InsaneJournal

Fic: Maska Komodias (overall rating NC-17; part 4/5)
Title: Maska Komodias
Chapter: 4: Cowards
Author: Omni (aka: rip_von_christ)
Rating: Overall= NC-17; current chapter= PG
Pairing: Lupin/Snape
Warnings: None for this chapter
Dislcaimer: I claim no rights to the characters, just the situations in which I'm placing them.
Summary: After the events of OotP and before HBP. Lupin is about to head out on a mission for which he is ill equipped. Severus, it seems, is the only one who can assist him. The last thing Severus needs at the moment is one more task to weigh him down, when he's already trying to cope with all that Albus is asking of him.
Note: This is also longer than the previous chapters...almost twice as long, actually. Aheh. But anyway, I think there should only be one last chapter, maybe. Yay!

Previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

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Who the devil could Black have been referring to? It was a riddle that plagued Severus, despite his best efforts to put it out of mind. Really, it didn’t matter to him whom Lupin loved. Surely it was just…morbid curiosity. Yes, that’s it—morbid curiosity. Nothing more.

But damn it all, who could it be?

Black had made mention that it was someone Lupin had been interested in during their school days. So, with whom had he been close, back then? That was still alive, that is… Severus had followed him around quite a bit back in those days, but he honestly could not recall seeing Lupin interact with many people aside from his dorm mates. Certainly Black wasn’t implying that Lupin wanted Pettigrew!

Think, Severus, what clues were revealed during the Occlumency lesson? There was someone with black hair turning a corner…that had certainly been a mysterious little flash of a moment. At the time, Severus had assumed it was Black’s hair, but perhaps it was not. Perhaps it was the mystery man’s—and Severus was quite certain it must be a man, because of the pronouns Black had used during that argument.

Oh… Oh, God, surely not…

Was Lupin in love with Potter? Ever since his time in Azkaban, Black hadn’t exactly been playing Exploding Snap with a full deck. It was obvious to anyone and everyone that he often confused the younger Potter with the older. Could he have been implying that Lupin fancied the older Potter, only to now transfer such interest onto the younger? Well, that certainly would explain all that time Lupin had wanted to spend alone with young Mr. Potter back when he was serving as professor… Even so, dear Lord! Potter had been only thirteen back then. Even now the boy was only sixteen or so—still a child!

“Severus?” Albus’ voice came to him as if through a wall, and Severus blinked to collect his thoughts. Everyone around the table was now staring at him, awaiting some sort of response to…something. What had the question been? Blast. He blamed his absentmindedness on the unfortunate fact that the meetings were once more taking place in Black’s old house. Surrounded by the backdrop of several of Lupin’s memories, Severus couldn’t help dwelling on them.

“Forgive me, Albus,” he said with a wince-like smile and slight bow of the head. “It seems my recent duties have caused me to be overtired. Could you please repeat the question?”

Those twinkling blue eyes tried to capture his, but Severus was slippery and refused to be caught. It was true that he was tired, and even the great Severus Snape’s Occlumency skills could be weakened with fatigue. “The Malfoys, Severus.”

His spine went rigid, but he did not give into the impulse to glance at everyone else at the meeting. Why was Albus bringing them up now, here? He’d already been told everything… “What about them, Sir?”

“Do you feel that they are in danger?”

Severus’ dark eyes shot up, too shocked to avoid the old man’s gaze, and in fact forcing contact with his own. What on earth was Albus playing at, now? “In danger?”

“From Voldemort,” Albus elaborated.

Finally seeing the old man’s plot, Severus again slipped on his mask and feigned contemplation. “Perhaps,” he eventually conceded, nodding ever so slightly. “Lucius greatly displeased him with his failure and subsequent capture at the Ministry. I imagine that the Dark Lord will be seeking some method of punishment for him via his family.”

There were shocked murmurs from all around the table, but Severus still refused to look at any of them. “Is there something that can be done to protect them?” asked Lupin, and damn it all, but Severus looked. Out of all of them, Severus thought Lupin would be the least concerned with the fates of the Malfoys. It had been Draco, after all, who spread the secret that Severus had not-so-accidentally let slip. Severus also knew how ill Black must have spoken of dear cousin Narcissa and her muggle-born-hating husband.

It was Albus this time who feigned contemplation. Severus only knew it was false because he knew the man far too well to believe Albus didn’t already have plans and contingencies. “There are some things, yes… I’ll speak with some of you personally about possible precautions. Severus, I would especially appreciate it if you could keep an eye on young Draco for me this year.”

