?” Harry asked.
“Oh, aye, not near as bad as a Hippogriff on a bad day.”
“Here, let me look,” said Lucretia, stepping forward and taking Hagrid’s bleeding hand in hers. “I’ll need to clean that, bites can get infected. Even alunar ones.”
Hagrid followed her from the room, while Harry and Lupin looked at the immobilised Snape.
“Sevvy, can you hear me?” Lupin asked.
Harry crouched beside Snape and lifted his head gently so that he could see Lupin. The eyes which flicked towards Lupin were still terrified, the breathing still rapid and shallow. Lupin could smell urine.
He leaned forward to Snape, gently brushing the hair back from his face.
“Sevvy, it’s ok,” he said, his voice hushed almost to a whisper. “Nobody here will hurt you. Even if I’m not here, this is a safe place for you, okay.”
Lupin continued to stroke his hair but turned his eyes to Harry.
“What did you use on him?”
“It’s something we use on violent prisoners, it relaxes the muscles of the limbs so that they can’t struggle.”
“Is…er…loss of bladder control a side effect?”
“No, it doesn’t affect those muscles” he said, glancing down at Snape before returning he eyes to Lupin. He continued speaking, in a more gentle voice. “I think it’s probably that he’s terrified. I can release the spell slowly, give him back some partial muscle control. That may help him feel calmer.”
Lupin watched as Harry took his wand in one hand, the other still cradling Snape’s head.
“Attenuare incantatem.”
Snape began to move, and immediately reached across and grabbed at Lupin’s legs again. The grip was more gentle though, as the spell was diminished but not ended.
“Back where we started,” sighed Lupin, his face frustrated but his hand gentle as he stroked the head that rested against his thigh .
Lucretia and Hagrid returned to the room, Hagrid’s hand no longer bleeding.
“Hades,” Lucretia said softly, “I see what you mean about being difficult.”
“He’s never been like this before, not this bad,” replied Lupin, continuing to stroke Snape’s hair in the same way he unconsciously soothed an upset Teddy.
“Remus, we really do need to leave now. We still have to pick up Nick and Bill on the way,” Lucretia said.
Lupin nodded.
“Harry, can you keep him restrained if needed? But please, not too much. He’s frightened enough as it is.”
Harry crouched next to Snape and put a hand on his shoulder, although Snape was flinching away from him.
“He’ll be ok, we will look after him. And I’ll get him cleaned up.”
Lupin turned to Hagrid.
“Are you sure about doing this?”
“Aye, not a problem. As I said, I’ve had worse with the animals.”
Lupin looked down again at Snape.
“Sevvy, I’m going now. I’ll be back in the morning, I will see you then.”
Snape began to cry, but was unable to resist as Harry moved his arms from Lupin’s legs. Lupin took his wand and vanished the tear and snot marks on his robe, and smoothed out the creases. The Institute’s director was old school, and nobody would dare turn up wearing stained, informal or muggle clothing. Except Lucretia, but then she followed her own rules. Lucretia moved Lupin’s chair from the room, taking him to say goodbye to Teddy and Andromeda, before leaving the farmhouse and apparating them both away.
As soon as Lupin arrived at the Institute, he was surrounded by the children who lived there.
“Mr Lupin, Mr Lupin, look at this.”
“Mr Lupin, I drew you a picture.”
“Mr Lupin, come and watch me. I can do a cartwheel now.”
“Mr Lupin, will you read to us?”
He greeted each of the six children in turn, then managed to convince them to talk to Bill Weasley for a few minutes. Despite not actually transforming, the Ministry still required him to spend the full moon either restrained at home or at the Institute. Bill came every month, spending a pleasant evening drinking with the institute’s director and one other “non-transforming werewolf” – as the Ministry classified them. They slept in spare rooms then when morning came he helped care for the werewolves after they transformed back. While the children were distracted by Bill, Lupin spoke to a pale-looking young man who hovered impatiently nearly.
