HP WIP: Pax Inimica
Feb. 7th, 2004 01:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
louiseluxFeel the fear! I'm never ever going to finish this 'Snape is a vampire' story, so I may as well just lay it to rest right now. If it was finished it would have been Snape/Lupin. As it is they just glare at each other a lot. The title comes from yet another WIP, a Harry/Draco that I'll also never finish. You might notice the precursor of ideas for Time Under Glass in here too, with Snape's potion.
Pax inimica
The cloaked figures stood in a semi-circle around the man kneeling on the cold stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of the blood that gushed from the torn vein in his wrist. Presently, the figures parted to reveal the tall form of Voldemenort, flanked by Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew's face was twisted with hatred, his silver hand still smeared with the blood of Severus Snape.
"He's here Lord, your faithful servant." Pettigrew sneered, walking over to where Snape kneeled and grabbing his wounded arm in a crushing grip. "You can take him now." He peered into Snape's face at close range. Unblinking black eyes regarded him thoughtfully.
"So it's true, Peter." Snape managed to say, using every ounce of will to keep him voice calm and steady, expression neutral. "Lupin was quite correct about you. I should have guessed before - you always were weak...ahhhhh" Snape was unable to finish his sentence as Pettigrew twisted his arm cruelly, forcing the other man to the floor.
Voldemort stepped forwards.
"Enough of this play, Peter. I need his blood," Voldemort said. He gestured briefly towards the prone man. Against his will, Snape began to move, crawling forwards. His mind was spinning: Deny everything. He can't know yet. The imperious curse invaded his mind, his limbs were becoming dangerously light and it was becoming easier to move. He resisted, but Voldemort was too strong. His body jerked, torn between resistance and compliance. Too late, Voldemort was there, gripping his arms, pulling him into a hideous embrace. The press of his bony skeleton and the touch of scaly skin nauseated Snape.
"Hello Severus," Voldemort whispered horribly, "So nice to see you again. I knew you'd come back, so I thought I'd give you a little treat, for being so faithless." He sank his fangs deep into Snape's wrist, pinning him.
Snape squeezed his eyes shut, and thousands of tiny stars exploded against the black. Voldemort was a vampire. The idea almost made him giggle. Almost. Now his arm was singing with cold freezing pain as Voldemort sucked and pulled on the open wound.
Abruptly he was dropped to the ground, landing with a thump on the stone flags. A needle of hot pain flowed through his veins, burning him. Hazily,he heard Voldemort's low, slurred tones. Forcing his eyes open, he saw the tall figure, arms raised in ecstasy, blood staining his chin. Snape's own blood.
"Go back to you real master, Severus. Give him this message from me." He bent down and drew one clawed finger down Snape's cheek, drawing more blood. It ran in hot streams over his cold face. "Tell him he will never succeed," Voldemort hissed. He stood upright and snapped his fingers. "Disapparate!"
Reality slipped away as his vision fogged. Voldemort and his followers faded away and a rushing filled his ears.
*
When he came to, he found he was lying face down on the front lawn of Hogwarts. His mouth was pressed into the muddy grass, and he felt bone-achingly cold. He groaned, the horror of the night's events hitting him afresh. He had failed. Voldemort knew as soon as he apparated that he was disloyal. How, he didn't know, but could guess that information had come from Pettigrew.
Snape's thoughts turned to Dumbledore. He had to see him straightaway. He heaved himself up onto weak, shaky legs, wondering how much blood he had lost. He was light-headed, but was strong enough to walk. Not too much then, but enough to put him in some danger. And with that bite...
He shuddered as he thought of the possible consequences. A vampire. He'd never known. Voldemort had kept his secrets well, better than Snape ever imagined. He brought his wrist up to his face so he could examine the wound. It was worse than he thought. The puncture marks were already starting to close up. Oh, that's bad, he thought dimly, panic nipping at his belly, twisting like a cold thread. The wound looked red and angry, and stung like he'd dipped it in acid. Grimacing with pain, he gripped it with his good hand and staggered off to find Dumbledore.
