Loose ends chapter 36 - Vampire's venom
Mar. 12th, 2017 10:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coriariaSnape remembers a younger, healthier Lupin and realises what he needs to do. PG.
Vampire’s venom
Lupin haunted his mind again that night. Snape tried to sleep, but when he closed his eyes, he kept picturing the boy Lupin, the awkward, timid child he remembered from first year, alone and crying, locked in a cramped cellar and covered in blood. He tried to tell himself that it was all in the past, but then he saw the weak, exhausted Lupin, a sheen of sweat across his face and a blank look in his eyes as he tried to distance himself from the pain. Lupin’s present seemed barely better.
He climbed out of bed and stalked along the corridor to the lab, where he found Wormwood with his arm in a tankful of water, delicately prising a snail from its rock.
“Couldn’t sleep either, sir?”
Snape nodded, not in the mood to discuss potion making. Or, for that matter, to listen to a monologue.
“Thomas had a nightmare and awoke us all. Lucretia’s got them settled again, but the Hexaplex have to be milked after midnight anyway, so the timing was fortuitous…”
Snape gave a non-committal grunt and took a jar off the shelf.
“You’re going to do some more work on the inventory? That’s a splendid idea. Interesting concept, sorting the ingredients alphabetically. I tried doing it by use, but then some ingredients are in different potions so I tried by what they were derived from, but that was problematic as well. Then I went by animal, vegetable, mineral, but, well… it still got muddled. I found it easiest just to memorise the location where I left it last, but I acknowledge your contention that that makes it difficult for you.”
Wormwood settled his snail in a glass dish and offered it a small piece of something that looked like cat food.
“I can see you’re disinclined to talk, sir.”
“You are stunningly perceptive tonight, Wormwood,” Snape muttered between clenched teeth.
“Am I really? That’s most unusual. I’m normally even more insensitve around the full moon. I say the stupidest things.”
“I meant that your conclusion was correct, Wormwood.”
Comprehension dawned on the young man’s face.
“Oh, of course. Sorry, sir. I’ll leave you to your inventory.”
Wormwood finally gave his full attention to the snails, murmuring softly to them about the potions he would make with their lovely slime. He spoke quietly enough to allow Snape to tune him out.
Snape turned to the jars and vials in the cupboard in front of him. Wormwood was certainly systematic, but he kept changing his system, and Snape never knew quite what he would find. The only things he could reliably locate were muscaria, ergot and a few other specific ingredients essential to Dreamless Sleep, since Wormwood always kept those in a warded cabinet that Snape couldn’t open, just in case he was tempted. Anything else, however, could be nearly anywhere.
He cautiously reached for a small, black vial, labelled in a neat script which was familiar, although he couldn’t say why. Vampire’s venom the label said. There was a much larger black jar, labelled in Wormwood’s barely legible hand. Vampire’s venom: water 1:36 dilution.
He began the same process he had with each ingredient – looking for fragments of memory that related. He came first to some fragments of a textbook, reminding him that it was an extremely rare and dangerous ingredient, but also with very powerful healing properties when used correctly. It was always used heavily diluted, both due to the risks, and the difficulty of obtaining it. It was used in the Draft of Living Death, Argyria and several powerful healing potions which were highly specific in their use – one for restoring the liver after certain types of snakebite, another for treating major head injuries, another for controlling critical blood loss and Dragonbalm, for dragon burns, which Wormwood made at least once a week. And… Celo Vivus.
The memory hit him like a punch to the stomach. The dark lord’s face close to his, asking if it was done yet. He’d hardly slept in weeks – running Hogwarts, trying to keep the Carrows from actually killing any of the children, doing what he could to get information to the Order without any of them knowing where it came from – when Voldemort had asked him for more. The problem, he’d stated bluntly, was when they took prisoners, someone came to look for them. But if the Order believed them dead, he’d be free to torture them for as long as he wanted. He wanted a way that they would appear dead for as long as was needed for the Order to believe them gone, but could then be revived. “For questioning,” he had said, evil red eyes boring into Snape’s as he willed his mind to be calm.
And Snape had created it for him.
The memories became blurred from there. He felt cold and sick, and suddenly didn’t want to remember any more. He looked at the vial again, trying to drag his mind away with a recitation of textbook facts.
“Vampire’s venom,” he recited in his mind, as if speaking to his students, “lasts almost indefinitely if not exposed to light, but deteriorates in a matter of days if touched by the sun. Any brewing that involves it must to be done at night, and even then in a dimly lit room, or it becomes unstable.”
