Loose ends chapter 35 - confined
Mar. 10th, 2017 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coriariaIn the aftermath of the full moon, Lupin talks to Snape. Angst, reference to child abuse and minor character death (slight AU as Lupin's father is killed during Lupin's childhood). PG.
This is a work of fan fiction. The world and all recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling (apart from references to Dr Seuss) and I make no claim or profit etc
Confined
Snape returned the next day. He’d slept poorly, haunted by images of the convulsing Lupin, the sick Wormwood, the tiny form of Thomas weeping in his arms. He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind of Lupin at that age. So he walked Grimmy, read to Teddy and had lunch with Andromeda, making a dismal effort at polite conversation.
“What’s on your mind, Severus?”
He gave a rather minimal shrug.
“Remus?”
He tried a glare, but couldn’t summon the energy, and just looked at her with a mournful expression.
“I think he’d like it if you went and talked with him. He’s been feeling rotten for days, he was sick enough before the full moon. He so appreciated your kindness yesterday.”
“I don’t want his gratitude.”
Andromeda gave him a sad smile.
“I know, dear. But, please talk to him anyway. Your friendship means a lot to him. And I think he’s feeling rather alone right now.”
Snape walked the familiar steps to Lupin’s room. He wanted to see him, and yet he didn’t. He hated the powerlessness of seeing a sick and depressed Lupin and being able to do nothing.
“Severus?”
Lupin called his name in response to Snape’s gentle knock.
“Lupin,” he said as he walked into the room.
The werewolf was short of breath and bathed in sweat, strands of hair clinging to his face. When he got closer, Snape could see he was shaking.
“Do you have a fever? Is it post-Cruciatus?”
“No… no, I’m fine.”
Snape gave a skeptical snort.
“I… tried to get to my chair. Thought it might be nice to be out of bed. That turned out to be… more difficult than I anticipated.”
"May I help?”
“Probably no point. I got as far as sitting up and felt far too dizzy.”
“Then at least let me clean you up. I’m pretty good on cleaning spells, you know?”
That earned him a weak smile, and Lupin gave a nod of agreement. Snape cast the charms and resisted the urge to brush the hair away from Lupin’s face with his fingers.
“Sit down, Severus. Tell me about the children. How are they?
Snape began to talk about the children. His children, as he’d started to think of them. He’d discovered, to his surprise, that he could talk about them for some time with very little encouragement. It was slightly embarrassing, but not enough to make him stop.
“How did it go when Clarridge and Anita came?”
Lupin finally managed to get a word in.
“They were a great help, thank you so much for suggesting Anita come along with Clarridge. She was great, the way she talked with the children. I think particularly Sara and Thomas. Everything they’ve ever known has been turned on its head, and that must be terrifying, but they never talk about it. Thomas, especially. He’s so young. He must have been a similar age to you when you were turned.”
Lupin looked away. Snape felt his face begin to burn at his own stupidity. Somehow his mouth was running ahead of his brain.
Then Lupin looked back, meeting his eyes. Snape saw a flash of defensiveness, and thought he had overstepped the mark. Lupin, for all that he was so dependent on others for his physical care, rarely let himself be seen as emotionally vulnerable – especially not regarding his lycanthropy. Snape readied himself to apologise, but then Lupin dropped his head, his body slumping as if he no longer could be bothered holding himself upright.
“I was five. It was terrifying. My father was angry and silent… and my mother… she just kept crying whenever she looked at me. I didn’t know what was going on, except that I had the most awful nightmares and sometimes felt so ill. And I couldn’t understand why they kept locking me in the basement.”
For a moment, Lupin couldn’t keep a trace of bitterness from his voice. Then he buried it again, he wasn’t going to let his pain show.
“But things got better. My parents were determined it wouldn’t ruin my life. My father got less angry and my mother less weepy. I was still ill a lot, and the nightmares… if I saw a dog, I’d scream… even if it was just a little one…
“We had a neighbour, one of the places we lived, who had a dog, a big black labrador. I don’t think my parents would have moved there if they’d realised. But… well the neighbour was very patient, and the dog was… lovely. I learned something from that, that it was possible to overcome my fears.”
