Loose ends chapter 25 - Postlune

[coriaria]

Snape visits a former student in his potions lab and gets his snark back. Mild angst, discussion of elf abuse, dictionary abuse, magical invasive species, attempted humour. PG.

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

Postlune
Wormwood came that afternoon, clutching a tatty satchel and looking delighted.

“Professor Snape. How unreservedly marvellous it is to see you again.”

“I no longer teach. I’m no longer “Professor”.”

“Of course, sir, of course.”

“I find that I don’t… recall you. I understand I taught you for some years though.”

“Yes, sir. Seven years. But plese don’t discompose yourself on my behalf. Remus said you might not. He additionally indicated that you were interested in Postlune?”

Snape gave a cautious nod.

“I brought my notes – and Lucretia’s original notes too. It’s a fascinating potion, most exceedingly unusual amongst the healing potions. The majority of the ingredients are extremely toxic – it’s got all sorts from Abrus to Zigadenus and everything in between. Orpiment, death caps, henbane, basilisk venom, ergot. It’s dashed interesting to look at how they all interact. If the timing is out by just a trifling amount, it’s deadly.”

Wormwood began waving papers under Snape’s nose and, despite his apparent anxiety at facing a visitor he didn’t recognise, Lupin could see he was being drawn in.

“Lucretia could remember only the list of ingredients, the phase of the moon for brewing, and scant salient fragments from watching her aunt. I had to deduce the rest myself.”

“Where did you start?”

“Well, I started researching other potions where the final effect is contradictory to the properties of certain ingredients – like chamomile in Pepper Up or ergot in Dreamless Sleep. Whoops, sorry, silly me, I shouldn’t be reminding you of that one.”

Wormwood looked concerned about Snape, but was neither embarrassed nor afraid. Had Harry made a comment like that, he’d probably have been hexed. But Lupin remembered that at school Wormwood had been able to make quite outrageous comments to his favourite teacher without consequence. Including, Flitwick had gleefully told him once, suggestions about potions that might improve Snape’s hair, teeth and questionable personal hygiene. Apparently being an eccentric genius afforded the boy an unheard-of level of tolerance.

Snape ignored the comment, and Wormwood continued to describe his months of research and attempts. Lupin’s mind wandered. It was an interesting story and he had been utterly absorbed in the tale the first time he heard it. However Lupin had now heard the convoluted tale, embroidered with Wormwood’s baffling vocabulary, at least three times from Wormwood himself, plus a more concise version of events from Lucretia. Lupin wondered whether Wormwood would include the bits about Lucretia, such as the precision of her knifework as she helped him prepare ingredients, or the way she closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she sniffed each batch of the potion, identifying what he’d got wrong and what he’d got right. Knowing Wormwood, he’d leave no detail unmentioned.

By the time Wormwood had finished his story, Snape was enthralled enough to agree to visit the Institute and observe the preparation the next day, before realising what he’d agreed to. But within minutes of his student leaving, Snape was panicking again.

“What was I thinking? I don’t want to go anywhere. People will… I’ll… They’ll…”

“What are you afraid of, Severus?”

Lupin’s voice was measured and calm.

“I… think I’ll panic.”

“And then what will happen?”

“What?”

“What will happen if you panic?”

Snape looked incredulously at Lupin.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Severus, you’ve panicked here sometimes, haven’t you?”

Snape dropped his head.

“Yes.”

“And what’s happened then.”

Snape was silent for some time, before responding in a small voice. It was still Severus and not Sevvy, but Lupin could hear the frightened child that Snape had once been in the way he spoke. It was almost a whisper, and almost a whimper, and yet neither. When that voice appeared, Snape sounded utterly lost and vulnerable.

“Well, sometimes I get stuck and become Sevvy. And sometimes… you calm me down.”

“Yes, I think that’s about right. So, if we went to the Institute, and you panicked and became Sevvy, what would happen?”

Snape appeared to see an invisible mark on his robe, and began to pick at it.

“I… Wormwood would… see.”

Lupin nodded.

“And then what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he would mind? He didn’t mind that you didn’t remember him. And Lucretia saw you when you were Sevvy. And so did Hagrid. Nothing bad happened.”

Snape looked confused, but he nodded slowly in response.

“We would only go to the Institute. I can apparate you from the lane to the Institute’s entrance. It’s not crowded, most of the staff are with the creatures and the potions lab is well out of their way.”

“You can do that? You always seem to have Harry or Andromeda take you places.”