He pictured himself holding his own vial from the Hogwarts lab. In his memory, it looked identical to the Institute vial.
He paused. Was his mind confused? The writing on the label - identical. Was he filling in gaps? He took a deep breath, and looked again, but it was the same. When he searched for that writing in his mind, he found pages of notes in front of him. Lesson notes from his teaching days. Hinkypunks. Boggarts. Wards and shields. Casting a Patronus. Not his own notes then. Odd.
Then he felt the hairs rising on his arms and up the back of his neck. He knew. Vampire’s venom was so rare, so hard to get, because it had to be obtained directly from vampires. To obtain good quality venom, someone had to go and negotiate with the vampires on their own terms and on their own turf. It required someone with infinite patience and tact, and a comprehensive knowledge of the Romanian language, as well as the ability to defend themselves if things went horribly wrong. And, he recalled, the best of emissaries had tainted blood, so that the vampires wouldn’t decide that a fair exchange would be the blood of the tasty human before them.
He was newly teaching at Hogwarts, and Madame Pomphrey had requested potions for treating dragon burns, as Hagrid had acquired yet another new pet. When he had asked his colleagues who sold the best vampire’s venom, he had been told it was pointless to buy commercially if he wanted quality. The only way was to visit Romania himself or find someone trustworthy to get it for him. And when he dug around a little more, asking who went to Romania, one name kept coming up, spoken with a kind of reverence. Remus Lupin. If you want something nobody else can get, talk to Lupin. For a price, Lupin could get the things that nobody else could. Lupin would go to Romania and trade with the vampires.
Snape remembered that he hadn’t believed it initially. The timid marauder with the dark secret? He hardly seemed the kind to inspire such awe. But when he asked around, Lupin was not just the one who could find obscure potion ingredients, he found other rare supplies, information and even people who did not want to be found. Lupin, he had realised, had another side.
Suddenly the face of a younger Lupin came to him. Not the shy boy following his friends blindly. Not the man who wore the camouflage of mediocrity and inoffensiveness. But Lupin with his mask off, revealing the steel underneath. The Lupin who would listen to Snape’s order for rare ingredients, smile an innocent smile and name an unreasonable price. The Lupin who would raise his eyebrows when Snape complained, and ask who else would take on the dangerous missions for him. The Lupin nobody would employ, but who made a living anyway, doing what others wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do. The Lupin who survived when most others in his position simply gave up. The Lupin that Snape admired for his tenacity and strength, even though he’d never admitted it. The Lupin that he knew was still there somewhere, even though he was so badly broken, being ground down by his helplessness and pain.
And then Snape knew what he had to do. He looked up at his former student, who was carefully milking the snail.
“Wormwood?”
“Yes?” The man’s eyes didn’t move from the snail he was poking with a stick.
“I was thinking of doing some research and trying out some new potions. If I had time after the teaching, the preparation and the potions I’m making for you. Would that be possible?”
“Of course, si…Severus. What was it you were contemplating?” Still Wormwood poked the snails, carefully collecting the purple secretions they produced in response.
Snape paused, doubt suddenly coming over him. He looked away and went on, his voice quiet, a little uncertain.
“I was thinking about a version of the anti-Crucio potion. Only without the aconite and sylvanite. I’m not quite sure what would substitute, it might be necessary to try a completely different approach, such as with vampire’s venom and Calabar beans.”
Wormwood looked intensely at Snape.
“Interesting. I have to say I’d be inclined to try precatory beans instead, but it’s a fascinating thought. I’d say it has potential. I’m certainly happy to help.”
Wormwood put down the snail he held and headed to his bookshelves. He pulled out several books and returned, slamming them on the bench and beginning to flick through the first. Then he stopped. He slowly looked up at Snape, a smile forming on his face.
“Ah, of course. Forgive me for being obtuse. I was so intrigued by the concept that it didn’t cross my mind why you wanted to make it. It would be...such a help to him. And if you need more time, I could get Keith to do more of the preparation for me. He’s not up to your standard, but he’s really quite good. Shame he’s not a wizard. He’d make an exemplary potion maker.”
“That’s very… thank you. That would help I think.”
“Anything more I can do, please ask. Remus has been so good to me, all of us really.”
“Please, don’t tell him what I’m planning. He will tell me that I’m wasting my time, tell me to spend my time on something that would benefit more than just one werewolf.”
Wormwood nodded his agreement.
“Of course, you’re quite right. And I know you don’t believe it, but I’m capable of keeping a secret when I need to.”