“Wormwood, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” the man answered dismissively, although it was probably untrue. “How’s Professor Snape? Lucretia said he was staying with you, that’s he’s rather under the weather.”
Lupin nodded. The Institute’s young potion maker bore the distinction of being possibly the only student in Hogwarts history to consider Snape his favourite teacher. He had been prodigiously talented at potions – not surprising as the child of seventeen generations of expert potion makers, but he surpassed even the expectations of his family. He had a singlemindedness which won him few friends, but endeared him to his teacher. After a few unfortunate accidents due to Wormwood conducting potion experiments in the Ravenclaw common room, Snape had allowed him to spend his spare time in the Hogwarts lab, where Snape could ensure the boy did not harm himself or others. It probably helped their relationship that the boy appeared immune to sarcasm and had little conversation which didn’t revolve around potions.
Wormwood had earned top marks in potions, and mediocre marks in everything else, every year. In his final year, the same year Lupin taught at Hogwarts, he had been accepted into the Potions Academy. Lupin had heard from Snape that he was a star pupil there too, but had heard nothing of him after the war.
And then Harry had come home from a visit to Diagon Alley one day, saying he had recognised a young man slinking around, stealing food from rubbish bins behind the Leaky Cauldron.
“I recognise him from Hogwarts. He was a few years ahead but I think you taught him. I remember him because he was a bit weird. He used to hang out in the potions lab practicing and helping Professor Snape.”
“Ah,” said Lupin. “Wormwood Fox. Of course I remember him. But what on earth’s he doing stealing rubbish behind the Leaky Cauldron?”
“He looked awful, scruffy and starving.”
“He must be desperate. Perhaps you could take some food up tomorrow, and see if he’s still there.”
Harry had duly taken the food, and the young man had accepted it warily.
“I said I’d take him more tomorrow,” Harry reported when he returned home. “I asked him to meet me around three. I thought maybe if you were feeling okay you could come. Maybe he’d talk to you.”
The next day Harry apparated home early and took Lupin to London to meet Wormwood, but he hadn’t been there. They waited half an hour, sniffing the aromas of the rubbish bins, and hoping he’d turn up. Finally, Lupin noticed something, another scent beyond the rubbish. Something almost human, but slightly canine.
“Harry, I know what happened to him,” said Lupin quietly, then more firmly he said “Wormwood, you can come out, you are quite safe with us.”
Lupin could hear him moving about.
“Wormwood, it’s me, Professor Lupin. Do you remember me from Hogwarts? I’m the teacher that’s a werewolf.”
The young man appeared, disbelief on his face. He was filthy, his clothes tattered, his hair long and matted. His eyes were wide with fear.
“Come here, Wormwood,” Lupin said softly, and the young man approached cautiously. Lupin reached out his hand. Suddenly the young man grasped his hand and flung himself down in front of the chair, his head against Lupin’s knees. He began to cry, and between sobs, the whole story tumbled out, a long and involved tale about giant Black Forest earthworms and the magical properties that their slime has when collected at the full moon, how he hadn’t thought twice about collecting potion ingredients at the full moon close to one of the highest werewolf populations in Europe, how he had only narrowly escaped with his life because he had been collecting acanthite at the Himmelsfurt mine on the same trip, the disgust of his family that he had been turned, and his desperation at having nowhere to go and nobody to help him.
They had taken Wormwood to the Institute, the only safe place for a werewolf who had been rejected by their family. Initially, he had been reluctant to go, until Lupin had mentioned there was a potions lab there, unused since the previous potion maker had been killed in the war, leaving the Institute relying on commercial potions. He moved himself into the lab, even eating and sleeping there, refusing to look around the Institute or speak to the other residents and staff, whether werewolf or not. Eventually, after a week or two of doing nothing more than make potions, he emerged, back to his usual obsessive, but generally good-natured, self.
Within a couple of months Wormwood was a valued member of the Institute staff. He had also, Lupin noticed, drawn the attention of the young werewolf healer. They spent hours discussing the healing recipes from her family and other potions which were useful for werewolves. She had sat and watched him as he practiced brewing Wolfsbane, Postlune and Argyria for weeks, despite the fact that her knowledge of potions was purely theoretical, related to their application, and her supervision was of no practical use.