Lupin gave another weak smile and looked fondly at the dog which was sprawled on its mat beside his bed.
“After that, my father contacted Albus. I was still quite young, maybe eight or nine, but he asked whether there was any chance of me ever attending Hogwarts, what he could do to make that possible. I can remember Albus coming to visit, and my father taking him down to the basement where I transformed.”
A faint trace of emotion flickered across Lupin’s face.
“I’ll be forever grateful that my father contacted Albus when he did. If he hadn’t…”
Lupin let the sentence fade, his eyes distant.
“I don’t want to think what my life would have been if I hadn’t gone to Hogwarts. If I didn’t have the chance to learn what I learned there, to make friends, to escape my father’s family…”
Snape wondered how to respond. This was unlike Lupin. He let people see him sick and weak and vulnerable, and he asked them for help, but he didn’t talk about the past. He barely mentioned his dead wife or the friends he had lost in two wars. He never mentioned the loneliness and the isolation he had endured as a result of his condition. Snape had begun to wonder whether it was a reaction to being so dependent physically, that he felt he had to prove himself emotionally strong. On the other hand, perhaps he was just so used to hiding his true nature that it never crossed his mind to be open.
Finally Snape spoke.
“Lupin, are you alright?”
Lupin looked down at his left hand, which gripped the blanket on his bed.
“My father died when I was nine. I went on living with my mother, but she had to send me to… relatives… at the full moon. It… wasn’t pleasant.”
Snape realised that Lupin was fighting tears. He reached out his hand and grasped the man’s arm.
“What happened, Lupin?” Snape asked quietly.
Lupin sat very still, looking down at Snape’s hand on his arm.
“Greyback came back. Clearly he hadn’t punished my father enough, because the Ministry was having another look at the lycanthropy laws. Even if my father had nothing to do with it... This time, he left me alone – I was locked in the basement anyway. My mother was with her sister – she sometimes went away around the full moon, she got too… it got too much for her.”
Lupin let out a long breath.
“He killed my father. Ripped him to pieces. I don’t remember anything, but I must have known something was wrong, because when I came to I had absolutely destroyed the basement. My finger and toenails were shredded, my mouth bleeding and full of splinters. And my father didn’t come to release me. I was down there two days… my mother had been staying away quite a bit anyway and my father’s employees knew they might not see him for a day or two after the full moon. So nobody came. Finally I remember some people from the Ministry coming and taking me away. I remember the whole house smelled of death. They wouldn’t let me see my father, but there was blood everywhere.”
The words seemed to tumble from him, suddenly released after being so long confined. Still he didn’t cry.
“My mother and I stayed with her sister and her family. They were… fine I suppose, but I could see my mother look at them and… wishing she’d had a nice muggle husband and nice muggle children who weren’t monsters. And at around the full moon… she told her sister that I needed to spend time with my father’s family, so I went to my uncle’s for a few days every month…
“They didn’t want me, my uncle and father hadn’t got on for some time. And my uncle certainly didn’t want someone like me around his wife and children. I stayed out of their way as much as I could, and they left me alone. They found an old barn with a secure cellar, it was in the middle of nowhere where nobody would hear. They didn’t even want to be seen taking me there or picking me up, so they took me the night before, when it was dark, and didn’t pick me up until the night after the full moon. It was cold and damp down there, not much space. I’m claustrophobic to this day. The Shrieking Shack may have seemed horrible, but it was a joy after that cellar.”
“But in the holidays, you had to go back there? Dumbledore sent you back to that?”
Lupin looked up at him, a trace of surprise on his face, and gave a brief nod.
“He sent Harry back to the Dursleys,” Lupin replied softly. “He sent you back.”