“If it’s not a bad day, I can. I couldn’t apparate to London, but the Institute’s just up on the moor. Only thing is, I’m not allowed to go out alone. I… I’m only allowed to leave the property if accompanied by someone who is not a werewolf. That’s the rule for werewolves now.”

“Didn’t Wormwood come alone?”

“Well, yes. But Lucretia and Wormwood brew and deliver the Wolfsbane potion for most of Britain’s werewolves, and the Ministry won’t dare touch them because they’d have to find another source. It’s a… complicated relationship between the Ministry and the Institute.”

Lupin paused. Complicated was something of an understatement. Uneasy truce was a better description.

“So, if I went – if – who would I have to see?’

“Well, Wormwood. And Lucretia would want to see you just to check you’re okay. That would save her a trip here. Probably nobody else. Maybe a house elf. Maybe the Institute’s director, but I don’t think he’d mind if I said you weren’t up to it. The werewolf children might want to see me, as they haven’t seen much of me lately. But I also thought that Andromeda could come too, and bring Teddy and Grimmy. The children are always much more interested in playing with Teddy than seeing me, and there’s no reason that they’d want to bother you. So mostly we could just stay in the potions lab and watch Wormwood.”

Snape sat, looking at his hands, before finally raising his eyes to meet Lupin’s.

“I think I could manage that. To have a chance to see the Postlune made.”

Lupin nodded and gave a warm smile, noticing the faintest hint of a smile from Snape in response.

The stone walls surrounding the Arcadia Dragondale Institute for the Study and Care of Magical Creatures left no doubt that they concealed something very dangerous indeed. They were more than two metres high and the stones bristled with wards. Snape noticed that Lupin gave them a rather wide berth as he moved his chair to the black iron gates. Teddy was on Lupin’s lap, Andromeda had a bag of apples from the orchard and Snape had Grimmy on a leash. As they approached, the gates opened, and then closed behind them with a clang. Nobody met them, and they crunched down the gravel drive, heading towards the largest of the scattered stone buildings.

“Make sure that Grimmy stays on the path”, Lupin said, as Grimmy started trying to drag Snape off the gravel. “The director brought some Siberian fire flovs back from the tundra.”

Snape looked across the broad sweep of manicured lawn, spotted with small mounds of dirt, each surrounded by a scorch mark.

“Fire flovs?”

Snape knew Siberian flovs, of course. Anyone who knew how to set a ward knew about Siberian flovs. Introduced to Britain in the previous century for their soft, warm fur, they had rapidly become a magical pest. They dug into the ground near where buildings were warded, and stole the magical protection of the wards to protect their burrows. A memory came to him of a furry face, rather like a rat although a little larger, peering at him only inches from his nose.

“They come from further north than the common Siberian flov. Less damaging on wards but a hazard in other ways. They’re possibly the only pyrogenic mammal. Apparently it’s an adaptation to living underground in permafrost.”

“I see. The director, he’s not a relative of Hagrid, is he?”

“Relative, no. Kindred spirit, undoubtedly. He’s a dragon man, and so of course he was just fascinated with the fire flovs.”

“I hope Hagrid never finds out about them. He’ll sneak them into the school and Hogwarts surely doesn’t need a population of fire-breathing mammals.”

“Severus, they don’t breathe fire…” Lupin raised his eyebrow and Snape’s eyes widened. “And Hagrid’s not trying to sneak them into the school. He’s got permission from Minerva.”

“What?”

“Apparently he convinced her that there’s nothing better to spark the interest of adolescents in the Care of Magical Creatures than fire-farting rodents.”

“Flovs aren’t rodents, Lupin.”

Snape found himself the recipient of one of the werewolf’s smiles. As he warmed inside, he wondered what he had done to prompt it.

“I think you’ll like it here, Severus.”

As they stepped into the shadow of the building, Snape felt the chill. Where the sun had yet to reach, there was frost still on the ground. He shivered, but there was something reassuring in the gloom of an imposing stone building. Although far from a castle, the Institute had a familiar feeling of permanence and solidity. It was a building with history, secrets and ghosts. It felt like home.

“Welcome, I’m so glad you came, Professor Snape.”

Snape gave a small start and turned to see Wormwood appearing around the side of the building. The young man’s face burst into a smile and he looked so delighted that Snape feared he might get hugged.

“I’m not your professor any more, Wormwood.”

“Of course not sir, of course not.”

Wormwood ushered them away from the main entrance and down some narrow steps at the side of the building.

“It’s quieter this way. I’ll escort you through to the potions laboratory sir, then take Andromeda, Teddy and Grimmy up to the wolf garden.”

“Wolf garden?”