As if he wasn’t going to be doing that already. He knew the reason for the public order, however. Now no one would think it odd for him to be constantly on Draco’s tail. “As you wish, Sir. You know that the safety of the students has always been my top priority.”

Blue eyes turned into little, shiny half-moons on an old, wrinkled face. “I know, Severus.”

With a strange little pang that he wished not to examine, Severus cast a quick glance towards Lupin. Curiously enough, he found the werewolf looking contrite, eyes downcast. So Lupin understood why Severus had let the cat—er—wolf out of the bag, it seemed. At least the man wasn’t a total idiot, even if he evidently fancied children.

No, Severus, that’s not being fair. Lupin had proved his competency these past few weeks, quickly learning each new technique Severus threw at him. He had meant what he said that first night, on the steps; Lupin had always been a quick study.

The rest of the meeting passed without incident, which could only mean Moody was too drunk or too tired to pitch any fits. Why Albus insisted on letting that senile old git take part in such delicate matters, Severus had no idea. In any case, the meeting had even ended earlier than usual, and there were no new developments to discuss with Albus, so Severus thought perhaps he and Lupin could work a bit more on his training. He was fairly certain the werewolf was almost ready to be released into the wild.

It seemed that he was not alone in this idea, as Lupin’s amber eyes quickly sought him out while everyone milled about the room. Severus actually felt a slight smile tug at his lips—a smirk, surely, not a smile—and he cocked his head to the side with a quick flick towards the door. The smile that bloomed on Lupin’s face was pure light, and far too out of place in that disgusting kitchen. An act, Severus wondered, supposing Lupin was merely making use of his newfound skills. No, he knew it wasn’t an act. For some unfathomable reason, Lupin seemed determined to befriend Severus. It was something that he’d known since the first time he handed Lupin a goblet of Wolfsbane, and the man had smiled up at him with honest eyes.

“Got a minute, Remus?” The advent of Tonks at Lupin’s side threw their entire momentum out of whack. As if a switch had been flicked, the light died in Lupin’s eyes, and his face was again one of his stupid Grecian masks.

“For God’s sake, man,” moaned Severus, striding up to them with such force that his robe and cloak billowed about him. “Have you forgotten everything I’ve taught you?” Both Tonks and Lupin turned to him in confusion, and Severus resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. “All the world is but a what, wolf? Keep that in mind, will you. Not a moment off the stage.” Understanding flashed in those dark amber eyes, much to Severus’ satisfaction. Now, for the intruder…

“Sorry, Professor, but I need to steal Remus for a minute.” Turning to face the girl, Severus was surprised to see brown hair instead of some garish pink or purple. She also appeared to be tired and worn, the usual healthy glow gone from her cheeks. Perhaps he should let her have a moment with Lupin, after all. There might be something very important on which she’d need his consultation.

What was even more surprising than a drab Tonks was a curt Lupin. “Not now, Tonks. I’ve already had this talk with you, and I don’t have time for this at the moment.” Severus’ arm was suddenly gripped by the werewolf, and he was being pulled towards the door. “Good-night.”

“What in God’s name was that about?” Severus demanded, once they had flooed back to Hogwarts. The kicked puppy look on Tonks’ face flittered through Severus’ mind, building up his confusion even more.

Without asking permission, Lupin headed straight for the liquor cabinet and pulled out firewhisky. “She has a crush on me,” he said, pouring himself a glass and tossing back its contents with one quick flick of the head. “She insists it’s love, while I keep trying to tell her that she doesn’t know me well enough to love me. I’m not right for her, anyway.”

What was it with Lupin and children? Was he some sort of pedophilic magnet? Considering Tonks was little older than Potter, Severus couldn’t think it would be the age issue which would be turning Lupin away. The gender issue, perhaps? As far as Severus knew, Lupin had only been involved with—or interested in—men. “Have you told her that you’re not interested in women?”

The glass knocked loudly against the top of the cabinet, and Lupin let out a strange little laugh, his head bowed. “No. No one knows that, except you and Sirius. Maybe Peter. I’m sure he probably noticed, back in school. James and Lily knew, but they’re…”

Severus didn’t even flinch at Lily’s name, but he didn’t feel much like congratulating himself just then. “Black is, too,” he reminded.

An ironic smile tugged at Lupin’s lips, but his eyes continued to stare blankly at the glass. “Yes. Sorry. Must have been because we were having a meeting there, same as before…”

“Don’t apologize to me; I don’t really care if you’re in some sort of denial about his death.”

“I’m not. It’s just…going to take some getting used to.”