Lupin noticed the anxious look on Wormwood’s face as he waited for news of his former teacher.
“Severus is…” Lupin paused, knowing Snape would be upset to have a former student knowing the truth of his condition. “Severus is not well right now. He hasn’t really been looking after himself since the war ended, I suspect. Mostly I think he just needs a quiet environment and some decent care.”
“Really? What about the Dreamless Sleep and the memory problems, and thinking he’s a six year old?”
Lupin sighed. He should have known Lucretia would tell Wormwood everything. Between the two of them, they had less tact and discretion than James had had. And, however much Lupin had adored his friend, he had to admit that was not much.
“Lucretia told me. But you didn’t want me to know,” Wormwood added, looking puzzled.
“Severus is a rather private man. He doesn’t like people knowing things like that. Especially former students.”
“Yes, but I was his favourite student,” Wormwood replied, with neither self-consciousness nor arrogance.
Lupin nodded. It was quite true, but he still didn’t know whether a miserable and ill Snape would want to see the young man.
“I won’t be in top form for a couple of days, but after that, may I please come and see him? Of course I’m willing to help in any way possible. If there are any potions he requires I can make them. Except Dreamless Sleep obviously, I promise I won’t make that.”
“I’ll ask him, Wormwood,” Lupin replied. “He just might prefer to wait until he is feeling better before having visitors.”
Lupin noticed other werewolves arriving, and Wormwood moved off to greet them. The young man took his role as host seriously, making the visitors welcome, asking after their health and that of friends and family. A few months before, the hours before the full moon had seen Wormwood lurching from withdrawn and trembling, to panic attack, to weeping in Lupin's arms. Wormwood was still terrified, but Lupin admired the way he focused on caring for others to calm himself. Lupin returned to speaking with the children, now a group of seven after the arrival of a girl of sixteen who lived with her uncle, one of the Institute’s dragon keepers. He listened to their stories of life at the Institute and chatted to the other werewolves who came over to say hello. Finally, Wormwood returned, anxiety now clearly showing on his face.
“It’s time,” he said grimly.
Lupin nodded as Wormwood began moving his chair down to the changing room, where they left their clothes before heading out into the walled garden for the transformation. To distract Wormwood, Lupin asked him about his Hogwarts days, about making potions with Snape in his dungeon laboratory. The young man relaxed slightly, when upset or anxious he liked nothing more than an in-depth discussion on potion ingredients. As Wormwood began to talk, Lupin started to think that a visit from Wormwood to Snape might not be a bad thing. It would be a distraction for Snape, and Wormwood was quite capable of keeping up a conversation on his own if Snape had nothing to say back. And Snape might even rather enjoy hearing the young man listing potion ingredients with such enthusiasm – Merlin knew that nobody else, not even Lucretia, really wanted to hear that.
Slowly, the changing room filled up. The friendly chatter from earlier in the evening had faded, and the room was nearly silent. The werewolves walked in and each found a space to begin stripping their clothes. They avoided looking at eachother. Last to slink into the room was a young man, tall and elegant like his sister, but without her confident way of moving. Octavian Temple tried to avoid all company apart from his dragons as much as possible.
When the transformation was over, Lupin was exhausted. He’d tried to sleep, but the moonlight had kept the wolf part of him awake and restless. All night, images of the terrified Sevvy begging him not to leave had intruded on his attempts at calm. Once he had been cleaned up and dressed, and had managed to keep down some of the Postlune potion that Wormwood brewed, he waited impatiently for Harry or Andromeda to come and get him.
In the end, it was a tired-looking Harry who arrived to take him home. Before even asking how he was, Harry assured him that they were all okay, that Snape had been mostly calm, and that Hagrid still had all his limbs intact.
“Mostly Severus or Sevvy?” Lupin asked as they arrived back at the farmhouse.
