McKay (scribbulus_ink) wrote in time_of_storms, @ 2005-10-18 09:19:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | chronological, joint |
August 11, 1997
Original poster: werwolfoflondon
Music: Wicked Little Town, from Hedwig and the Angry Inch
The large spoon was a comfort in Severus' hand as he stared sightlessly into the thickening potion. One stir counterclockwise, seven clockwise, add a pinch of aconite, then repeat. It was a familiar ritual, one he had done for years, but not lately. Not since Lupin went to join the werewolves, but Severus didn't let himself dwell too much about the myriad complex reasons he was brewing it now.
It had been over two weeks since he and Lupin had... Severus didn't even know how to phrase what had happened between them in a way that didn't make him either want to snarl with self-loathing or hurl something against the wall - preferably Lupin's skull, body attached or no. He winced as the image which accompanied that thought in his mind ended up with Lupin pressed against the wall, just as Severus had been.
This is not going to happen! Severus scowled into the cauldron, forcing the image away. Just because Lupin had been the first one to touch him in years was no reason for Severus to be imagining it happening again. It would not happen again. Lupin had a lover, and Severus had a mission. He should hate himself - did hate himself - for having given in the first time to the power of his need. And hated Lupin even more for having driven him to it.
It had merely been pity, or possibly even a play for some kind of power on Lupin's part. Certainly he had brought Severus off, but he hadn't done anything else, hadn't tried to make the encounter more than an almost clinical sort of favor, no doubt being done to calm Severus down from the fury (he did not call it panic, even to himself) that he had been experiencing. Lupin didn't want Severus, anyway, for certainly Lupin could have used his strength to take anything that he had wanted, no matter what Severus might have wished. Lupin therefore obviously had no interest in him. Which was just fine with Severus. Because Severus didn't want Lupin, either.
And Severus refused to acknowledge the inner voice that mocked him for being a liar.
A strange tingling buzz against his hip caused Severus to stiffen in surprise, before he realized that the magical parchment that he and Lupin had created was being activated. For several moments Severus ignored it, jaw tightening as he continued to stir and stir, until he finally reached a stopping point. Even then he moved slowly and deliberately to put the spoon down, wipe his hands, and lower the heat beneath the cauldron before finally reaching almost reluctantly into his pocket and pulling out the parchment and his wand. Tapping the surface, he muttered "Lifeline," then watched as the lines of text appeared in Lupin's small, neat, almost finicky handwriting.
I need to see you.
Well, that was succinct enough, although Severus snorted as he walked to his desk and pulled out the enchanted quill. "If you must. Apparate here, I have set the wards to allow you access." He looked at the words critically, then erased them, giving his hands something to do. At least this was convenient; it saved Severus the need to contact Lupin about the potion, after all.
Severus took his own sweet time about responding to Remus' message, which alarmed Remus at first. As minutes ticked by and no response was forthcoming, Remus began to wonder what was keeping Severus from replying. It wasn't as if he had a lot to do, cooped up as he was, so the only thing that could conceivably keep him was if he'd been summoned.
What if Severus was with Voldemort even now? What was happening? Was he being sent off on a mission? Was he in danger?
Then the parchment vibrated, and as soon as Remus tapped it and murmured, "lifeline", Severus' writing began to bloom slowly on the parchment Remus had been staring at, as if willing words to appear, and worry gave way to amused annoyance. Severus wasn't off risking his life at the moment after all; likely this had been nothing more than a little power play, his delay in responding meant to show Remus that he wouldn't be at Remus' beck and call.
Tucking the parchment back into his pocket, he moved deeper into the forest away from the camp where the crack of Apparation couldn't be heard, and he closed his eyes, visualizing Severus' room. A familiar tug sent a wave of disorientation over him, and when he opened his eyes again, he was there, but Severus wasn't in his chair as usual.
"Severus?" He looked around and finally spotted Severus in the far corner of the room, the familiar acrid stench of the Wolfsbane potion guiding him in the right direction.
