McKay (scribbulus_ink) wrote in time_of_storms, @ 2005-09-13 00:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | chronological, joint |
July 5, 1997
Original poster: werwolfoflondon
Music: Killing Me, by Robbie Williams
Frowning, Severus read over the terse words on the parchment, hoping that he was specific enough that the damned lycanthropes could figure out who he meant, while still being vague enough to not endanger Lupin by naming him specifically. After all, the two other werewolves who had been with Lupin at their first - and officially their only meeting - knew that no names had been exchanged. They also had seen Severus' level of contempt for their kind; hopefully that would be enough for them to allow Lupin to come and not attempt to send someone in his place.
In the name of the Dark Lord, I command a meeting with the representative with whom I spoke previously. He and he alone is to use the enclosed object, which I have imbued with a magical transportation spell to bring him to my current location at precisely 7PM today. He will be returned at such time as I have no further questions for him. Failure to obey this request will result in dire consequences.
It was a calculated risk, of course, but Severus had tuned the Portkey to Lupin's use only, so that he didn't get an unexpected and unwelcome little furball appearing in his sanctuary. They wouldn't know that he could do such a thing, and hopefully would just decide that he had messed up the spell.
Rolling the small, empty vial into the note - a clue that Lupin should know it was Severus who had written it - Severus attached it to the leg of the owl he had recently purchased to relay his messages to and fro. He sent the bird off rather perfunctorily, then turned his attention back to completing the complex series of protective spells he had been weaving on the house. He needed to make himself as safe as possible, not just from the Death Eaters, but from the small but quite real possibility that one of the members of the Order might track him down. It would be a horrible irony to be summarily executed by the very people he was trying to help.
When the clock on the mantle chimed the three-quarters hour, Severus pocketed his wand and descended the dark stairs to the small, cramped basement of the country cottage. The place was, as Narcissa had claimed, quite unremarkable on the outside, but the Wizard Hole more than made up for it. He pulled out the key he had been given, and with a small smirk, he tapped the earthen wall on the north side of the cellar. Immediately a small hole opened up, expanding quickly into a doorway large enough to admit him. He stepped through, then tapped the other side of the wall, watching as the doorway shrank once again, leaving a smoothly painted wall of eggshell white in its wake.
On this side, the accommodations were much more pleasing, at least to the Malfoy sense of taste, no doubt. A thick rug covered the stone floor, a chandelier of crystal and gold was suspended from the ceiling, and there was even a fireplace along the far wall, which sprang to life automatically at his entrance. Severus snorted in annoyance at the ostentation, but he hadn't gotten around to doing more than transfiguring the frippy, frilly furniture into chairs and a sofa upholstered in black leather (instead of too tasteful pastel flowers) and the delicate little wooden tables into far sturdier ones that held what books and potions supplies he had thus far had time to acquire. Sinking down in one of the chairs, Severus sighed, allowing his body to relax into the plush leather for what seemed the first time in days. It was in Lupin's hands now; all Severus could do was wait.
Remus didn't pay any attention to the owl that winged its way into camp, heading for Ethan. Although the werewolves scorned Wizards, they relied on owl post, especially in their dealings with Voldemort, and owls weren't an uncommon sight here. He was surprised, however, when Ethan approached him, and he rose to his feet from where he'd been tending the cooking fire, cocking his head as he regarded Ethan with curiosity.
"It's for you." Ethan scowled, obviously not happy with the news. "You've been summoned."
"Me?" Remus went still, his insides freezing as he thought about who could be summoning him and why. What if he'd been discovered? What if he was about to be interrogated? Should he attempt to flee, or was it too late for that?
Ethan thrust the rolled-up bit of parchment into his hand, and he unfurled it and skimmed it, awash with relief when he realized it was from Snape. "I don't suppose I have much choice but to meet with the arrogant bastard, then," he said, injecting a note of annoyance into his voice, which seemed to mollify Ethan somewhat.
"Doesn't sound like you'll be able to take anyone with you." Ethan looked him up and down, as if assessing Remus' thin, ragged form. "You'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine." Remus pocketed the note and the vial and moved away from Ethan, taking his place by the fire again and picking up a stick to poke at the logs as if he wasn't at all concerned about the meeting. Which he wasn't, really. Either Snape had more orders for the werewolves, or he had more news for Remus to carry to the Order. Either way, all he had to do was play messenger boy again.
Drawing up his knees, he rested his head on his folded arms and gazed into the flames. This would be the first time he'd seen Snape since the raid; the attack had occurred just as Snape said it would, which meant Snape hadn't lied to him. Of course, Snape might have given him the information to lull him into a state of false security.
No, he couldn't continue second-guessing himself like this. Either he trusted Snape, or he didn't, and right now, all signs pointed to him being able to trust Snape. So he would put his doubts aside and put his trust in Snape until he was given reason not to. At which time he'd kill Snape without a second thought, he added grimly.
At seven o'clock, he pulled the parchment out of his pocket and unrolled it, letting the vial fall into his bare palm, and immediately, he felt the familiar, disorienting tug as the Portkey transported him away from the camp to... a very nice room, he thought dazedly as he peered at his new surroundings.
Snape was sitting in a nearby chair, and Remus nodded a greeting, slipping the message and vial into his pocket again and clasping his hands behind his back. The room was far more opulent than he was accustomed to or comfortable with, and as tattered and grimy as he was, he felt out of place.
"Snape." He fixed Snape with a questioning look. "You wanted to see me?"
Severus raised a brow and didn't answer. Dark eyes scanned Lupin from head to toe, taking in his appearance, which seemed to have become even worse in the last few weeks. If it weren't for the grey liberally lacing his unkempt, honey brown hair, Severus would have taken him for some thin, homeless child, down to the wide eyes in his dirt-streaked face.
