Hogwarts

4: Hogwarts

The cold woke Snape up, and he was nothing less than dumbstruck at the fact that the light was already fading. It was late afternoon – he obviously had been gone for the better part of the day.

Confused and light-headed, he tried to move and found that even lifting as much as his fingers was not a good idea. Pain shot from his toes up to the base of his neck, and he couldn't suppress a moan. He felt like a big haunch of raw meat, slashed here and there and still bleeding out of various wounds. At least the ground around him seemed dry, and the place where he was lying was sheltered from the wind. Small comfort, but definitely better than nothing.

Wincing, Snape managed to roll to his side only to see the world shift around him. His head pounded, breathing was terribly uncomfortable, and only after a few minutes did he manage to open his eyes again – he had squeezed them shut in order to keep the heaving ground at bay.

He got up on staggering feet. With one arm pressed against a tree, he supported his swaying body, worked his way up nearly as slow as a caterpillar, and had a wave of nausea wash over him the second he stood more or less upright. Unceremoniously, he threw up the sparse dinner from the previous night. Unfortunately, this unpleasant action forced him down to his knees again. Before his eyes, tiny, colourful stars exploded.

I'll kill him. The thought echoed through Snape's mind a few minutes later when he tried to get up once more. I'll kill him and skin him and hang his bloody fur on my wall. Well, he would have to find Lupin first, though. Again. Find him and check if the potion had worked, after all. Pity he had to move for that task. If he found him, though, he would certainly... well. Not kill him. Beat him maybe, for his idiocy. Or at least scold him.

Snape's right leg nearly gave way when he tried to take a step on the frozen ground. The sun was down now, and the moon would be up soon. If the potion had worked, Lupin would be – and stay – in his human form even under the light of the Cold Moon, the first full moon in winter. The potion was supposed to be powerful enough to reverse the transformation and to suppress it for a full twenty-four hours after it had been injected.

Therefore, Lupin should be here, somewhere, anywhere. Snape shivered. If he only could keep his eyes focussed on the ground, and if only he didn't feel so awful. The Potions master didn't even know if Lupin had bitten him during the fight or after he had passed out. Maybe he would turn into a werewolf! I'm certain that would stretch Albus's willingness to employ me, Snape thought dryly, right before he tripped over a log that brought him to his knees once more.

Cursing, Snape just managed not to land face first on the ground by reaching out, protecting his aching chest from slamming into the fallen tree. It was not only the fading light that prevented him from seeing to clearly where he was going, but his dizzy head as well and the pounding pain in his leg, his back, and his chest. Poppy won't like the sight of me, Snape thought and then, belatedly, realised that it hadn't been a log he had stumbled on but a body. Not a furry body with snout, tail, and claws, but a human body. A pale, slightly blue, naked, male body. Face down to the ground. Breathing?

"Great," Snape mumbled and searched with cold fingers for the pulse in Lupin's throat, leaving bloody tracks on the werewolf's limp body. "If you dare to be dead, wolf, you can count on me coming after you, simply to shout at you for your stupidity of falling unconscious whilst being nude."

But there it was, the pulse. Lupin was barely, but definitely, alive. He was equally definitely not a wolf anymore.

Above the trees, the moon came up, huge and silver, casting its light on the clearing and the two men on the ground. Snape's head snapped up, and for a moment he stared at the night sky, half blinded by the bright light of the moon. Watching his friend again, he expected fur to grow and claws to show, feared the man would turn into a beast for good.

Hastily, Snape's hands came down to Lupin's shoulders, turned him round, and stared at the worn, haggard face which was sad even with closed eyes and slack mouth.

The cold moon poured its light onto the werewolf. Shadows danced across the frostbitten skin. Melted by his breath, a former ice-drop trickled down Lupin's cheek.

Nothing happened. The Moonflower potion had worked all the way through and had successfully stopped Lupin to make the biggest mistake in his life. Unfortunately, if Snape didn't get the man into the warmth and himself into the caring hands of a mediwitch or wizard, they would both die out here in the woods. It was too cold to be outside even with clothes on. Naked, Lupin wouldn't survive another hour.

Unsteadily, Snape waggled his fingers and wasn't surprised that nothing happened. He was too weak to conjure wandless magic; he could barely concentrate on breathing. Therefore, he looked around for his wand only to find that the moonlight had changed the world into a place where he wasn't able to see more than ghosts and shadows. Finding something as small and thin as a wand amongst all the leaves and twigs would be nearly impossible.