Thinking about that memory of the two of them fighting, and then looking at this grieving man in front of him, Severus thought Black was an utter fool. It was obvious that Lupin loved him. “We should continue your training,” he said, his voice not nearly as hard-edged as usual. When Lupin turned to face him, he turned away, heading towards a chair. “You’re nearly ready.”

“It isn’t what you think, Severus.”

He froze before turning to sit in the chair, his back still to Lupin. “You know what I think, do you?”

“You think I love him, and can’t accept that he’s dead.”

Severus scoffed, but still did not turn. “I told you, I don’t really care.”

“Do you not? Not even a little?”

Finally he turned, spinning around with a snap of black cloth and impatient black eyes. “What exactly is it that you want me to say, wolf? You want me to give you a little hug and tell you everything’s going to be alright? You want perhaps that I should make some tea and biscuits to help soothe you? Maybe tell you he’s in a better place? What?”

Damn the lessons, and damn Lupin for being so bloody good at it all. The werewolf stood there with a blank, unreadable face. His mask was perfect, without even the truth peeking through his eyes. “No,” he simply said, and then he was looking back at his glass.

Severus felt the urge to accio that glass, then toss it at the wall. Instead, he stood in tense silence, waiting for Lupin to finally snap out of his ridiculous funk and join him at the chairs for his lesson.

“Do you use a decoy, too?” At first, Severus did not understand the question, but Lupin’s next words served to clarify. “Or is there no one you love, so therefore no need?”

It would be fair, a little voice in his head told him, to share such secrets with Lupin, after all the secrets Severus had forced from Lupin’s mind. He promptly told that voice to bugger off. His mouth, however, seemed to have been paying attention to that little voice. “I do. I use a decoy.”

Lupin looked away from the glass, his eyes matching their honeyed tone in the viscous way they moved over Severus. “Who?”

He was not clear as to whether that question pertained to the decoy or the one he loved. Severus decided to apply it to the former, as opposed to the latter. “A dead person, same as you. Well,” he paused, and a shadow of a smirk played across his mouth, “not exactly the same, since I’d never care for that mongrel of yours, even in fictitious dramatization.”

“It’s safer to use someone who’s dead,” Lupin softly restated the point from their conversation after his first Occlumency lesson. “Honestly, though, I’ve not felt that way for him since we were children.”

Why did Lupin keep thinking that Severus would care? “Fascinating. Can we start, now?”

“I’m leaving in two days.”

“What?” He shouldn’t be so riled over this news, he knew. Lupin’s training had gone well, and Severus was confident that he could probably hold his own.

“Albus told me, before the meeting. I’m to head out in two days. I might still come by Hogwarts from time to time, as a sort of silent guard, trading shifts with other Order members.” Stepping away from the cabinet, Lupin cocked his head slightly. “Do you think I’m not ready?”

Looking at that perfect mask, Severus could find no faults. “You are. You’ll do fine.”

“That’s quite the compliment, coming from someone like you, who usually thinks everyone is a bumbling incompetent.”

Severus nodded and turned to return to the fireplace. “If there will be no lesson, I shall call it a night,” he informed his (former) pupil.

“Wait.” And he did, despite his better judgment. “We could have a lesson. A final exam, perhaps? Or…we could simply…talk.”

His usual sneer tugged up at his lip as he turned around to face Lupin once more. “And just what would we have to talk about?”

Lupin shrugged and moved to pour himself—there really was no other word for it—into one of the chairs. “You could share with me whatever other words of wisdom and advice you have from your years as a spy.”

Those dark amber eyes avoided his own, and Severus grew suspicious. Despite the casual posture and relaxed expression, there was something upsetting Lupin. With a great deal of reluctance, Severus moved back to the chairs and took his usual seat. They sat there for a few moments, staring at each other in a strange, almost tense silence. At last, Lupin sighed and lowered his eyes to his lap. “I’m scared,” he admitted.

“You’ll do fine.” Words of assurance were rare jewels when coming from Severus’ mouth, and they brought an unconscious smile to Lupin’s lips.

“Thank you, Severus. I’m more scared, though, that I’ll be leaving behind an empty life. Death isn’t what frightens me, it’s the thought of dying with so many regrets and loose ends…” Severus said nothing, and Lupin looked back up at his face. “Doesn’t that ever frighten you, sometimes? I mean… That person you love… Does that person even know you care?”

“No,” he said simply. Then, realizing that there had been more than one question tossed his way, he elaborated. “That person does not know, and it’s for the best that it stays that way. As for whether or not I fear dying with so many regrets… My life is nothing but a string of regrets,” he admitted, for the first time. Severus wondered absently why he was doing this, and if Lupin would even be able to appreciate it all. “I have come to terms with this, though. There is no use worrying over what can’t be helped.”