That gave him pause; Severus hadn't brewed the potion for him since Remus left Hogwarts, and he hadn't dared to ask if Severus might consider continuing, knowing the answer would be no. So why was he brewing it now? Had Voldemort ordered him to prepare it for Greyback?
Yes, that was probably it, he decided, drawing himself up as he strode across the room to join Severus at his worktable. As he drew nearer and got a better view of Severus, he frowned; Severus' face was pale and drawn, and considering how stressed Severus had seemed every time Remus had seen him lately, that he looked worse than usual was saying something.
"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning on the table across from Severus and peering at him with growing concern.
Severus glanced at Lupin, then went back to stirring the potion. "Nothing is wrong. As I recall, you contacted me," he said curtly, before sitting the spoon down and reaching for a ladle. No doubt Lupin was referring to how Severus looked, but there wasn't a bloody thing Severus could do about it. He was not going to admit that he basically hadn't slept since the last time Lupin had been there, the incident between them and his own dark thoughts preying on him and robbing him of rest. It had been tempting to take a dreamless sleep potion, but Severus knew that once he started down that path, it would become dangerous.
Not looking at Lupin, Severus carefully measured out the Wolfsbane potion into six vials, stoppering them securely. Then he picked up a goblet, scooping the last of the potion from the cauldron and into the metal vessel. Face impassive, he held out the goblet and raised a brow. "Here. Take this now before it gets cold. Then tell me why you needed to see me."
"You made this for me?" Remus blinked, surprised by the unexpected gesture. A slow, pleased smile tugged at his lips, and he gave Severus a look of shy gratitude as he accepted the goblet. "Thank you, Severus. I appreciate it more than I can say."
He held his breath and downed its contents swiftly, unable to keep from screwing up his face in a moue of distaste. It had been years since he'd taken it, but he hadn't forgotten how vile it tasted, and apparently, no advancements had been made to improve it. But really, he didn't care. Being able to retain his mind once more during the transformation was worth enduring the vile taste, and he was grateful for whatever whim had prompted Severus to do this for him.
"Are you unwell?" he asked once his taste buds had recovered, determined to persist in spite of Severus' obvious attempts to avoid the subject.
"No, I made it just to turn around and throw it out again," Severus snapped, then clenched his jaw, biting down on a further outburst. The lack of sleep was doing nothing for his temper, but it wouldn't do to challenge Lupin again, appealing look of gratitude or not. As much as part of him wanted to goad the wolf into responding, now that he knew that he could, he mustn't give in to the impulse.
"Of course I made it for you, you dolt," he drawled in a more normal tone, picking up his wand and banishing the dregs of the potion from both cauldron and cup. Then he conjured the cup full of cold water and passed it back to Lupin. "It is imperative that you keep your wits about you - such as they are - at all times. Especially when transformed. It is possible that I might have to contact you during the full moon; I have met up with your bestial side once already, and I have no wish to do it again, especially in an emergency."
Turning, Severus strode toward his normal chair and sank down in it, reaching for the glass of wine he had left there earlier in the day and draining it as he waited for Lupin to join him. He wasn't going to play the part of gracious host; the biscuits on the table were purely there for his own pleasure. The question about his health he ignored completely; the issue was not important.
Remus schooled his features into a neutral expression as he accepted the cup of water. It seemed that whatever softening he'd imagined in Severus was gone now; perhaps Severus had thought about what occurred between them the last time they met and decided to fortify his walls against Remus. Understandable, of course, but Remus felt as if they'd taken several steps backward.
He watched Severus as he sipped the water, looking past Severus' cold demeanor to see if he could spot any clues. Dark circles under Severus' eyes spoke of lack of sleep, which could contribute to Severus' snappishness as well. The lines on Severus' face were deeper than ever, cutting grooves around his mouth and nose, and for one wild moment, Remus had the urge to kneel in front of Severus, open Severus' robes, and offer him a respite from whatever was tormenting him. It had worked the last time, after all.