Wormwood gave Snape a mysterious smile then returned to his book.
“Now, precatory beans. Look at this.”
Vampire’s venom
Lupin haunted his mind again that night. Snape tried to sleep, but when he closed his eyes, he kept picturing the boy Lupin, the awkward, timid child he remembered from first year, alone and crying, locked in a cramped cellar and covered in blood. He tried to tell himself that it was all in the past, but then he saw the weak, exhausted Lupin, a sheen of sweat across his face and a blank look in his eyes as he tried to distance himself from the pain. Lupin’s present seemed barely better.
He climbed out of bed and stalked along the corridor to the lab, where he found Wormwood with his arm in a tankful of water, delicately prising a snail from its rock.
“Couldn’t sleep either, sir?”
Snape nodded, not in the mood to discuss potion making. Or, for that matter, to listen to a monologue.
“Thomas had a nightmare and awoke us all. Lucretia’s got them settled again, but the Hexaplex have to be milked after midnight anyway, so the timing was fortuitous…”
Snape gave a non-committal grunt and took a jar off the shelf.
“You’re going to do some more work on the inventory? That’s a splendid idea. Interesting concept, sorting the ingredients alphabetically. I tried doing it by use, but then some ingredients are in different potions so I tried by what they were derived from, but that was problematic as well. Then I went by animal, vegetable, mineral, but, well… it still got muddled. I found it easiest just to memorise the location where I left it last, but I acknowledge your contention that that makes it difficult for you.”
Wormwood settled his snail in a glass dish and offered it a small piece of something that looked like cat food.
“I can see you’re disinclined to talk, sir.”
“You are stunningly perceptive tonight, Wormwood,” Snape muttered between clenched teeth.
“Am I really? That’s most unusual. I’m normally even more insensitve around the full moon. I say the stupidest things.”
“I meant that your conclusion was correct, Wormwood.”
Comprehension dawned on the young man’s face.
“Oh, of course. Sorry, sir. I’ll leave you to your inventory.”
Wormwood finally gave his full attention to the snails, murmuring softly to them about the potions he would make with their lovely slime. He spoke quietly enough to allow Snape to tune him out.
Snape turned to the jars and vials in the cupboard in front of him. Wormwood was certainly systematic, but he kept changing his system, and Snape never knew quite what he would find. The only things he could reliably locate were muscaria, ergot and a few other specific ingredients essential to Dreamless Sleep, since Wormwood always kept those in a warded cabinet that Snape couldn’t open, just in case he was tempted. Anything else, however, could be nearly anywhere.
He cautiously reached for a small, black vial, labelled in a neat script which was familiar, although he couldn’t say why. Vampire’s venom the label said. There was a much larger black jar, labelled in Wormwood’s barely legible hand. Vampire’s venom: water 1:36 dilution.
He began the same process he had with each ingredient – looking for fragments of memory that related. He came first to some fragments of a textbook, reminding him that it was an extremely rare and dangerous ingredient, but also with very powerful healing properties when used correctly. It was always used heavily diluted, both due to the risks, and the difficulty of obtaining it. It was used in the Draft of Living Death, Argyria and several powerful healing potions which were highly specific in their use – one for restoring the liver after certain types of snakebite, another for treating major head injuries, another for controlling critical blood loss and Dragonbalm, for dragon burns, which Wormwood made at least once a week. And… Celo Vivus.
The memory hit him like a punch to the stomach. The dark lord’s face close to his, asking if it was done yet. He’d hardly slept in weeks – running Hogwarts, trying to keep the Carrows from actually killing any of the children, doing what he could to get information to the Order without any of them knowing where it came from – when Voldemort had asked him for more. The problem, he’d stated bluntly, was when they took prisoners, someone came to look for them. But if the Order believed them dead, he’d be free to torture them for as long as he wanted. He wanted a way that they would appear dead for as long as was needed for the Order to believe them gone, but could then be revived. “For questioning,” he had said, evil red eyes boring into Snape’s as he willed his mind to be calm.
And Snape had created it for him.
The memories became blurred from there. He felt cold and sick, and suddenly didn’t want to remember any more. He looked at the vial again, trying to drag his mind away with a recitation of textbook facts.
“Vampire’s venom,” he recited in his mind, as if speaking to his students, “lasts almost indefinitely if not exposed to light, but deteriorates in a matter of days if touched by the sun. Any brewing that involves it must to be done at night, and even then in a dimly lit room, or it becomes unstable.”
He pictured himself holding his own vial from the Hogwarts lab. In his memory, it looked identical to the Institute vial.
