Ribbons (bronze_ribbons) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2008-01-16 14:20:00 |
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Current music: | British Sea Power, "Carrion" |
Entry tags: | fic: pg, trading places challenge |
TRADING PLACES: Wax, PG
Title: Wax
Author: bronze_ribbons
Rating: PG
Pairings: Lupin/Snape
Challenge: Trading Places. Inspired by omni_sama's marvelous Developing a Potion without Taking the Credit (or: Severus' Messy Desk)
Summary: What do you consider worse -- reaching beyond one's grasp, or refusing what's within reach?
Disclaimer: No malice intended, no profit expected.
Words: ~ 1400
Beta: the ever-wonderful aunty_marion
13 January 1990
It was good luck, for a change, that he had come across Belby's article the previous month. He had got as far as he could with the potion without giving himself away, but he could do no more unless he enlisted the help of others. He was not currently acquainted with any werewolves upon whom he could test his recipe, and he did not wish to confide in anyone who had the power to arrange their cooperation. He felt it would be highly imprudent of him to display any interest whatsoever in alleviating the Dark Creatures' agonies. It would be tantamount to an invitation to the general public to invade his privacy: the masses were incapable of believing in good deeds performed without personal motives. He had no wish to taint his accomplishment with their asinine speculations about his hopes for love, vengeance, or fame. Let the rabid rabble dissect Belby's romantic history instead.
31 May 1998
As Harry levitated a tray onto Lupin's lap, he said, "Remus, you look like hell."
Lupin wheezed, "Earlier this month, I looked dead."
Harry grimaced. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
Lupin said, kindly, "You had other things on your mind at the time."
"Eat your soup," Harry ordered. "Tonks literally shed both tears and blood to make it."
"Spent all morning chopping onions, did she?" Lupin frowned. "I never even asked her to cook with magic when we were married!"
Harry said, "I know you didn't. There was no stopping her, though -- she's keen on pretending she doesn't miss her magic."
"She's overly keen on playing pretend, period," Lupin muttered. "Stupidest goddamn scheme this side of King's Cross."
Harry regarded Lupin with amusement. "Considering you were the one who came up with the scheme --"
"Which makes it all the more pathetic, how you lot fell for it. And it didn't bring the boy's real father back. Not that I ever really believed it could." Lupin scowled at his meal and then sank back against his pillows. "I'm sorry, Harry. I do feel like hell, but I shouldn't take it out on you."
Harry said, "I rather like it. You're the first person I've dealt with today who isn't lying to me about how grotty they feel. Everyone's insisting they're fine when they're not, and it's driving me spare."
"Because you can't help them, or because it means you don't get a break from acting stoic?"
Harry couldn't quite keep the plaintive note out of his voice. "Is it so wrong, wanting honest answers?"
"Wrong, no. Unrealistic, yes." Lupin poked at a charred morsel in the broth, sighed, and levitated the bowl toward the window. It had barely settled onto the sill when a scrawny black cat padded up to it, sniffed at it with palpable disdain, and then proceeded to gobble up the contents anyway.
"Shameless creature," Harry said.
"Whatever it takes to survive," Lupin said. "You can now truthfully tell Tonks that every single drop was consumed."
"Remus."
Lupin settled back against his pillows once more. "You do realise they're not doing it to spite you, yes? People can't help being idiots. Especially if there's any debt or guilt in the mix."
"That's ridiculous. They don't owe me any--"
"I know. And I know you've tried to tell them that." Lupin's eyes were on the cat rather than Harry. Then his lips unexpectedly curved up. "You might consider being less Gryffindor and more Slytherin about it. If no one's willing to concede they're less than fine, you won't be fixing things that aren't broken when you choose to do things that happen to help them out. It would be churlish of them to complain about mysterious improvements in their lives..."
"Especially if they never find out I'm responsible?" Harry stared at the cat, who ignored him in favour of grooming a paw. The room was wholly silent except for the faint, almost imperceptible rasp of the cat's tongue against its fur.
Then Harry grinned. "If Snape could do it, so can I." If looks could kill, the cat's glare would have slain him on the spot. His grin widening, Harry said to Lupin, "You'll help me, won't you? I'm not as stupid as some of my professors liked to think, but I'm no match for Hermione."
"It would be my pleasure." Lupin's smile resembled the smile that appeared on his face whenever he reminisced about Harry's father. "I might even demand a favour, in return."
"Anything," Harry said eagerly. "You already have something in mind?"
Lupin Summoned a folder from his desk, drew three large photographs out of it, and handed them to Harry. He said, "If you could find someone capable of brewing that recipe --"
The cat suddenly yowled and launched itself from the sill to the bed. Lupin hastily Petrified the creature before its claws could descend upon the precious documents.
Harry's eyes became damp as he deciphered the spiky handwriting. When he'd finished reading the letter, he had to blink hard and clear his throat several times before he could manage, "He never wanted me to know he loved my mother, either."
Lupin had pulled the still-immobilised cat to his chest and was scritching it between its ears. It looked simultaneously infuriated and blissful as Lupin said, "Needs must. Severus won't forgive me for sharing his secrets, but he's not in a position to protest." His fingers gently glided from the cat's nose to its tail.
Harry looked as though he wanted to say something to the cat, but he settled for a "Consider it done" to Lupin as he rolled up the photographs. He Summoned the bowl from the windowsill, murmuring charms to cushion it as he stuffed it into a knapsack, adding the tray and cutlery he had brought with him. With the roll in his hand and the knapsack on his shoulder, he said to Lupin, "I'll see you in a week, yeah?"
"That sounds like a plan, Harry. Talk to you then."
After the door shut behind the boy, Lupin ended the Body-Bind curse on the cat. Instead of revenging itself upon him or stalking away in a huff, however, it merely slumped against him.
"Hey," Lupin said, alarmed. "What --" He cut himself off as the cat began to purr and to knead his ribs. "What -- hey, that tickles!" he gasped. He scooped up the cat and lifted it so that they were eye to eye.
"I'm not sorry, you know. I can take better care of you once the moon doesn't wreck me each time it waxes full." The fur bristled in his palms. "Stop that. I know you don't need me, but I can make your life easier and you know it. And I have no compunction about giving Harry more reasons to want to help both of us. Some Slytherin you are -- you're as stupidly noble as everyone else he knows."
He smirked as the cat half-heartedly swatted at his nose. When he lowered it back onto his lap, it butted its head against his knuckles, and he resumed stroking it. After a few minutes, Lupin piled all but one of the pillows onto the chair next to the bed, placed the cat next to where his shoulder would be, and drew up the duvet to cover them both, such that only their heads were visible.
"Sweet cat," Lupin drowsily murmured, his thumb lightly rubbing against the two bald dents under its chin. "Even if you never change back, there's still so much we can do. Your papers are a complete disgrace -- it'll take years to sort them out, if you leave it up to me. Never mind making archivable copies -- Pince would spit on your grave if she saw all the stains. And there's other stuff, too -- dark spells to detangle, artefacts to repair..."
In the instant before he slipped fully into sleep, he felt the mattress dip, accompanied by a faint but unmistakable alteration of scent from feline to human. The warmth from the body suddenly enveloping his felt like a flood of direct sunlight -- like being drenched in a flow of liquefied wax. Lupin happily surrendered to the sensation of falling, knowing that even without wings, he would not be lost.