“It’s where the werewolves transform, a walled and warded garden. It’s positively delightful. The children are up there. They’ll be so thrilled to see Teddy and Grimmy. And there are no fire flovs either, so Grimmy can be unfettered.”

The corridor was dark and chilly, with a cold stone floor and a smell of damp. Snape took a deep breath, the icy air catching at his throat and flooding his mind with images. He stopped, his body tensing, and he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

“Severus?”

He closed his eyes tightly, controlling his breath. The hand slid across his back and to his other arm, holding him, steadying him.

“Memories”, he said.

“Just take your time, it’s okay.”

After a few moments he opened his eyes, and nodded without looking at any of the people around him. They moved on, down the murky corridor, until they stopped at the entrance to the lab.

“I’ll just deliver the others up to the wolf garden, I don’t want Teddy and Grimmy in the laboratory. You and Remus enter. There’s an alcove off the laboratory, the house elves will bring you tea there. Make yourself comfortable sir, but please no unnecessary magic and no food or drink outside the alcove, ok?”

Snape watched Wormwood as he walked down the corridor with an excited Teddy in his arms, Andromeda and Grimmy beside him. Something in the man’s words struck him as significant. An image of a cup of black coffee came to him. He was stirring sugar in with a metal stirring rod, a particularly elegant one with runes engraved along its length. A boy of about twelve was looking at him disapprovingly.

“Mother says we mustn’t eat or drink in the laboratory. That’s how potions get contaminated and potion makers poisoned. The last thing you stirred with that rod was Veratiserum.”

Snape had bristled at being corrected by a child, but the brat had been right. He’d had too many late nights alone in the lab and had become careless. But there was a feeling stronger than annoyance. It had been more than a week since he’d made Veratiserum, but the boy had remembered the exact rod, even though it was nearly identical to twenty other rods he had, apart from the runes and the fact that the metal contained trace amounts of antimony. He was impressed.

“Over here, Severus.”

Snape realised suddenly that Lupin’s hand was still on his arm, directing him to the alcove where there was a sofa, low table and a couple of chairs.

“I remember Wormwood, Lupin. I remember the little brat telling me off for drinking coffee in the lab – my lab – at Hogwarts. He was probably about twelve.”

Lupin stopped and turned to Snape, amusement on his face.

“That must have been… interesting.”

“I… it’s strange. I don’t remember being angry about it.”

Lupin nodded.

“That may be right. Wormwood was your favourite student. Filius once told me that Wormwood could get away with saying things to you that nobody else would get away with. If anyone could get away with telling you what to do in a potions lab, it would have been Wormwood.”

Snape began to look alarmed again.

“Filius? I don’t…”

“It’s alright, Severus. One of your teaching colleagues. It will come back.”

The hand on his arm guided him gently to the sofa. He sat down and looked at Lupin, who had no need to sit, being seated already in his chair. A house elf appeared with tea, milk, sugar and biscuits on a tray.

“Hello Blossom.”

“Hello, Mr Remus.”

The house elf gave Lupin a big smile. She was by far the ugliest house elf Snape had ever seen, or at least he remembered. She had hard eyes, a piggy nose and hairy moles on her chin. Half her face appeared to have melted. She was also wearing a knitted jersey and skirt in wild patterns and colours that Albus himself would have considered garish. She turned her beady eyes onto Snape and her expression suddenly shifted to a fierce scowl.

“It’s rude to stare”, snapped the elf, and Snape jerked backwards in surprise.

“I… I…”

“I believe the word you are looking for is ‘sorry’”, she added, her tone not any kinder.

Lupin moved his hand back to Snape’s arm.

“Blossom”, Lupin said, warning in his tone.

The house elf turned and scowled at him.

“And what is Mr Remus preferring Blossom is saying? Oh, Blossom is so sorry for offending sirs’ eyes with her hideousness. Blossom must punish herself. Blossom is to be gouging her eye out or pouring boiling water over her head. Or perhaps sirs would prefer if Blossom is cutting off her own limbs?”

With a pop, the abrasive house elf disappeared.

“I’m sorry about that, Severus”, Lupin said. “Blossom can be a little defensive.

Snape closed his eyes. He felt the tightness in his chest and the swirling in his mind. Upset by a bad-tempered house elf, how pathetic he was. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then felt Lupin’s hand gently rub his arm.

“Severus, it’s alright.”

He opened his eyes and saw Lupin’s warm eye on him. Lupin gave him a small smile.

“Blossom’s a good elf, really, but she’s... not easy. Blossom’s owner really did force her to pour boiling water over herself as a punishment, before giving her an old shirt. The Institute rescues elves which have been badly mistreated or otherwise discarded. Some, like Blossom, are still both willing and able to work, but it’s not a requirement for them.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend her.”