*
"You know what this might mean, don't you, Severus?" Dumbledore said gently.
"Don't baby me, Albus, of course I know the risks attached!" Snape scowled. They were in Dumbldore's office. Snape reached for his steaming cup of tea, his bandaged wrist showing briefly as he reached for the drink. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he gripped the handle and he cursed inwardly at this sign of weakness.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I should never have allowed this. I have put you in great danger, and I can't afford to loose you, Severus."
Snape was ready to snap back a tart reply about not being lost yet, when something in the gentleness of Dumbldore's tone stopped him.
"Albus, "he began, finding it difficult to say the words that had gone so long unspoken, "Please, never blame yourself. I volunteered for this, and I would not have it any other way. You know that. I owe you everything, for without you I would not be here today." He stopped, worried that he'd said too much.
Dumbledore smiled warmly: it was rare for Snape to express such sentiment.
"I have every faith in you, Severus. That's something that will never change, whatever happens. But if word of what has happened gets out, things could turn very bad for you. Life will be hard for you in the wizarding world. Difficult in ways only the truly outcast know." Dumbledore paused, then glancing casually over his spectacles at the grim-faced Snape, said casually,
"And have you heard from Lupin at all?"
This time Snape didn't bother to rein in his displeasure. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about.
"No, why? Should I have?" he snapped, letting Dumbledore know that this was one topic he should steer well clear of. He knew exactly what Dumbledore was getting at. To his immense annoyance, Dumbledore ploughed blithely on.
"Black is an innocent man. From what you tell me, it is apparent that Potter and Lupin were telling the truth. Pettigrew is the traitor." Dumbledore spoke quite gently, but it was clear to Snape that he would not be gainsaid. Snape glowered, resisting the urge to hide behind his long hair. A teenaged habit he had long broken, or thought he had. Dumbledore didn't have to say another word; Snape knew exactly what the Headmaster intended by this turn of the conversation.
Lupin was a danger to the entire school. That was Snape's defence, although it no longer convinced Snape himself, so he couldn't truthfully see how it would convince any other. Dumbledore certainly saw far deeper in to Snape's motivations that was entirely comfortable. Black eyes met blue. There was a silence, during which the only sound to be heard was the faint ruffling of Fawkes' feathers as the bird shifted on his post. Snape shut his eyes briefly, summoning strength. Opening them again, he said,
"I shall apologise."
Dumbledore perked up instantly. "Excellent!" he cried, clapping his hands briskly together. "Tell him hello from me, won't you. Such an pleasant fellow - it's time you two got along."
Snape rolled his eyes. Why did he feel like he'd set something unstoppable in motion? "Well, if that's all Headmaster…?" Snape moved to get up.
"Yes, Severus, that's all for now, but soon we shall be busy. Perhaps it would be best for us all to gather our strength. You certainly should rest for at least a fortnight."
"But I'm fine..." Snape interjected. Dumbledore raised a quelling hand.
"Severus, you shall rest, I shan't hear another word on the matter." Dumbledore was smiling his most annoying smile, the one that barely disguised the will of steel lurking underneath the friendly exterior. Snape knew he could do nothing but capitulate.
"Very well, Headmaster. I shall spend my time resting." He placed unnecessary emphasis on this last word. He cast one more scathing look at Dumbledore before sweeping from the room.
*
"Damn you, Lupin" Snape whispered as he watched the silvery strands coalesce in the shallow dish of the Pensieve. He brought his wand again to his temple, drawing of the shimmering threads of thought and placing them with the others.
He stood gazing down at the bowl, wondering why he was even bothering to do this. Albus wanted him to, but he knew deep down that there was more to it than that. Turning his own customary policy of brutal honesty on himself was unpleasant, but necessary. He had not revisited these thoughts since that awful night, and knew that it was time to face them once more.