Moments passed before that realisation reached his brain, moments in which Snape on all fours patted with his bare hands on the ground, hoping to find his blasted wand. Remus must have knocked it away from him during the attack, and why the hell was he so damn cold? Where was he?

Snape was getting more dizzy by the minute when he, by accident, bumped against a tree stump with his injured shoulder. Cursing, he clutched it, lost balance, and reached out only to find his wand right next to the stump. That he had found it at all was close to a miracle; that his fingers remembered how to use it stunned him, as he couldn't even feel his fingers anymore.

A quick flick and he had light, at least.

Bad idea. In the light he saw not only Lupin's unconscious body a few feet away, but also the long, deep slashes in his own thigh and his chest as well. From collarbone across his ribcage down to the hipbone the claws had ripped open his pale flesh. A bit deeper and he would have disembowelled me, Snape mused dreamily, his head sinking back to rest against the stump.

Someone moaned with pain – himself, apparently. Hmmm, guess I'm not well. The thought was not a pleasant one. "If I die, Lupin dies," he croaked. Even a less pleasant fact, and such a useless thing to happen after all his effort. "Get up," Snape told himself with a voice dangerously small. He wouldn't allow the circumstances and his own weakness to finish them off. He had his wand, he was more or less conscious, he only needed to get Lupin to St. Mungo's...

Another bad idea. It was full moon, and Lupin was a known werewolf. Anyone, even the Healers, would cast a Stunning Spell first just in case he wasn't that unconscious and ask questions later. And Stunning might kill the werewolf, especially with the potion running through his veins, working its own magic.

Now that didn't really leave many options. None, in fact. Snape couldn't take Lupin anywhere – and on top came the problem that he didn't know if Dumbledore had meanwhile told the Ministry about the situation. If they were out there, searching for the werewolf...

"Damn," Snape muttered, trying to find his feet so he could get up. They seemed to be miles away, and when he finally had fought himself into a more or less standing position once more, he swayed like a branch in the wind. With one hand pressed to his ribcage, Snape managed to keep himself upright and finally realised that there was no way out of here for both of them. Leaving Lupin behind was the only solution for this stalemate.

He needed to get help. At least it was easy to decide whom to seek out – there was only one man Snape trusted enough and who might be able to handle the situation with success. "Hope you kept your promise, Albus," the Potions master breathed. "Hope you are where you are supposed to be." Then he gathered the rest of his dwindling strength and Disapparated.

*******************

Hogwarts looked most beautiful under the full moon, but Snape, having managed to Apparate right outside the wards of the school, wasn't in the condition to see anything else but his feet and the ground he needed to cover in order to get closer to the big gates. He suffered from the strange sensation of being an unwanted guest in his own body, as his body clearly refused to obey his orders. Straight walking was impossible, keeping his eyes open was a challenge, ignoring that his legs felt like jelly a most unpleasant necessity. His body demanded to lie down, to rest. His consciousness was stubborn and pushed the body onwards, step by staggering step.

There were the doors, and they opened under his touch, recognising a teacher. Snape would have landed flat on the face when the gates swung open; only the stonewalls inside caught his fall.

He had lost his sense for time and was only dimly aware that it was dark. After curfew? After midnight? Would there be students around or his colleagues? Was anyone awake at all or would he have to find his way to the Headmaster's office on his own?

Now that was highly unlikely, as Snape didn't even know in which corridor he was located at the moment. The walls looked all the same, the torches only cast shadows, and what the hell he was doing here, anyway?

Ah, yes. Albus. Headmaster's office. Lupin.

Taking a deep breath, Snape turned left and was extremely relieved to see the statue that guarded Dumbledore's rooms staring down at him unwillingly. He murmured the password, had to repeat it twice before the lousy thing finally allowed him to enter, and nearly had to creep upstairs on all fours. Damn stairs, he thought, then finally reached the door and banged against it, barely making more noise than a fly battering against a windowpane.

Ages later, so it seemed, through the still closed door came the Headmaster's tired voice. "Didn't I make it clear that I do not want to be disturbed?"

Now that made Snape massively angry, and he got his wand out with shaking hands, more than willing to blast the damn door open. He had chased a werewolf, he had survived a werewolf's attack, he had found his way to Hogwarts and up here, and then Dumbledore refused to open the sodding door? Unacceptable. "Albus!" he gasped and slammed his fist to the solid wood. "If I die out here because of you... I will... haunt you every single minute... for the rest of your... damn, worthless life!"