Harry sighed.
“Mostly Sevvy. It seems like he’s having trouble staying as Severus. But you were right about Hagrid. After you left, Sevvy lay crying on the floor for a bit, then Hagrid just picked him up and held him on his lap, and he calmed down.”
They entered the house, finding Hagrid on the floor of the sitting room, playing with Teddy. The boy looked up at his father.
“Daddy,” he called, and got up from his trains. He flung himself at Lupin, who winced.
“Yer lookin’ awful,” said Hagrid, noticing Lupin’s state. “Even for yeh.”
“Thanks so much,” responded Lupin, a slight smile just visible in his eyes through the pain and exhaustion.
Harry took Lupin through to check on Snape and Andromeda. Snape was facing the wall, and didn’t turn his head as the trio entered the room. Andromeda brought her finger to her lips to indicate quiet.
“Finally asleep,” she whispered. “Probably won’t last though.”
Harry took Lupin to his room and helped him into bed.
“See, no trouble at all,” he said as Lupin drifted off to sleep.
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
Full moon
Snape flung himself to the floor beside Lupin’s chair and wrapped his arms around Lupin’s lower legs. He buried his face in the robe which Lupin always wore when visiting the Institute.
“No,” he cried.
Lupin gently stroked his hand across Snape’s head. Over the previous night and day, Sevvy had appeared more and more often. He clung to Lupin, demanding his attention even though the werewolf was utterly exhausted.
“It’s okay, Sevvy, I’m coming back. I just need to be away for the night.”
‘NO,” he wailed again, louder this time.
“Shh, Sevvy.”
“NO, don’t go.”
Snape was hysterical, half sobbing, half screaming. Lupin winced with pain at Snape’s grip around his legs. Teddy began to cry too, struggling in Andromeda’s arms.
“Daddy, don’t go.”
Andromeda carried him from the room, murmuring for him to be quiet, leaving four to deal with Sevvy.
Hagrid crouched down beside Snape and Lupin, and put his hands over Snape’s.
“Hush now, you need to let go. You’re hurting Remus.”
Slowly he attempted to prise Snape’s arms from Lupin’s legs. Snape struggled against him, but Hagrid was much stronger. As Snape’s grip loosened, Lupin pulled himself free with a sigh of relief. Snape reacted with a scream, and bit Hagrid hard on the hand. Hagrid yelped in pain – Snape had drawn blood. Hagrid kept his grip but Snape began to struggle more violently. He began to kick at Hagrid’s legs and bit him again, this time on his arm.
“Fuck you,” Snape yelled as he kicked again at Hagrid’s legs and grabbed his beard in his fist. “Fucking asshole. Filthy cunt. Useless little shit. Fuck you stupid cunt.”
Harry and Lupin looked at eachother, then Harry stepped towards the struggling pair. He pointed his wand at Snape.
“Hebetare,” he said, and suddenly Snape’s struggling ceased. He slumped against Hagrid, who lowered him gently to the floor.
“You okay Hagrid?” Harry asked.
“Oh, aye, not near as bad as a Hippogriff on a bad day.”
“Here, let me look,” said Lucretia, stepping forward and taking Hagrid’s bleeding hand in hers. “I’ll need to clean that, bites can get infected. Even alunar ones.”
Hagrid followed her from the room, while Harry and Lupin looked at the immobilised Snape.
“Sevvy, can you hear me?” Lupin asked.
Harry crouched beside Snape and lifted his head gently so that he could see Lupin. The eyes which flicked towards Lupin were still terrified, the breathing still rapid and shallow. Lupin could smell urine.
He leaned forward to Snape, gently brushing the hair back from his face.
“Sevvy, it’s ok,” he said, his voice hushed almost to a whisper. “Nobody here will hurt you. Even if I’m not here, this is a safe place for you, okay.”
Lupin continued to stroke his hair but turned his eyes to Harry.
“What did you use on him?”
“It’s something we use on violent prisoners, it relaxes the muscles of the limbs so that they can’t struggle.”