"For Merlin's sake, will you sit down before you fall down, Lupin? Haven't you been eating? You look at though a strong wind would blow you over. How do you expect to be of any use to the Order if you allow yourself to starve to death? Lycanthrope healing won't save you from malnutrition!"
Even as he snarked, Severus was rising to his feet, pointing sternly at the leather sofa and daring Lupin to defy him. At the same time, he was drawing his wand, and he summoned a potion from his private collection, as well as a bowl of fruit and the leftovers of the roast he had had for dinner the previous night, directing the food to the table in front of the sofa. Extending his hand, he offered Lupin the vial. "It's a variation of the Pepper-up, designed to nourish as well as energize."
Acutely aware of his appearance in these surroundings, Remus swiped at the dirt on his cheek with one fist, which accomplished nothing but to smear the dirt, and rubbed his palm against the front of his robe before reaching out to take the offered vial. He couldn't avoid brushing Snape's fingers, noting they were cool in spite of the fire in the hearth and Snape's proximity to it, and he resisted the urge to mutter an apology for the touch as he drew his hand back quickly.
"Thank you," he said politely as he perched on the edge of the sofa and surveyed the food. It may have been leftovers for Snape, but it was a bigger meal than Remus usually saw. Werewolves hunted and foraged, and a few tried to grow a meager garden, but how well they ate depended on how well the forest provided.
"What did you want to see me about?" he asked as he chose an apple from the bowl and began to nibble it. As much as he enjoyed being in clean, warm surroundings, being alone with Snape made him cautious and on-edge, ready to get down to business so he could be on his way.
Sinking back down in his own chair, Severus crossed one leg over the other and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. Dark eyes continued to watch Lupin for several moments before he spoke. "I have orders from the Dark Lord. He was not pleased with the lack of coordination in the previous distraction that he ordered the werewolves to undertake. It was too much, and he feels that too many foolish risks were taken. Therefore, we are to plan the next attack, and present the plans to him before the actual event occurs. This will require you working with me closely on strategy. I refuse to work with any other of those wretched fleabags, so unless you are willing to spend some time in my company, planning a believable attack upon the next village, I am afraid that he will determine that your band is not nearly as useful to him as he believed."
"He asked for a distraction," Remus replied mildly. "I'd say he got one. I'm sorry to hear he wasn't happy about it." Apple juice ran down his fingers, and he stopped himself short of licking it away, not wanting a mouthful of grime, and he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket instead.
A scowl crossed Severus' face, and his jaw tightened in irritation. "Obviously mayhem is far more natural for your kind than he had considered. But unrestrained violence is not conducive to his plans, at least not at this point. The goal at this point is to strike terror into the hearts of Wizards. If the Muggles see your kind as nothing more than a band of terrorists, they will move in with things that even lycanthropes might have trouble fighting. Wizards and werewolves are powerful, yes. But the Muggles outnumber us thousands to one. It would not be a war, it would be a bloodbath. We must avoid this. Drawing the attention of the Muggles could destroy what we are fighting for every bit as effectively as the Dark Lord being victorious."
"I don't disagree." Remus finished off the apple and put the core aside, wiping his hands fastidiously with his handkerchief. At least it got the juice off, he thought. "But that many werewolves given free rein is a recipe for disaster. We're social creatures. Pack. We feed off group energy. If Voldemort wants a more covert operation, then I suggest sending in fewer werewolves and keeping them separated as much as possible, perhaps overseen by someone else."
He stared down at his hands in his lap, suddenly not hungry as he realized what he was saying and what it meant. He was helping the wrong side somehow, and he wondered if this was part of Snape's trap until pragmatism asserted itself. This wasn't a trap. This was an unpleasant but necessary part of the role he was now playing. As distasteful as it was, he couldn't be a spy and keep his hands clean. Literally as well as figuratively, he thought with a mirthless little smile.
"All right," Severus said, his own lips twisting as he considered Lupin's words about "pack", reminding Severus as it did of James Potter and Sirius Black. It was petty of him, perhaps, to think about old insults at this point, given everything that had happened, but it was a knee-jerk reaction decades old, and he could no more stop it than he could have stopped himself from breathing. "I assure you I am quite well aware of the danger of group energy, given my own experiences. Never underestimate the cruelty and inventiveness of hormonally driven idiots in large numbers." His voice was bitter, and he started up from his chair, striding away toward the fireplace as though he could outrun his memories and his anger.
"I remember. I experienced the group energy of hormonal adolescents too," Remus said, an old twinge of disappointment making his words sharper than he intended. "Albeit only for a year."
He didn't say because of you, but he didn't have to. They both knew who was responsible for Remus being outed to the school. Remus didn't - couldn't - deny his own culpability, but Snape's petty vindictiveness was all his own.
Perhaps it was the tiny bit of shame he felt for his own anger at the past that caused Severus to erupt at Lupin's insinuation. His face flamed and he spun around, crossing back to Lupin in a flare of black robes. He didn't even think as he leaned over Lupin, putting one hand on the sofa on each side of Lupin's head, trapping him as he glared down, black eyes burning with emotion. "I outed you, yes, Lupin, but it was no worse than what you and your friends did to me in school, was it? And I did not cost you your precious job, no matter what you believe. Did Dumbledore tell you the position was cursed when you took it? Did he mention that you couldn't keep it for more than a year when he gave it to you? I never had any interest in that damned job, and it was not because of Dumbledore's supposed fear of it corrupting me! It was because no one who ever takes it can stay for more than a year... and there was no guarantee that their method of departure would include a heart that was still beating!"