He was more than pleased to have them out of his head, where they had been whizzing merrily round, colliding with newer, far more sinister thoughts about his future. He simply had to get some sense out of them soon, or he would go mad. Snape's breathing increased slightly as he dipped his wand into the dish and was plunged into memory.
Lupin was shouting at Hermione, prior to explaining about being a werewolf, and then about that murderous trick Black had perpetrated all those years ago. As he stood there, watching and listening, he could see plain as day the expressions of sincerity and desperation plastered over the faces of Lupin and Black. Why had he never recognised them at the time?
He had to admit to himself that he hadn't wanted to. Hadn't wanted to admit that Black was innocent, not after all these years. He searched again within himself for some forgiveness, but, as ever, found none. He simply could not forgive Black for trying to kill him, and found it impossible to believe that anyone could be so stupid. He had no choice but to attribute it to pure maliciousness.
And Lupin, well, resenting Lupin was an integral part of his life, always had been for as long as he could remember. It was his way of coping. Oh, spare us the maudlin reminiscence Severus, he thought caustically, suddenly overwhelmed by memory. The Pensieve was apt to bring forth remembrance, until it swamped the mind. With some effort, Snape forced his attention back to the scene in front of him.
Lupin looked so tired, yet his face was alive with passion and his movements vital. Snape wondered how he was managing, and what he was doing now. Suddenly he felt very bad. What he'd done was the sort of behaviour that had got him into so much trouble in the first place. Lupin had always trodden lightly around him after that night under the whomping willow, probably due to some misplaced sense of guilt.
Then he thought of Lupin's customary air of cool detachment, and how it had been blown apart when his secret had been revealed, leaving a man desperate to be understood.
None of it had been Lupin's fault at all. And he'd as good as banished him.
Snape looked down at his left wrist. The wound had healed in matter of hours, leaving no scar. He touched the area where it had been and suffered moment of pure horror at what this might mean.
Dumbledore was right; he should go to Lupin and try to make amends.
*
Cold blue light filtered though the window into the stone dungeon, where it pooled on the floor. The room was silent, except for soft bubbling of boiling potion, which was releasing its misty vapours into the room. Snape stood at his mixing table, checking though a long row of ingredients. His long fingers touched on each one in turn, as he softly muttered each item's name under his breath.
"Tincture of goat liver, 9 drops… chamomile root, stewed, 2 pounds… vervain… wolfsbane, 12 ounces…"
He added each ingredient at its proper time and in the proper amount, mixing with care and precision. He knew the recipe by heart - it was partly his own after all. Dumbledore had asked him to carry on research into an antidote during his first summer here as a professor, and he had readily agreed. He had known whom it was for, but despite this, his professional interest had been piqued, and it had become a challenge.
His success last year in finding a breakthrough had been most satisfying, coupled with the possibilities to observe the effect of the potion on a real werewolf. Without calling, an image of Lupin leapt into his mind.
Strange, that he looked nothing like a wolf. One might think that years of transformation would change some physical elements of the man, but no. Although, maybe about the eyes; there was something about his golden brown irises that arrested the attention. Snape mentally slapped himself for allowing this rambling train of thought, especially during the creation of such a difficult potion. He grasped for focus, aware that all too soon the moon would be full again.
Snape continued his work, consumed by thoughts of the werewolf, as the gibbous moon rose higher in the night sky.
*
Everything was ready. Snape had had quite a job tracking Lupin down but had at last found him living on a farm in Scotland, quite a long way from anywhere, with muggles. Snape assumed that they didn't keep cattle or sheep.
A cold wind was gusting when he apparated in the lane behind Lupin's cottage. It was chilly, even though it was technically high summer, and he shivered in his robe. He hoped Lupin had enough wood for a fire; otherwise he would have to magic one, muggles or no.
He opened the small garden gate and moved down the path to the cottage. The garden was flooded with moonlight, and it cast pale gleaming highlights on the plants crowding the small beds.
So, here he was. He shook off a faint feeling of nervousness. Now, where was Lupin?