“I know, Severus, it’s not your fault. I should have warned you about the elves here.”

There was a pop, and Blossom reappeared. She cautiously approached.

“Blossom is being sorry. Blossom is not meaning to upset sirs.”

“That’s alright Blossom,” Lupin replied. “Is that a new jersey? Margaret’s getting quite inventive. Is that a… blast-ended skrewt on the front?”

The elf grinned ruefully.

“Shame is upon you, Mr Remus, sir. It is being a lesser spotted Caledonian dragon. Your glasses is needing checking. Sir.”

Despite himself, Snape found himself supressing a smile. The front of the jersey was patterned with an explosion of orange and yellow, with something brown and blotchy beside it, all on a bright blue background. The accompanying skirt was green with purple blobs.

“And the skirt is being aconite flowers.”

“Margaret is one of the resident werewolves,” Lupin said. “She’s, er, rather keen on knitting. She’s taken on the role of dressmaker for the house elves.”

Snape opened his mouth then closed it again, not quite trusting himself to speak. The elf turned her beady eyes to him again, but to his relief they were rather less hostile.

“And you is being Mr Professor Snape. Blossom is pleased to meet Mr Wormwood’s teacher. Blossom is hearing lots about Mr Professor. In fact Blossom is being grateful that Mr Wormwood now has something he is talking about apart from potions and Healer Temple. Mr Wormwood is being very kind to Blossom, but his talk is most boring.”

The elf gave an alarming smile and disappeared again before Snape could respond.

“Are… all the elves here like Blossom?”

“Oh, she’s one of the best, a bit volatile but she’s enthusiastic and, well, she does have a lovely sense of humour. Some of the elves hate wizards so much that you really don’t want to be around them.”

Lupin began awkwardly trying to pour the tea, with one hand and without rising from his seat. Snape took over, relieved that pouring tea excused him from having to say anything. The memories inside his head were swirling and nothing was coherent. He’d come here to try and remember, and now he was seeing everything and nothing at once.

Snape had drunk half of his tea and was feeling a little calmer when Wormwood returned. The young werewolf picked up a pile of parchment and carried it across to Snape.

“Sir, I’ve copied out my notes for making the Postlune. I will need to concentrate, although I’ve been making it for a some months, it’s uncommonly intricate. If you have any questions, I hope that the notes will suffice until I conclude. Please don’t interrupt.”

Snape, nodded, starting to feel nervous about somehow causing a problem with the potion. He said nothing.

“Any questions, sir?”

“How long does it take to brew?”

“An hour at this stage. I’ve done the ingredient preparation over the last two days, this is the combination step, which is undoubtedly the most absorbing. After that it needs to simmer for the remainder of the day while I prepare further three batches and then all will be cooled outside in the moonlight, but those steps aren’t particularly interesting to watch. I won’t expect you to stay for all four iterations or the cooling process.”

Snape looked at the young man’s face. The voice was serious, the expression earnest, the brown eyes innocent. Maybe just a little too innocent. Then Snape suddenly noticed the man’s mouth twitch just slightly and he saw a younger version of the same face in his mind. It had same earnest expression, the eyes once again just a little too innocent.

“You’re out of newt eyes, sir,” the boy had said. “And you’re getting low on manticore hair and cockatrice feathers. You should order more directly.”

He’d returned from teaching the second years – bloody Longbottom had blown up not just one but two cauldrons – to find his private lab bench covered with dirty cauldrons and open jars. Wormwood had a library book open in front of him. How he’d got that particular book from the restricted section Snape didn’t want to know. He felt annoyance rising up within him but, instead of yelling and docking house points, he’d just looked into the cauldron in front of Wormwood and snapped at him for overstirring the gloopy mess, telling him to be more careful next time he attempted it. The boy had nodded and walked off from the bench with a cheery “see you later sir, don’t want to be tardy for transfiguration”.

At that affront, he really had thought he’d explode. Then, as he saw the boy staring back with those wide eyes, he remembered what day it was.

“Wormwood, it’s Wednesday today. You have transfiguration on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I believe.”

Wormwood had looked smug then. Snape had actually nearly believed that his brilliant student would leave his mess behind in the lab. The boy might use up his ingredients without a second thought, but he’d always note down what he’d used and would never leave a messy bench. He had that same expression now, waiting to see whether Snape would think he was expected to watch the potion simmer for hours

“Thank you for your consideration, Wormwood,” Snape replied, rewarding the werewolf with a slight smirk.