Again Lupin’s gaze fell away, and that grey-streaked sandy head bobbed in agreement. “I know that, but… What is the point of life if you never live it?”

“What?”

“All my life,” said Lupin, “I have done what I thought to be the proper thing. It was always what someone else wanted, however. I never acted for myself. I’m a coward, Severus.”

Severus snorted, which was probably not the polite response to such an admission. “I know.” When Lupin again faced him, Severus tilted his head and regarded him with cold, judgmental eyes. “You were always a coward, letting your friends walk all over you.”

Instead of looking upset, Lupin actually smirked and his eyes seemed to darken dangerously. “You were the same.” Those words shocked the chill from Severus’ gaze, and this time it was the pair of black eyes which retreated. “You never lived for yourself. Even now, you deny yourself any chance of a happy life, of being your own man.”

“I cannot afford any of that at present. Some things are more important than my personal contentment, Lupin. If you wish to call me a coward because I sacrifice for the sake of everyone, then—”

“How long have you loved that person, Severus?”

He couldn’t help but search Lupin’s eyes now, trying to read his intentions without the aid of Legilimency. “I would not use the word ‘love,’ in regards to my feelings,” Severus said at last, because he felt it was the only thing safe enough to say.

“Fine, then.” Lupin tilted his head in a relenting nod. “How long have you lusted after, fancied, had feelings for, what-have-you…”

Clenching his jaw, Severus looked away again. Memories came unbidden to his mind, as crisp and clear as if viewing them in a pensieve. That’s how they always were for him, though. He spent the majority of his life pretending to be something that he was not, and sometimes he would almost believe his own lies. Then there would be moments where he was alone, when the mark wouldn’t burn and Albus had no orders for him, and he was free to remember who he was. He never wasted time wondering who he could have been, because that bridge had been burned long ago. However, in those moments, he would also remember the ones for whom he secretly cared.

Of course, there were often memories of Lily—sweet, laughing Lily, eternally youthful. While some of his memories of Lily were manipulated to fool prying minds, the majority of them were untainted and beautiful. Truly he loved her, but not in the way anyone was meant to think. She was a family that he never had, a sister with whom to share secrets and jokes. She was also something always out of reach, like a star burning too brightly and beautifully for him to ever be able to hold onto without being burned. He was never meant to keep her as his and his alone, but he had tried. Tried and failed.

There were other memories, too, and those were what flashed through his mind in that instant as he sat across from Remus Lupin. Memories of a sad prince trapped in a tower, surrounded by hideous beasts disguised as children. Severus had spent a great deal of time in his childhood envisioning himself as a handsome knight that would come and save the prince from his tower. While he was there, he’d save Lily, too, of course. In retrospect, he found it almost funny how he and James Potter were probably always at each other’s throats due to jealousy. Potter because he inaccurately assumed that Severus was his love rival, and Severus because he wanted to trade places with Potter…or Black…or Pettigrew.

He remembered the first time he saw the slanted, darkening sunlight cut through the library in order to weave itself into strands of messy hair. Years would tarnish that dark gold and lace it with silver.

Realizing Lupin was still awaiting an answer, Severus offered one in a faint voice. “A long time.”

“Since when?”

“My youth.”

“Have you ever told that person?”

“No. Of course not. No one knows.” As it should be, he added mentally.

“Then you can’t use the excuse of sacrificing for the greater good. You’ve been denying yourself a chance at happiness since before you even became a spy.”

Severus Snape hated admitting when anyone was ever right, if it meant admitting he was ever wrong. “It isn’t that simple. There are reasons as to why I could never pursue the person, even if I hadn’t become a spy.” Slowly he moved his eyes back to Lupin, sharpening his gaze and lacing it with poison. “Unlike some, however, I never found myself involved in an unwanted romantic relationship with someone else, merely to placate my friends.”

It obviously stung, as Lupin flinched slightly and looked away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have compared your actions—or inactions—to mine. I don’t know all the details, so it really isn’t my place to judge.”

“No, it very well isn’t.”

“And, I never meant to imply you were a coward. You are braver than anyone I think I’ve ever known.” At this, Lupin gave a strange little choked laugh. “If only you could transfer some of that bravery to me. God, I never should have been sorted into Gryffindor. Why wasn’t I Ravenclaw?...”

“Albus thinks I should have been sorted into Gryffindor,” Severus heard himself say, then instantly berated himself for the slip.

Lupin smiled, eyes going dreamy. “That would have been lovely.”