“Is…er…loss of bladder control a side effect?”
“No, it doesn’t affect those muscles” he said, glancing down at Snape before returning he eyes to Lupin. He continued speaking, in a more gentle voice. “I think it’s probably that he’s terrified. I can release the spell slowly, give him back some partial muscle control. That may help him feel calmer.”
Lupin watched as Harry took his wand in one hand, the other still cradling Snape’s head.
“Attenuare incantatem.”
Snape began to move, and immediately reached across and grabbed at Lupin’s legs again. The grip was more gentle though, as the spell was diminished but not ended.
“Back where we started,” sighed Lupin, his face frustrated but his hand gentle as he stroked the head that rested against his thigh .
Lucretia and Hagrid returned to the room, Hagrid’s hand no longer bleeding.
“Hades,” Lucretia said softly, “I see what you mean about being difficult.”
“He’s never been like this before, not this bad,” replied Lupin, continuing to stroke Snape’s hair in the same way he unconsciously soothed an upset Teddy.
“Remus, we really do need to leave now. We still have to pick up Nick and Bill on the way,” Lucretia said.
Lupin nodded.
“Harry, can you keep him restrained if needed? But please, not too much. He’s frightened enough as it is.”
Harry crouched next to Snape and put a hand on his shoulder, although Snape was flinching away from him.
“He’ll be ok, we will look after him. And I’ll get him cleaned up.”
Lupin turned to Hagrid.
“Are you sure about doing this?”
“Aye, not a problem. As I said, I’ve had worse with the animals.”
Lupin looked down again at Snape.
“Sevvy, I’m going now. I’ll be back in the morning, I will see you then.”
Snape began to cry, but was unable to resist as Harry moved his arms from Lupin’s legs. Lupin took his wand and vanished the tear and snot marks on his robe, and smoothed out the creases. The Institute’s director was old school, and nobody would dare turn up wearing stained, informal or muggle clothing. Except Lucretia, but then she followed her own rules. Lucretia moved Lupin’s chair from the room, taking him to say goodbye to Teddy and Andromeda, before leaving the farmhouse and apparating them both away.
As soon as Lupin arrived at the Institute, he was surrounded by the children who lived there.
“Mr Lupin, Mr Lupin, look at this.”
“Mr Lupin, I drew you a picture.”
“Mr Lupin, come and watch me. I can do a cartwheel now.”
“Mr Lupin, will you read to us?”
He greeted each of the six children in turn, then managed to convince them to talk to Bill Weasley for a few minutes. Despite not actually transforming, the Ministry still required him to spend the full moon either restrained at home or at the Institute. Bill came every month, spending a pleasant evening drinking with the institute’s director and one other “non-transforming werewolf” – as the Ministry classified them. They slept in spare rooms then when morning came he helped care for the werewolves after they transformed back. While the children were distracted by Bill, Lupin spoke to a pale-looking young man who hovered impatiently nearly.
“Wormwood, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” the man answered dismissively, although it was probably untrue. “How’s Professor Snape? Lucretia said he was staying with you, that’s he’s rather under the weather.”
Lupin nodded. The Institute’s young potion maker bore the distinction of being possibly the only student in Hogwarts history to consider Snape his favourite teacher. He had been prodigiously talented at potions – not surprising as the child of seventeen generations of expert potion makers, but he surpassed even the expectations of his family. He had a singlemindedness which won him few friends, but endeared him to his teacher. After a few unfortunate accidents due to Wormwood conducting potion experiments in the Ravenclaw common room, Snape had allowed him to spend his spare time in the Hogwarts lab, where Snape could ensure the boy did not harm himself or others. It probably helped their relationship that the boy appeared immune to sarcasm and had little conversation which didn’t revolve around potions.
Wormwood had earned top marks in potions, and mediocre marks in everything else, every year. In his final year, the same year Lupin taught at Hogwarts, he had been accepted into the Potions Academy. Lupin had heard from Snape that he was a star pupil there too, but had heard nothing of him after the war.