Snape met Lupin’s eyes. It hurt him to admit it, but Lupin was right. Dumbledore had sent them all back to desperately miserable homes. Snape couldn’t bear to think ill of his mentor, the man who was more parent to him than either of his own, but he had repeatedly turned a blind eye to the suffering of the children in his care.
“Lupin, I don’t know what to say.”
“There isn’t anything. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, it’s pointless to dwell.”
“That’s not what I meant, Lupin. I mean that I wish there was something I could say that would help, make you feel better.”
Lupin shrugged one shoulder, dismissing Snape’s concern, but Snape wasn’t going to let go, however clumsy his attempts at comfort. Lupin was the one who had been there for him in some of his darkest times but, he realised, right now Lupin needed somebody there for him. He put both his hands on Lupin’s shoulders, looked into the blue eyes, still with the rim of amber that appeared around the full moon.
“Don’t dismiss this, Lupin. What you experienced was horrific. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
Lupin looked away. He gave a sigh.
“I don’t know why, but the nightmares are worse than usual. I’m not sleeping much. I think that’s why I’ve been so ill, the post-Cruciatus so bad.”
“Does Andromeda know? Or Harry?”
Lupin shook his head.
“I can’t,” he said. “I already ask so much. I’ve learned… it’s not a good idea to ask too much of people, to be too dependent. There’s a line, people like to feel needed, but if you need too much from them… it drives them away. It’s hard to tell where that line falls… I don’t want to cross it.”
Lupin’s voice had become quiet.
“And it just doesn’t seem fair to burden them with this when there’s nothing to be done.”
Lupin looked up at Snape sadly, and sighed.
“I’m sorry, it’s not fair to you either, there’s nothing you can do, so there’s no point in me complaining.”
“I can listen, Lupin.”
Snape paused and corrected himself.
“Remus. It does help to have someone to listen. I’ve seen that when you’ve listened to me.”
Lupin nodded slowly.
“Please, would you just hug me?”
Snape nodded and reached out, wrapping the shaking werewolf in his arms. He tried not to think about just how right it felt to have the bony frame pressed against his body, to feel the sharp ridges of Lupin’s spine and ribs under his fingers, and the warm breath against his neck.
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
Confined
Snape returned the next day. He’d slept poorly, haunted by images of the convulsing Lupin, the sick Wormwood, the tiny form of Thomas weeping in his arms. He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind of Lupin at that age. So he walked Grimmy, read to Teddy and had lunch with Andromeda, making a dismal effort at polite conversation.
“What’s on your mind, Severus?”
He gave a rather minimal shrug.
“Remus?”
He tried a glare, but couldn’t summon the energy, and just looked at her with a mournful expression.
“I think he’d like it if you went and talked with him. He’s been feeling rotten for days, he was sick enough before the full moon. He so appreciated your kindness yesterday.”
“I don’t want his gratitude.”
Andromeda gave him a sad smile.
“I know, dear. But, please talk to him anyway. Your friendship means a lot to him. And I think he’s feeling rather alone right now.”
Snape walked the familiar steps to Lupin’s room. He wanted to see him, and yet he didn’t. He hated the powerlessness of seeing a sick and depressed Lupin and being able to do nothing.
“Severus?”
Lupin called his name in response to Snape’s gentle knock.
“Lupin,” he said as he walked into the room.
The werewolf was short of breath and bathed in sweat, strands of hair clinging to his face. When he got closer, Snape could see he was shaking.
“Do you have a fever? Is it post-Cruciatus?”
“No… no, I’m fine.”
Snape gave a skeptical snort.
“I… tried to get to my chair. Thought it might be nice to be out of bed. That turned out to be… more difficult than I anticipated.”
"May I help?”
“Probably no point. I got as far as sitting up and felt far too dizzy.”
“Then at least let me clean you up. I’m pretty good on cleaning spells, you know?”
That earned him a weak smile, and Lupin gave a nod of agreement. Snape cast the charms and resisted the urge to brush the hair away from Lupin’s face with his fingers.