But he couldn't do it. That he wanted to was bad enough. If the least Severus did was shove him away, he would be lucky; more likely, Severus would ridicule him for even offering. Then there was Tonks to consider. The last time had been an impulse born of a heated moment, but for him to consciously choose to make such an offer, even if it was for altruistic rather than romantic reasons, would be entirely different. He couldn't betray her again; having done so already was enough of a weight on his conscious, and Severus didn't want him anyway.
Instead, he put the goblet aside and took a seat on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath him as he leaned on his hand and gazed steadily at Severus. "I'm not going to stop asking until you give me an answer," he said quietly.
A deep scowl creased Severus' face further, and he glared at Lupin. "None of your business. There is your answer," he said. "Now, would you care to state your business, Lupin? I hardly believe that you wished to show up for tea and a chat about my health." A traitorous part of Severus wished Lupin wanted to do exactly that, and he had to look away, staring moodily into the fireplace to avoid looking at Lupin's face. It was far too easy to try to pretend that there was genuine concern on Lupin's features. The werewolf had never cared about Severus; nobody except Dumbledore ever had, and look where that had gotten them all.
Remus remained silent for a moment longer, watching Severus, and then he gave a little shrug. So be it. He would tell Severus why he'd come - and then he'd take right back up asking what was wrong.
"I came to tell you that the pack are growing restless," he said at last. "They haven't been given anything to do in weeks, and Greyback hasn't come to call either. They're beginning to wonder if Voldemort has dismissed them, and I've been playing on their fears, planting seeds of doubt as to whether Voldemort will fulfill his promises if he wins the war."
"Do not say his name," Severus hissed, glaring at Lupin. His hands clenched on the arms of his chair, knuckles white with tension. "And there is a very good reason he has not contacted them. He put too much of his hopes in the attack on the wedding, which turned into such a fiasco. He lost some key people in that failure, and he is trying to put things back together. He is reeling, but unfortunately Potter is in no position to take him on, not yet. The Dark Lord will regroup, but right now the lycanthropes are not as high on his priority list as they once were."
Severus took several slow, deep breaths. "I believe he is waiting for the school year to start, to see what Potter will do. Hogwarts is more vulnerable without Dumbledore; we both know that. If Potter returns, he will try to catch Potter out there. If he does not... I am not certain. I do not believe even the Dark Lord himself knows what he is doing at this point, but I have my suspicions." He paused, mouth turning down in a frown of distaste. "Bellatrix is pushing for Lucius to be freed from Azkaban. If she gets her way, I have no doubt precisely whom that pleasant task will fall to; and believe me when I say that Lucius being out again makes my position far more precarious than you would believe."
"That could work to our advantage, if enough werewolves grow disgruntled over how they're being treated," Remus mused. "I'll have to work on Ethan more. Where he goes, most of them will follow, and pushing them into neutrality is better than having them actively against us since I doubt they'll ever fight on our side." He frowned at the mention of Lucius, his brow furrowed with concern. "How can Lucius harm you? I should think your position is almost unshakeable at this point."
"The Dark Lord will not allow the lycanthropes to slip through his grasp," Severus said, shaking his head. "And if they did, I would be in a great deal of trouble, seeing as the werewolves are my responsibility. It is almost a no-win situation, from my perspective. The best option at the moment is probably to keep suspicion up, but not to foster too much outright discontent."
Lifting a hand, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, his head beginning to pain him. "As far as Lucius is concerned... at the moment, you are currently occupying his sofa, Lupin. In his Wizard Hole in one of his family houses. Narcissa offered it to me, in payment" - Severus' voice was vicious on the word - "for me having 'fulfilled Draco's duty' and saved her precious boy's life by sacrificing Albus. She promised me that Bellatrix knows nothing of this place, and I have no reason to doubt her on that. I suspect, however, that she would not be so reticent in telling her husband about it. And between Lucius and Bellatrix... they have every reason to wish to see me displaced. While I am in favor, they are not. Ambition is an ugly thing; ambition in the service of evil is an abomination."