"What do you think you're doing here?" a voice demanded, bluntly.
Turning sharply, Snape saw Remus Lupin standing in the vegetable patch. He was dressed in nothing more than a raggedy t-shirt and old jeans, despite the cold wind. His shaggy hair whipped around his face, which was shadowed. Snape almost didn't recognise this scowling apparition that glared at him so intensely. Lupin seemed almost…wild, he thought, feeling an unwelcome spark of concern, and some fear. The moon was not yet full though.
"Well?" Lupin bit the words off, "Come to gloat, Snape?"
Snape reined in his immediate instinct, a needle sharp reply. 'And what would that profit me? No, Lupin, I did not. Actually, I have something that belongs to you. I came to return it."
"Well, what is it?" Lupin's voice held no curiosity, however.
Snape sighed, a little impatiently. "We should go indoors, Lupin." He hesitated, then forced the word past his lips. "Please?"
Lupin frowned, casting a suspicious glance at the large trunk that Snape was carrying. His shoulders were hunched over, almost protectively.
"After you," Snape muttered, gesturing towards the door.
Snape stopped, realisation dawning. He met Lupin's hostile gaze.
"I mean you no harm Lupin. Quite the opposite, in fact. " Lupin just looked at him and Snape saw no change in his blank expression. Nevertheless, Lupin allowed Snape to follow him into the house.
Once they were in the small kitchen, Snape heaved the case onto the table, snapping open the catches. Lupin had crossed his arms and was standing in the middle of the floor. As Snape opened his mouth to speak, Lupin interrupted him angrily.
"What do you want from me, Snape? I can barely believe that you of all people have the gall to come here."
"Lupin, if you'll just..."
"What, listen to you? You've ruined the best thing that's happened to me for years.'
Lupin's voice was quiet, but there was a force behind his words that was making him tremble. Snape could see it in the set of his shoulders and in his clenched hands.
"Listen to me!'
Lupin blinked, opened his mouth, then shut it again, waiting.
'I've come to … To apologise," Snape muttered. "I was wrong. I've acted unfairly. To you, and to Black."
Lupin was staring at him in amazement
"I don't believe it" Snape heard him whisper. Snape locked eyes with the other man. '
'Look in the trunk, Lupin,' Snape said quietly. "It's for you, and there'll be more when you need it."
Snape flipped open the trunk to reveal rows of shiny bottles nestled in the velvet lining. Each was carefully labelled in his powerful sloping hand.
Lupin's reaction was strange to say the least. Instead of looking into the chest, he cast it one cursory glance before moving slowly towards Snape. His eyes were wide with shock. Lupin was looking at him as though seeing him for the first time. Lupin was close enough to touch now, peering closely at Snape, his nostrils dilating very slightly. Snape eyes him fearfully, his heart starting to pound in his chest. His mind had made a very un welcome connection. Lupin would be able to tell, which meant that he, Snape would know his fate.
His mind almost gave into panic. He can smell it, he thought. It's already happened. Involuntarily he reached out to grasp Lupin's shirt, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric.
"Tell me" his whispered, his voice betraying him; it shook with fear. "Just say it, please," he ground out. Lupin stayed still, regarding him with those wide, shocked eyes.
"You've changed, Severus," he said, voice now shaking like Snape's. He reached up to the hand that was now digging painfully into his flesh, and gently detached it. He placed it between his. He paused again before meeting his gaze, "You're a vampire."
*
Lupin sat quietly in his one armchair, waiting. He absentmindedly chewed at one of his nails. He'd ripped half of it off last full moon, and it was annoying him. The foul taste of the Wolfsbane potion still coated his mouth and throat, despite the tea and chocolate. Snape stood in front of the window, nibbling a chunk, but not saying anything. Lupin though he'd never seen anyone look more in need of its healing powers.
They'd been like this for a while now, and while Lupin was comfortably warm, he knew that Snape must be freezing over there by the draughty window. Lupin was thoroughly disturbed. What on earth was Snape going to do now?