“Sit down, Severus. Tell me about the children. How are they?
Snape began to talk about the children. His children, as he’d started to think of them. He’d discovered, to his surprise, that he could talk about them for some time with very little encouragement. It was slightly embarrassing, but not enough to make him stop.
“How did it go when Clarridge and Anita came?”
Lupin finally managed to get a word in.
“They were a great help, thank you so much for suggesting Anita come along with Clarridge. She was great, the way she talked with the children. I think particularly Sara and Thomas. Everything they’ve ever known has been turned on its head, and that must be terrifying, but they never talk about it. Thomas, especially. He’s so young. He must have been a similar age to you when you were turned.”
Lupin looked away. Snape felt his face begin to burn at his own stupidity. Somehow his mouth was running ahead of his brain.
Then Lupin looked back, meeting his eyes. Snape saw a flash of defensiveness, and thought he had overstepped the mark. Lupin, for all that he was so dependent on others for his physical care, rarely let himself be seen as emotionally vulnerable – especially not regarding his lycanthropy. Snape readied himself to apologise, but then Lupin dropped his head, his body slumping as if he no longer could be bothered holding himself upright.
“I was five. It was terrifying. My father was angry and silent… and my mother… she just kept crying whenever she looked at me. I didn’t know what was going on, except that I had the most awful nightmares and sometimes felt so ill. And I couldn’t understand why they kept locking me in the basement.”
For a moment, Lupin couldn’t keep a trace of bitterness from his voice. Then he buried it again, he wasn’t going to let his pain show.
“But things got better. My parents were determined it wouldn’t ruin my life. My father got less angry and my mother less weepy. I was still ill a lot, and the nightmares… if I saw a dog, I’d scream… even if it was just a little one…
“We had a neighbour, one of the places we lived, who had a dog, a big black labrador. I don’t think my parents would have moved there if they’d realised. But… well the neighbour was very patient, and the dog was… lovely. I learned something from that, that it was possible to overcome my fears.”
Lupin gave another weak smile and looked fondly at the dog which was sprawled on its mat beside his bed.
“After that, my father contacted Albus. I was still quite young, maybe eight or nine, but he asked whether there was any chance of me ever attending Hogwarts, what he could do to make that possible. I can remember Albus coming to visit, and my father taking him down to the basement where I transformed.”
A faint trace of emotion flickered across Lupin’s face.
“I’ll be forever grateful that my father contacted Albus when he did. If he hadn’t…”
Lupin let the sentence fade, his eyes distant.
“I don’t want to think what my life would have been if I hadn’t gone to Hogwarts. If I didn’t have the chance to learn what I learned there, to make friends, to escape my father’s family…”
Snape wondered how to respond. This was unlike Lupin. He let people see him sick and weak and vulnerable, and he asked them for help, but he didn’t talk about the past. He barely mentioned his dead wife or the friends he had lost in two wars. He never mentioned the loneliness and the isolation he had endured as a result of his condition. Snape had begun to wonder whether it was a reaction to being so dependent physically, that he felt he had to prove himself emotionally strong. On the other hand, perhaps he was just so used to hiding his true nature that it never crossed his mind to be open.
Finally Snape spoke.
“Lupin, are you alright?”
Lupin looked down at his left hand, which gripped the blanket on his bed.
“My father died when I was nine. I went on living with my mother, but she had to send me to… relatives… at the full moon. It… wasn’t pleasant.”
Snape realised that Lupin was fighting tears. He reached out his hand and grasped the man’s arm.
“What happened, Lupin?” Snape asked quietly.
Lupin sat very still, looking down at Snape’s hand on his arm.
“Greyback came back. Clearly he hadn’t punished my father enough, because the Ministry was having another look at the lycanthropy laws. Even if my father had nothing to do with it... This time, he left me alone – I was locked in the basement anyway. My mother was with her sister – she sometimes went away around the full moon, she got too… it got too much for her.”