And then Harry had come home from a visit to Diagon Alley one day, saying he had recognised a young man slinking around, stealing food from rubbish bins behind the Leaky Cauldron.
“I recognise him from Hogwarts. He was a few years ahead but I think you taught him. I remember him because he was a bit weird. He used to hang out in the potions lab practicing and helping Professor Snape.”
“Ah,” said Lupin. “Wormwood Fox. Of course I remember him. But what on earth’s he doing stealing rubbish behind the Leaky Cauldron?”
“He looked awful, scruffy and starving.”
“He must be desperate. Perhaps you could take some food up tomorrow, and see if he’s still there.”
Harry had duly taken the food, and the young man had accepted it warily.
“I said I’d take him more tomorrow,” Harry reported when he returned home. “I asked him to meet me around three. I thought maybe if you were feeling okay you could come. Maybe he’d talk to you.”
The next day Harry apparated home early and took Lupin to London to meet Wormwood, but he hadn’t been there. They waited half an hour, sniffing the aromas of the rubbish bins, and hoping he’d turn up. Finally, Lupin noticed something, another scent beyond the rubbish. Something almost human, but slightly canine.
“Harry, I know what happened to him,” said Lupin quietly, then more firmly he said “Wormwood, you can come out, you are quite safe with us.”
Lupin could hear him moving about.
“Wormwood, it’s me, Professor Lupin. Do you remember me from Hogwarts? I’m the teacher that’s a werewolf.”
The young man appeared, disbelief on his face. He was filthy, his clothes tattered, his hair long and matted. His eyes were wide with fear.
“Come here, Wormwood,” Lupin said softly, and the young man approached cautiously. Lupin reached out his hand. Suddenly the young man grasped his hand and flung himself down in front of the chair, his head against Lupin’s knees. He began to cry, and between sobs, the whole story tumbled out, a long and involved tale about giant Black Forest earthworms and the magical properties that their slime has when collected at the full moon, how he hadn’t thought twice about collecting potion ingredients at the full moon close to one of the highest werewolf populations in Europe, how he had only narrowly escaped with his life because he had been collecting acanthite at the Himmelsfurt mine on the same trip, the disgust of his family that he had been turned, and his desperation at having nowhere to go and nobody to help him.
They had taken Wormwood to the Institute, the only safe place for a werewolf who had been rejected by their family. Initially, he had been reluctant to go, until Lupin had mentioned there was a potions lab there, unused since the previous potion maker had been killed in the war, leaving the Institute relying on commercial potions. He moved himself into the lab, even eating and sleeping there, refusing to look around the Institute or speak to the other residents and staff, whether werewolf or not. Eventually, after a week or two of doing nothing more than make potions, he emerged, back to his usual obsessive, but generally good-natured, self.
Within a couple of months Wormwood was a valued member of the Institute staff. He had also, Lupin noticed, drawn the attention of the young werewolf healer. They spent hours discussing the healing recipes from her family and other potions which were useful for werewolves. She had sat and watched him as he practiced brewing Wolfsbane, Postlune and Argyria for weeks, despite the fact that her knowledge of potions was purely theoretical, related to their application, and her supervision was of no practical use.
Lupin noticed the anxious look on Wormwood’s face as he waited for news of his former teacher.
“Severus is…” Lupin paused, knowing Snape would be upset to have a former student knowing the truth of his condition. “Severus is not well right now. He hasn’t really been looking after himself since the war ended, I suspect. Mostly I think he just needs a quiet environment and some decent care.”
“Really? What about the Dreamless Sleep and the memory problems, and thinking he’s a six year old?”
Lupin sighed. He should have known Lucretia would tell Wormwood everything. Between the two of them, they had less tact and discretion than James had had. And, however much Lupin had adored his friend, he had to admit that was not much.
“Lucretia told me. But you didn’t want me to know,” Wormwood added, looking puzzled.
“Severus is a rather private man. He doesn’t like people knowing things like that. Especially former students.”