Pax inimica
The cloaked figures stood in a semi-circle around the man kneeling on the cold stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of the blood that gushed from the torn vein in his wrist. Presently, the figures parted to reveal the tall form of Voldemenort, flanked by Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew's face was twisted with hatred, his silver hand still smeared with the blood of Severus Snape.
"He's here Lord, your faithful servant." Pettigrew sneered, walking over to where Snape kneeled and grabbing his wounded arm in a crushing grip. "You can take him now." He peered into Snape's face at close range. Unblinking black eyes regarded him thoughtfully.
"So it's true, Peter." Snape managed to say, using every ounce of will to keep him voice calm and steady, expression neutral. "Lupin was quite correct about you. I should have guessed before - you always were weak...ahhhhh" Snape was unable to finish his sentence as Pettigrew twisted his arm cruelly, forcing the other man to the floor.
Voldemort stepped forwards.
"Enough of this play, Peter. I need his blood," Voldemort said. He gestured briefly towards the prone man. Against his will, Snape began to move, crawling forwards. His mind was spinning: Deny everything. He can't know yet. The imperious curse invaded his mind, his limbs were becoming dangerously light and it was becoming easier to move. He resisted, but Voldemort was too strong. His body jerked, torn between resistance and compliance. Too late, Voldemort was there, gripping his arms, pulling him into a hideous embrace. The press of his bony skeleton and the touch of scaly skin nauseated Snape.
"Hello Severus," Voldemort whispered horribly, "So nice to see you again. I knew you'd come back, so I thought I'd give you a little treat, for being so faithless." He sank his fangs deep into Snape's wrist, pinning him.
Snape squeezed his eyes shut, and thousands of tiny stars exploded against the black. Voldemort was a vampire. The idea almost made him giggle. Almost. Now his arm was singing with cold freezing pain as Voldemort sucked and pulled on the open wound.
Abruptly he was dropped to the ground, landing with a thump on the stone flags. A needle of hot pain flowed through his veins, burning him. Hazily,he heard Voldemort's low, slurred tones. Forcing his eyes open, he saw the tall figure, arms raised in ecstasy, blood staining his chin. Snape's own blood.
"Go back to you real master, Severus. Give him this message from me." He bent down and drew one clawed finger down Snape's cheek, drawing more blood. It ran in hot streams over his cold face. "Tell him he will never succeed," Voldemort hissed. He stood upright and snapped his fingers. "Disapparate!"
Reality slipped away as his vision fogged. Voldemort and his followers faded away and a rushing filled his ears.
*
When he came to, he found he was lying face down on the front lawn of Hogwarts. His mouth was pressed into the muddy grass, and he felt bone-achingly cold. He groaned, the horror of the night's events hitting him afresh. He had failed. Voldemort knew as soon as he apparated that he was disloyal. How, he didn't know, but could guess that information had come from Pettigrew.
Snape's thoughts turned to Dumbledore. He had to see him straightaway. He heaved himself up onto weak, shaky legs, wondering how much blood he had lost. He was light-headed, but was strong enough to walk. Not too much then, but enough to put him in some danger. And with that bite...
He shuddered as he thought of the possible consequences. A vampire. He'd never known. Voldemort had kept his secrets well, better than Snape ever imagined. He brought his wrist up to his face so he could examine the wound. It was worse than he thought. The puncture marks were already starting to close up. Oh, that's bad, he thought dimly, panic nipping at his belly, twisting like a cold thread. The wound looked red and angry, and stung like he'd dipped it in acid. Grimacing with pain, he gripped it with his good hand and staggered off to find Dumbledore.
*
"You know what this might mean, don't you, Severus?" Dumbledore said gently.
"Don't baby me, Albus, of course I know the risks attached!" Snape scowled. They were in Dumbldore's office. Snape reached for his steaming cup of tea, his bandaged wrist showing briefly as he reached for the drink. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he gripped the handle and he cursed inwardly at this sign of weakness.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I should never have allowed this. I have put you in great danger, and I can't afford to loose you, Severus."