Lupin let out a long breath.
“He killed my father. Ripped him to pieces. I don’t remember anything, but I must have known something was wrong, because when I came to I had absolutely destroyed the basement. My finger and toenails were shredded, my mouth bleeding and full of splinters. And my father didn’t come to release me. I was down there two days… my mother had been staying away quite a bit anyway and my father’s employees knew they might not see him for a day or two after the full moon. So nobody came. Finally I remember some people from the Ministry coming and taking me away. I remember the whole house smelled of death. They wouldn’t let me see my father, but there was blood everywhere.”
The words seemed to tumble from him, suddenly released after being so long confined. Still he didn’t cry.
“My mother and I stayed with her sister and her family. They were… fine I suppose, but I could see my mother look at them and… wishing she’d had a nice muggle husband and nice muggle children who weren’t monsters. And at around the full moon… she told her sister that I needed to spend time with my father’s family, so I went to my uncle’s for a few days every month…
“They didn’t want me, my uncle and father hadn’t got on for some time. And my uncle certainly didn’t want someone like me around his wife and children. I stayed out of their way as much as I could, and they left me alone. They found an old barn with a secure cellar, it was in the middle of nowhere where nobody would hear. They didn’t even want to be seen taking me there or picking me up, so they took me the night before, when it was dark, and didn’t pick me up until the night after the full moon. It was cold and damp down there, not much space. I’m claustrophobic to this day. The Shrieking Shack may have seemed horrible, but it was a joy after that cellar.”
“But in the holidays, you had to go back there? Dumbledore sent you back to that?”
Lupin looked up at him, a trace of surprise on his face, and gave a brief nod.
“He sent Harry back to the Dursleys,” Lupin replied softly. “He sent you back.”
Snape met Lupin’s eyes. It hurt him to admit it, but Lupin was right. Dumbledore had sent them all back to desperately miserable homes. Snape couldn’t bear to think ill of his mentor, the man who was more parent to him than either of his own, but he had repeatedly turned a blind eye to the suffering of the children in his care.
“Lupin, I don’t know what to say.”
“There isn’t anything. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, it’s pointless to dwell.”
“That’s not what I meant, Lupin. I mean that I wish there was something I could say that would help, make you feel better.”
Lupin shrugged one shoulder, dismissing Snape’s concern, but Snape wasn’t going to let go, however clumsy his attempts at comfort. Lupin was the one who had been there for him in some of his darkest times but, he realised, right now Lupin needed somebody there for him. He put both his hands on Lupin’s shoulders, looked into the blue eyes, still with the rim of amber that appeared around the full moon.
“Don’t dismiss this, Lupin. What you experienced was horrific. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
Lupin looked away. He gave a sigh.
“I don’t know why, but the nightmares are worse than usual. I’m not sleeping much. I think that’s why I’ve been so ill, the post-Cruciatus so bad.”
“Does Andromeda know? Or Harry?”
Lupin shook his head.
“I can’t,” he said. “I already ask so much. I’ve learned… it’s not a good idea to ask too much of people, to be too dependent. There’s a line, people like to feel needed, but if you need too much from them… it drives them away. It’s hard to tell where that line falls… I don’t want to cross it.”
Lupin’s voice had become quiet.
“And it just doesn’t seem fair to burden them with this when there’s nothing to be done.”
Lupin looked up at Snape sadly, and sighed.
“I’m sorry, it’s not fair to you either, there’s nothing you can do, so there’s no point in me complaining.”
“I can listen, Lupin.”
Snape paused and corrected himself.
“Remus. It does help to have someone to listen. I’ve seen that when you’ve listened to me.”
Lupin nodded slowly.
“Please, would you just hug me?”
Snape nodded and reached out, wrapping the shaking werewolf in his arms. He tried not to think about just how right it felt to have the bony frame pressed against his body, to feel the sharp ridges of Lupin’s spine and ribs under his fingers, and the warm breath against his neck.