“Yes, but I was his favourite student,” Wormwood replied, with neither self-consciousness nor arrogance.
Lupin nodded. It was quite true, but he still didn’t know whether a miserable and ill Snape would want to see the young man.
“I won’t be in top form for a couple of days, but after that, may I please come and see him? Of course I’m willing to help in any way possible. If there are any potions he requires I can make them. Except Dreamless Sleep obviously, I promise I won’t make that.”
“I’ll ask him, Wormwood,” Lupin replied. “He just might prefer to wait until he is feeling better before having visitors.”
Lupin noticed other werewolves arriving, and Wormwood moved off to greet them. The young man took his role as host seriously, making the visitors welcome, asking after their health and that of friends and family. A few months before, the hours before the full moon had seen Wormwood lurching from withdrawn and trembling, to panic attack, to weeping in Lupin's arms. Wormwood was still terrified, but Lupin admired the way he focused on caring for others to calm himself. Lupin returned to speaking with the children, now a group of seven after the arrival of a girl of sixteen who lived with her uncle, one of the Institute’s dragon keepers. He listened to their stories of life at the Institute and chatted to the other werewolves who came over to say hello. Finally, Wormwood returned, anxiety now clearly showing on his face.
“It’s time,” he said grimly.
Lupin nodded as Wormwood began moving his chair down to the changing room, where they left their clothes before heading out into the walled garden for the transformation. To distract Wormwood, Lupin asked him about his Hogwarts days, about making potions with Snape in his dungeon laboratory. The young man relaxed slightly, when upset or anxious he liked nothing more than an in-depth discussion on potion ingredients. As Wormwood began to talk, Lupin started to think that a visit from Wormwood to Snape might not be a bad thing. It would be a distraction for Snape, and Wormwood was quite capable of keeping up a conversation on his own if Snape had nothing to say back. And Snape might even rather enjoy hearing the young man listing potion ingredients with such enthusiasm – Merlin knew that nobody else, not even Lucretia, really wanted to hear that.
Slowly, the changing room filled up. The friendly chatter from earlier in the evening had faded, and the room was nearly silent. The werewolves walked in and each found a space to begin stripping their clothes. They avoided looking at eachother. Last to slink into the room was a young man, tall and elegant like his sister, but without her confident way of moving. Octavian Temple tried to avoid all company apart from his dragons as much as possible.
When the transformation was over, Lupin was exhausted. He’d tried to sleep, but the moonlight had kept the wolf part of him awake and restless. All night, images of the terrified Sevvy begging him not to leave had intruded on his attempts at calm. Once he had been cleaned up and dressed, and had managed to keep down some of the Postlune potion that Wormwood brewed, he waited impatiently for Harry or Andromeda to come and get him.
In the end, it was a tired-looking Harry who arrived to take him home. Before even asking how he was, Harry assured him that they were all okay, that Snape had been mostly calm, and that Hagrid still had all his limbs intact.
“Mostly Severus or Sevvy?” Lupin asked as they arrived back at the farmhouse.
Harry sighed.
“Mostly Sevvy. It seems like he’s having trouble staying as Severus. But you were right about Hagrid. After you left, Sevvy lay crying on the floor for a bit, then Hagrid just picked him up and held him on his lap, and he calmed down.”
They entered the house, finding Hagrid on the floor of the sitting room, playing with Teddy. The boy looked up at his father.
“Daddy,” he called, and got up from his trains. He flung himself at Lupin, who winced.
“Yer lookin’ awful,” said Hagrid, noticing Lupin’s state. “Even for yeh.”
“Thanks so much,” responded Lupin, a slight smile just visible in his eyes through the pain and exhaustion.
Harry took Lupin through to check on Snape and Andromeda. Snape was facing the wall, and didn’t turn his head as the trio entered the room. Andromeda brought her finger to her lips to indicate quiet.
“Finally asleep,” she whispered. “Probably won’t last though.”
Harry took Lupin to his room and helped him into bed.
“See, no trouble at all,” he said as Lupin drifted off to sleep.