Snape was ready to snap back a tart reply about not being lost yet, when something in the gentleness of Dumbldore's tone stopped him.
"Albus, "he began, finding it difficult to say the words that had gone so long unspoken, "Please, never blame yourself. I volunteered for this, and I would not have it any other way. You know that. I owe you everything, for without you I would not be here today." He stopped, worried that he'd said too much.
Dumbledore smiled warmly: it was rare for Snape to express such sentiment.
"I have every faith in you, Severus. That's something that will never change, whatever happens. But if word of what has happened gets out, things could turn very bad for you. Life will be hard for you in the wizarding world. Difficult in ways only the truly outcast know." Dumbledore paused, then glancing casually over his spectacles at the grim-faced Snape, said casually,
"And have you heard from Lupin at all?"
This time Snape didn't bother to rein in his displeasure. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about.
"No, why? Should I have?" he snapped, letting Dumbledore know that this was one topic he should steer well clear of. He knew exactly what Dumbledore was getting at. To his immense annoyance, Dumbledore ploughed blithely on.
"Black is an innocent man. From what you tell me, it is apparent that Potter and Lupin were telling the truth. Pettigrew is the traitor." Dumbledore spoke quite gently, but it was clear to Snape that he would not be gainsaid. Snape glowered, resisting the urge to hide behind his long hair. A teenaged habit he had long broken, or thought he had. Dumbledore didn't have to say another word; Snape knew exactly what the Headmaster intended by this turn of the conversation.
Lupin was a danger to the entire school. That was Snape's defence, although it no longer convinced Snape himself, so he couldn't truthfully see how it would convince any other. Dumbledore certainly saw far deeper in to Snape's motivations that was entirely comfortable. Black eyes met blue. There was a silence, during which the only sound to be heard was the faint ruffling of Fawkes' feathers as the bird shifted on his post. Snape shut his eyes briefly, summoning strength. Opening them again, he said,
"I shall apologise."
Dumbledore perked up instantly. "Excellent!" he cried, clapping his hands briskly together. "Tell him hello from me, won't you. Such an pleasant fellow - it's time you two got along."
Snape rolled his eyes. Why did he feel like he'd set something unstoppable in motion? "Well, if that's all Headmaster…?" Snape moved to get up.
"Yes, Severus, that's all for now, but soon we shall be busy. Perhaps it would be best for us all to gather our strength. You certainly should rest for at least a fortnight."
"But I'm fine..." Snape interjected. Dumbledore raised a quelling hand.
"Severus, you shall rest, I shan't hear another word on the matter." Dumbledore was smiling his most annoying smile, the one that barely disguised the will of steel lurking underneath the friendly exterior. Snape knew he could do nothing but capitulate.
"Very well, Headmaster. I shall spend my time resting." He placed unnecessary emphasis on this last word. He cast one more scathing look at Dumbledore before sweeping from the room.
*
"Damn you, Lupin" Snape whispered as he watched the silvery strands coalesce in the shallow dish of the Pensieve. He brought his wand again to his temple, drawing of the shimmering threads of thought and placing them with the others.
He stood gazing down at the bowl, wondering why he was even bothering to do this. Albus wanted him to, but he knew deep down that there was more to it than that. Turning his own customary policy of brutal honesty on himself was unpleasant, but necessary. He had not revisited these thoughts since that awful night, and knew that it was time to face them once more.
He was more than pleased to have them out of his head, where they had been whizzing merrily round, colliding with newer, far more sinister thoughts about his future. He simply had to get some sense out of them soon, or he would go mad. Snape's breathing increased slightly as he dipped his wand into the dish and was plunged into memory.
Lupin was shouting at Hermione, prior to explaining about being a werewolf, and then about that murderous trick Black had perpetrated all those years ago. As he stood there, watching and listening, he could see plain as day the expressions of sincerity and desperation plastered over the faces of Lupin and Black. Why had he never recognised them at the time?