“If you wish to observe more closely, you may, but please keep a three metre radius. I’ll be using a bubble-headed charm to protect myself from the fumes. Right, are you sufficiently prepared?”

Snape stood up and walked to where he could see the bench, but not too close, before nodding to tell Wormwood to begin.

Within minutes, Snape’s mind was empty of everything except the potion. Wormwood worked precisely and confidently, introducing the ingredients in pairs while his eyes flicked up regularly to a large clock on the wall. The clock watched him back, occasionally prompting him to hurry up or slow down, always in calm, soothing tones. Dried death caps were placed in a copper infuser with aconite flowers, crushed orpiment sprinkled over the cauldron with ground precatory beans, swollen ergot grains were mashed in the mortar with drops of basilisk venom. The cauldron steamed and Wormwood raised his wand.

“Back a little, please.”

Snape stepped back – he hadn’t realised he was leaning forward and getting rather closer than he should have – and watched as Wormwood brought the flame up and the cauldron began to boil. Wormwood’s lips began to move, and Snape could hear snatches of an ancient incantation in middle English. Then the flames were brought down, and Wormwood began to stir with a golden spoon, dropping petals of henbane and hellebore alternately onto the surface of the dark liquid in the cauldron. Snape leaned closer again, watching as more pairs of ingredients were added, as the flames rose up and down, as the potion steamed and boiled and calmed again.

Finally Wormwood looked up at the clock. He chanted again – this time Latin – and lowered the flame to a bare minimum.

“That’s that over, sir. Now it has to simmer until moonrise.”

Snape felt himself jolted back as if he was being woken from sleep. The lab around him seemed suddenly bright. He turned to Lupin, suddenly feeling exposed, and slightly guilty, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“It looks like you were completely absorbed, Severus. Good to be in a lab again?”

Snape blinked, words evading him.

“I think you’re tired though, come and sit down. What about you, Wormwood, can you join us for tea?”

“I’ll just clean up and join you.”

At the magic words “clean up” and “tea”, Blossom reappeared with a tray, placing it down on the table before bustling off to join Wormwood as he tidied up jars and bowls on the bench.

“Mr Wormwood is to be speaking to his guests. Blossom is to be cleaning up today.”

“This is excessively toxic, Blossom.”

“Blossom is knowing that. Blossom is knowing exactly what is going into Postlune. Sir is to be letting Blossom do her job. Or Blossom is getting cross with sir for thinking she is not knowing how to clean a cauldron safely.”

She gave him a fierce look, and Wormwood looked a little alarmed. He immediately passed her the cauldron, which she carried off to a low sink. She gave a snort and began to scrub energetically, muttering audibly so that the men could hear her.

“As if Blossom doesn’t know to use a barrier charm.” Snort. “As if Blossom doesn’t know to add Flobberworm slime to the water.” Snort. “As if Blossom doesn’t know to do the final rinse with heptopus ink.”

Lupin and Snape both watched the performance with some amusement. Lupin had heard that the smart little elf had become Wormwood’s devoted assistant after he made a particularly good scar-softening salve, but he’d never seen it in action.

“So, Professor Snape, what were your thoughts on the Postlune potion?”

“I’m not your professor anymore, Wormwood.”

“You know, you keep repeating that sir.” Wormwood looked puzzled, his head tilted to one side.

“Well, you keep calling me “Professor Snape.”

“And…?” Wormwood looked hard at Snape for a moment. “Oh, did you mean you wanted me to address you in some other way?”

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed.

“That was the idea, yes.”

“Ah, now I comprehend. You may have forgotten sir, but sometimes I don’t always understand you. You’re a bit abstruse at times.”

Snape rolled his eyes again.

“Yes, I’m abstruse”, he said, his sarcasm returning. “Nothing to do with you having a complete inability to understand anything that can’t be stirred into a cauldron.”

“Exactly sir”, Wormwood said brightly. “But I don’t mind. You do remember me somewhat now, don’t you? I can tell.”

“I find I remember you rather well, actually. Being in the lab… it has brought things back. Lots of things.”

Snape looked down at his hands and then up again, finding himself the subject of scrutiny by, not one, but two delighted werewolves.

“I think I’m getting tired now. Lupin, do you think we could go soon?”

“Lucretia will probably give you a quick once over, but we can go after that if you want. Andromeda can bring Teddy back when she’s ready.”

“Will you come back sir? There are more potions I would be delighted to show you.”

“Thank you, Wormwood, yes, I would like that very much.”

Once again Wormwood looked so delighted that Snape feared he would be hugged, and this time he was correct.