“That would have been hell,” corrected Severus with another snort.

The smile on Lupin’s lips turned soft, and his eyes remained unfocused. “Perhaps. But I think it would have worked out well enough. Maybe I’d have had a real friend in there…”

It is strange how the body reacts to certain things without fully consulting the mind. Severus felt his chest constrict and his throat clench. Even his hands clasped the arms of the chair in a white-knuckle grip. “There was nothing stopping you from making friends outside of your tower.” As a faint little afterthought, he realized that Lupin couldn’t have fancied Potter, if he was so unhappy with his entire Gryffindor gang.

“Aside from me being a coward…I know…” Lupin let his eyelids fall, then slowly opened his eyes again, but he did not look at Severus. “I did try a few times, though. I tried to tell the boy I liked that I wanted to be friends. I was nice to him, always. He didn’t care for me at all, though. At least at first. But, it looked like was starting to be a little more trusting… He…watched me…a lot. I’m not sure why he did, but back then my childish pride liked to think it was because he might have fancied me, too.” The world was no longer his stage, because Lupin forgot all his training when he tried to smile in that moment. Or, perhaps he wasn’t fully there, in the world, in that moment. Regardless, Severus let it slide, that time, as he watched a sad smile cut across Lupin’s face. “Then Sirius ruined everything.”

“You could have refused him, you know. Told him you wanted to stay just friends.”

The laugh that came from Lupin was disturbing in its potent mixture of emotions—pain, anger, bitterness, and such crushing sadness. “That wasn’t it. He did something else to ruin things for me and the boy.”

Severus was afraid to ask, so he didn’t press. Instead, he frowned and hated Black even more.

Lupin let out a sigh in an attempt to drain himself of all those unwanted emotions. After a rejuvenating breath, he looked back up at Severus with a less-pained smile. “You know, I can’t imagine who it is you might like. I’ve tried to figure it out, but I have to admit that you’re very good at keeping it a secret. Could you at least tell me what it is you like about the person? Intelligence, charm, looks, smile?”

“Not the smile,” Severus said without thinking, something he seemed to have a habit of in Lupin’s presence these days. “I hate that person’s smile.”

Brows coming together and wrinkling his forehead, Lupin gave Severus a quizzical look. “What do you mean? Isn’t it normal to find the person you like’s smile to be—”

“It’s a lie,” he said, then clarified: “The smile is.” With a sneer, he rose to his feet and headed once again to the fireplace. “It’s always been a lie, and I hate looking at it.”

“Severus,” Lupin called, scrambling to his feet and pursuing him. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because I have things to do, and this conversation serves no purpose.”

Lupin grabbed his arm before he could reach for the floo powder. “Will you return tomorrow? You can give me that final exam.”

Studying Lupin’s face and the barely-concealed desperation he found there, Severus was fairly certain that Lupin didn’t want him to return to administer a “final exam.” There was something else, something that Lupin, in his cowardice, had been unable to say or do that evening. Pulling his arm gently free and reaching for the powder, Severus said, “I can make no promises.”

“Then let me say one last thing, before you go.”

Severus gripped the powder, but turned slightly to give Lupin his full attention. The werewolf swallowed back his fear and looked Severus in the eye. “I don’t want to wait until the war is over, because it might be too late by then,” explained Lupin, who still seemed to be trying to muster all his courage. “I just want to ask you…no, that’s not right. I want to tell you… Shit, this was easier when I rehearsed it to myself earlier…”

“Out with it, man; I haven’t got all night.”

“I never forgave him for what he did.” Before Severus could become utterly confused, Lupin plowed onward. “Sirius. I never forgave him for what he did to you that time in sixth year.” This was something Lupin had said before, so Severus really didn’t see why he was making such a fuss just then. “Maybe it was all just wishful thinking, but I feel that it ruined any…that it ruined everything. Maybe there was nothing to ruin…like I said, wishful thinking…but… I felt like I couldn’t even try, after that. Why would you—anyone—be interested in a monster, right…so…”

“Don’t say another word,” Severus commanded, voice dark, as he turned away.

“I know I’m supposed to keep the truth a secret, but… I trust you. Besides, you could hardly use yourself against me.”

“I could. I could take advantage of the information you just leaked in order to manipulate you.”

“You won’t, though. I trust you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“What? That I trust you?” Lupin grabbed his arm again, gently wrapping those long fingers around him and urging him to turn around. “But I do.”

Clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, Severus jerked his arm free. “You shouldn’t.” With that, he stepped into the fireplace, and was gone in a wash of green flames before he could allow himself a second thought.

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To be continued…

Chapter 5