He had to admit to himself that he hadn't wanted to. Hadn't wanted to admit that Black was innocent, not after all these years. He searched again within himself for some forgiveness, but, as ever, found none. He simply could not forgive Black for trying to kill him, and found it impossible to believe that anyone could be so stupid. He had no choice but to attribute it to pure maliciousness.
And Lupin, well, resenting Lupin was an integral part of his life, always had been for as long as he could remember. It was his way of coping. Oh, spare us the maudlin reminiscence Severus, he thought caustically, suddenly overwhelmed by memory. The Pensieve was apt to bring forth remembrance, until it swamped the mind. With some effort, Snape forced his attention back to the scene in front of him.
Lupin looked so tired, yet his face was alive with passion and his movements vital. Snape wondered how he was managing, and what he was doing now. Suddenly he felt very bad. What he'd done was the sort of behaviour that had got him into so much trouble in the first place. Lupin had always trodden lightly around him after that night under the whomping willow, probably due to some misplaced sense of guilt.
Then he thought of Lupin's customary air of cool detachment, and how it had been blown apart when his secret had been revealed, leaving a man desperate to be understood.
None of it had been Lupin's fault at all. And he'd as good as banished him.
Snape looked down at his left wrist. The wound had healed in matter of hours, leaving no scar. He touched the area where it had been and suffered moment of pure horror at what this might mean.
Dumbledore was right; he should go to Lupin and try to make amends.
*
Cold blue light filtered though the window into the stone dungeon, where it pooled on the floor. The room was silent, except for soft bubbling of boiling potion, which was releasing its misty vapours into the room. Snape stood at his mixing table, checking though a long row of ingredients. His long fingers touched on each one in turn, as he softly muttered each item's name under his breath.
"Tincture of goat liver, 9 drops… chamomile root, stewed, 2 pounds… vervain… wolfsbane, 12 ounces…"
He added each ingredient at its proper time and in the proper amount, mixing with care and precision. He knew the recipe by heart - it was partly his own after all. Dumbledore had asked him to carry on research into an antidote during his first summer here as a professor, and he had readily agreed. He had known whom it was for, but despite this, his professional interest had been piqued, and it had become a challenge.
His success last year in finding a breakthrough had been most satisfying, coupled with the possibilities to observe the effect of the potion on a real werewolf. Without calling, an image of Lupin leapt into his mind.
Strange, that he looked nothing like a wolf. One might think that years of transformation would change some physical elements of the man, but no. Although, maybe about the eyes; there was something about his golden brown irises that arrested the attention. Snape mentally slapped himself for allowing this rambling train of thought, especially during the creation of such a difficult potion. He grasped for focus, aware that all too soon the moon would be full again.
Snape continued his work, consumed by thoughts of the werewolf, as the gibbous moon rose higher in the night sky.
*
Everything was ready. Snape had had quite a job tracking Lupin down but had at last found him living on a farm in Scotland, quite a long way from anywhere, with muggles. Snape assumed that they didn't keep cattle or sheep.
A cold wind was gusting when he apparated in the lane behind Lupin's cottage. It was chilly, even though it was technically high summer, and he shivered in his robe. He hoped Lupin had enough wood for a fire; otherwise he would have to magic one, muggles or no.
He opened the small garden gate and moved down the path to the cottage. The garden was flooded with moonlight, and it cast pale gleaming highlights on the plants crowding the small beds.
So, here he was. He shook off a faint feeling of nervousness. Now, where was Lupin?
"What do you think you're doing here?" a voice demanded, bluntly.
Turning sharply, Snape saw Remus Lupin standing in the vegetable patch. He was dressed in nothing more than a raggedy t-shirt and old jeans, despite the cold wind. His shaggy hair whipped around his face, which was shadowed. Snape almost didn't recognise this scowling apparition that glared at him so intensely. Lupin seemed almost…wild, he thought, feeling an unwelcome spark of concern, and some fear. The moon was not yet full though.