Remus' eyebrows climbed at that revelation, and he resisted the urge to stand up and cast a Scourgify spell on the sofa; he didn't sit quite as comfortably knowing whose furniture it was, but he should have known Severus couldn't afford a place like this. He felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for Severus as well; no wonder he didn't look well, considering he had to worry about finding himself betrayed or killed or both by people on both sides of the war.
At least Remus had allies he could trust in the Order; Severus didn't even have that anymore. He had no one to trust, no one he could turn to for help or support. He was entirely on his own. Except for me, Remus thought, knowing full well how much it must grate on Severus that the only person who was anything close to being an ally was also someone he'd hated for decades.
Seeing the pain in Severus' face spurred Remus into action; Severus might not want to talk about his health, but the way he was rubbing his nose spoke of a headache, and Remus thought Severus would be lucky if he didn't have a full-blown migraine considering the pressure he was under. Rising, he moved to stand in front of Severus and pressed his fingers to Severus' temples, massaging firmly.
He was mad to do so, and he knew it, but the wolf seemed to have taken responsibility for Severus, and his own conscience urged him to do something to help, even if he told himself and Severus that it was in repayment for the potion. He knew how it felt to be utterly alone with no one to turn to, and while he doubted Severus would ever turn to him willingly, he could still be there as much as Severus would allow.
Severus looked up when Lupin rose to his feet, but he went rigid with shock when Lupin's fingers sank into the skin at the sides of his head, his hands clenching at the arms of his chair as he fought the dangerously conflicting urges he felt from that simple, almost impersonal touch.
Part of Severus wanted to knock Lupin away, to snarl and fight, to disdain this charity, this act of pity. Another part wanted to melt beneath the caress, to let it sooth away the hurt, to let someone, to let Lupin take away part of his pain for once. It was a war within Severus, one that was years in the making, one that had nothing and yet everything to do with Lupin. No one ever touched Severus gently. Never. He could handle physical violence, hexing, cursing, clawing... but a caress left him too vulnerable, made him hurt and ache and yearn for things that he could never have. Things that attracted and yet repelled him because they had more power to hurt him than anything else in the world.
Jerking his head back, he stared up at Lupin, expression closed, although there was a flash of fear and agony in his dark eyes that in his pain and exhaustion he couldn't quite cover. "No," he said, voice tight. "I will be fine, Lupin. I do not need you fussing over me."
Remus lowered his hands when Severus jerked away, but he was too close to miss the tell-tale glimmer in Severus' eyes that told him the truth, teaching him to ignore Severus' words. "Yes, you do," he said quietly. "You may not want it, but you need it, and if you don't let yourself have it, you'll suffer. You already are."
Severus was a stubborn bastard, and Remus didn't expect him to accept gracefully; he expected Severus to fight him tooth and nail, if their past encounters were anything to judge by. The only way he'd managed to get through to Severus at all was when he'd forced it, subduing Severus through the influence of the wolf, and if that was what it took, that was what he would use.
His own stubborn streak asserted itself, and he draped himself across Severus' lap, capturing Severus' face between his hands as he began massaging Severus' temples again, determined to help Severus or die trying. The flash of fear he'd seen in Severus' eyes had struck a chord that resonated within him, and he suspected the sense of responsibility he felt was changing into something else, something he didn't want to think about, and he pushed it to the back of his mind to ponder later. Right now, Severus needed him, and that was all that mattered.
Most intelligent people, when faced with a hissing snake, would immediately back down in justifiable fear of their lives. It was just Severus' luck that Lupin apparently was the great dunderhead which Severus had accused him of being, for instead of moving away, Severus suddenly found himself in possession of a lap full of determined werewolf.