He paused. Was his mind confused? The writing on the label - identical. Was he filling in gaps? He took a deep breath, and looked again, but it was the same. When he searched for that writing in his mind, he found pages of notes in front of him. Lesson notes from his teaching days. Hinkypunks. Boggarts. Wards and shields. Casting a Patronus. Not his own notes then. Odd.
Then he felt the hairs rising on his arms and up the back of his neck. He knew. Vampire’s venom was so rare, so hard to get, because it had to be obtained directly from vampires. To obtain good quality venom, someone had to go and negotiate with the vampires on their own terms and on their own turf. It required someone with infinite patience and tact, and a comprehensive knowledge of the Romanian language, as well as the ability to defend themselves if things went horribly wrong. And, he recalled, the best of emissaries had tainted blood, so that the vampires wouldn’t decide that a fair exchange would be the blood of the tasty human before them.
He was newly teaching at Hogwarts, and Madame Pomphrey had requested potions for treating dragon burns, as Hagrid had acquired yet another new pet. When he had asked his colleagues who sold the best vampire’s venom, he had been told it was pointless to buy commercially if he wanted quality. The only way was to visit Romania himself or find someone trustworthy to get it for him. And when he dug around a little more, asking who went to Romania, one name kept coming up, spoken with a kind of reverence. Remus Lupin. If you want something nobody else can get, talk to Lupin. For a price, Lupin could get the things that nobody else could. Lupin would go to Romania and trade with the vampires.
Snape remembered that he hadn’t believed it initially. The timid marauder with the dark secret? He hardly seemed the kind to inspire such awe. But when he asked around, Lupin was not just the one who could find obscure potion ingredients, he found other rare supplies, information and even people who did not want to be found. Lupin, he had realised, had another side.
Suddenly the face of a younger Lupin came to him. Not the shy boy following his friends blindly. Not the man who wore the camouflage of mediocrity and inoffensiveness. But Lupin with his mask off, revealing the steel underneath. The Lupin who would listen to Snape’s order for rare ingredients, smile an innocent smile and name an unreasonable price. The Lupin who would raise his eyebrows when Snape complained, and ask who else would take on the dangerous missions for him. The Lupin nobody would employ, but who made a living anyway, doing what others wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do. The Lupin who survived when most others in his position simply gave up. The Lupin that Snape admired for his tenacity and strength, even though he’d never admitted it. The Lupin that he knew was still there somewhere, even though he was so badly broken, being ground down by his helplessness and pain.
And then Snape knew what he had to do. He looked up at his former student, who was carefully milking the snail.
“Wormwood?”
“Yes?” The man’s eyes didn’t move from the snail he was poking with a stick.
“I was thinking of doing some research and trying out some new potions. If I had time after the teaching, the preparation and the potions I’m making for you. Would that be possible?”
“Of course, si…Severus. What was it you were contemplating?” Still Wormwood poked the snails, carefully collecting the purple secretions they produced in response.
Snape paused, doubt suddenly coming over him. He looked away and went on, his voice quiet, a little uncertain.
“I was thinking about a version of the anti-Crucio potion. Only without the aconite and sylvanite. I’m not quite sure what would substitute, it might be necessary to try a completely different approach, such as with vampire’s venom and Calabar beans.”
Wormwood looked intensely at Snape.
“Interesting. I have to say I’d be inclined to try precatory beans instead, but it’s a fascinating thought. I’d say it has potential. I’m certainly happy to help.”
Wormwood put down the snail he held and headed to his bookshelves. He pulled out several books and returned, slamming them on the bench and beginning to flick through the first. Then he stopped. He slowly looked up at Snape, a smile forming on his face.
“Ah, of course. Forgive me for being obtuse. I was so intrigued by the concept that it didn’t cross my mind why you wanted to make it. It would be...such a help to him. And if you need more time, I could get Keith to do more of the preparation for me. He’s not up to your standard, but he’s really quite good. Shame he’s not a wizard. He’d make an exemplary potion maker.”
“That’s very… thank you. That would help I think.”
“Anything more I can do, please ask. Remus has been so good to me, all of us really.”
“Please, don’t tell him what I’m planning. He will tell me that I’m wasting my time, tell me to spend my time on something that would benefit more than just one werewolf.”
Wormwood nodded his agreement.
“Of course, you’re quite right. And I know you don’t believe it, but I’m capable of keeping a secret when I need to.”
Wormwood gave Snape a mysterious smile then returned to his book.
“Now, precatory beans. Look at this.”