"Well?" Lupin bit the words off, "Come to gloat, Snape?"
Snape reined in his immediate instinct, a needle sharp reply. 'And what would that profit me? No, Lupin, I did not. Actually, I have something that belongs to you. I came to return it."
"Well, what is it?" Lupin's voice held no curiosity, however.
Snape sighed, a little impatiently. "We should go indoors, Lupin." He hesitated, then forced the word past his lips. "Please?"
Lupin frowned, casting a suspicious glance at the large trunk that Snape was carrying. His shoulders were hunched over, almost protectively.
"After you," Snape muttered, gesturing towards the door.
Snape stopped, realisation dawning. He met Lupin's hostile gaze.
"I mean you no harm Lupin. Quite the opposite, in fact. " Lupin just looked at him and Snape saw no change in his blank expression. Nevertheless, Lupin allowed Snape to follow him into the house.
Once they were in the small kitchen, Snape heaved the case onto the table, snapping open the catches. Lupin had crossed his arms and was standing in the middle of the floor. As Snape opened his mouth to speak, Lupin interrupted him angrily.
"What do you want from me, Snape? I can barely believe that you of all people have the gall to come here."
"Lupin, if you'll just..."
"What, listen to you? You've ruined the best thing that's happened to me for years.'
Lupin's voice was quiet, but there was a force behind his words that was making him tremble. Snape could see it in the set of his shoulders and in his clenched hands.
"Listen to me!'
Lupin blinked, opened his mouth, then shut it again, waiting.
'I've come to … To apologise," Snape muttered. "I was wrong. I've acted unfairly. To you, and to Black."
Lupin was staring at him in amazement
"I don't believe it" Snape heard him whisper. Snape locked eyes with the other man. '
'Look in the trunk, Lupin,' Snape said quietly. "It's for you, and there'll be more when you need it."
Snape flipped open the trunk to reveal rows of shiny bottles nestled in the velvet lining. Each was carefully labelled in his powerful sloping hand.
Lupin's reaction was strange to say the least. Instead of looking into the chest, he cast it one cursory glance before moving slowly towards Snape. His eyes were wide with shock. Lupin was looking at him as though seeing him for the first time. Lupin was close enough to touch now, peering closely at Snape, his nostrils dilating very slightly. Snape eyes him fearfully, his heart starting to pound in his chest. His mind had made a very un welcome connection. Lupin would be able to tell, which meant that he, Snape would know his fate.
His mind almost gave into panic. He can smell it, he thought. It's already happened. Involuntarily he reached out to grasp Lupin's shirt, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric.
"Tell me" his whispered, his voice betraying him; it shook with fear. "Just say it, please," he ground out. Lupin stayed still, regarding him with those wide, shocked eyes.
"You've changed, Severus," he said, voice now shaking like Snape's. He reached up to the hand that was now digging painfully into his flesh, and gently detached it. He placed it between his. He paused again before meeting his gaze, "You're a vampire."
*
Lupin sat quietly in his one armchair, waiting. He absentmindedly chewed at one of his nails. He'd ripped half of it off last full moon, and it was annoying him. The foul taste of the Wolfsbane potion still coated his mouth and throat, despite the tea and chocolate. Snape stood in front of the window, nibbling a chunk, but not saying anything. Lupin though he'd never seen anyone look more in need of its healing powers.
They'd been like this for a while now, and while Lupin was comfortably warm, he knew that Snape must be freezing over there by the draughty window. Lupin was thoroughly disturbed. What on earth was Snape going to do now?
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Date: 2004-02-07 05:00 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-10 11:10 am (UTC)By the by
Date: 2004-02-09 12:08 am (UTC)Hope it's a pleasant one and you get nice presents.
*scuttles off*
Cheers,
O
Re: By the by
Date: 2004-02-10 11:05 am (UTC)