Suddenly, the door opened. Snape felt strong arms round his chest, a massively painful embrace that threatened to send him screaming up the walls. He heard his own name, called in disbelief; then he was led to a chair and could finally sit down.

"Albus," he croaked, "I need your help."

"That is very obvious, my dear boy!" Dumbledore said, staring down at the man slumped in his armchair, in his office, a man he hadn't expected to see again and who was clearly more dead than alive. "You are... that is... what I mean..."

"Stop babbling, old man," Snape hissed, not because he was angry, but because he didn't have enough air left to shout. "Go get Lupin."

Dumbledore placed his hands on the shoulders of his friend, which made Snape wince with pain. "He's alive?" the Headmaster asked and took a closer look at the wounds at Snape's chest. They were very clearly caused by claws.

Snape's eyelids were getting far too heavy to be kept open. The room became too warm within the blink of an eye, the lights flared too bright, and his head was far too heavy for his aching shoulders. "Freezing," he murmured. "Attacked me; I gave him the potion. He's not dangerous anymore. Get him. Find him. Take him... somewhere safe." His head dropped to his chest, and if Dumbledore hadn't caught him, he would have slipped off the chair.

"Where is he, Severus?" Dumbledore urged. "Tell me where he is!"

But Snape wouldn't tell anything anymore – he finally had lost consciousness.

"You never fail to surprise me, my boy," the Headmaster murmured. "I wouldn't have believed to see you alive again after you have left Harry's house last night, but here you are, and on top of that you claim of having saved Remus as well. Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary."

There was danger lurking in the darkness somewhere behind him, danger and terror and the promise of pain. The wind was blowing his hair into his eyes, he couldn't see properly, but he was certain that he was not alone in the woods. Something was there, or maybe someone, but when he tried to run he found his feet rooted to the spot. Already he could smell blood and that specific fragrance of fear – it seemed he was frightened of whatever was hiding behind the bushes, and he doubled his efforts to get away, but couldn't.

Useless. Moving was impossible, as there was a weight on his shoulders holding him down to the soft ground. Hadn't he been standing a moment ago? Why he was now lying in the grass? Struggling, he tired to get away from the weight only to hear a voice through the mists, calling his name.

Now that wasn't good: someone knowing his name and calling it out in a dark, foggy wood. Maybe, if he fought some more, if he put all his strength into the attempt to get free...

With a hoarse scream, Snape awoke, fighting against his attacker only to find himself being held closely by strong arms who made sure he wouldn't hurt himself any further. Those arms wouldn't let go of him even when Snape realised that he wasn't in a wood, that it wasn't dark, that there was no fog and no enemy he needed to flee.

There was only a soft bed, white sheets, sunbeams through the windows and Albus Dumbledore, now lowering him back down onto the pillow but keeping his hands on both his Potions master's trembling shoulders.

"Easy, my dear boy," Dumbledore soothed. "Everything is fine. You are fine. Will you stop fighting, please, Severus?"

"Ouch!" winced Snape. Where did the pain come from?

Dumbledore sat back into the chair that stood next to the bedside. Slowly, he released his grip and looked more than happy that Severus didn't try to jump out of bed immediately. "Do you know where you are... and what happened?" he asked gently and caught the Potions master's hand in his just when Snape wanted to examine the bandages around his chest. "I wouldn't do that, Severus. The wounds are still quite fresh; you could tear them open. Just lay still for a moment, will you?"

"What... how... when...?" Snape managed, tremendously relieved all of a sudden at the fact that not only he wasn't back in the woods, but that Albus was holding his wrist down to the mattress as well. Only moments ago, back in his nightmare, he had felt so very lost and lonely on top of his fear. The simple human contact, the ridiculous fact that Albus considered it necessary to soothe him, did exactly as intended: it calmed him and allowed him to gather his thoughts.

Dumbledore looked into the snow-white face of his friend. "You are in the infirmary. I took you here three days ago, after you came staggering into my office and eventually choose my floor to have a rest. Poppy has taken care of the wounds on your chest, your back, and your leg. You've been in a remarkably bad condition, but I think it could have been worse after having been attacked by a wild werewolf."

"Half wild," Snape breathed. "He did it deliberately, changing a day too early... He wanted to give us time to kill him safely."

"How very sensible of him," Dumbledore said mildly.

Snape's eyes snapped open. Dumbledore, sitting quite close, looked down at him. "You look awful, old man," Snape croaked, and Dumbledore gave a delighted smile.

"So do you, my dear boy, so do you. But you are alive, which is a lot more than I would have expected."

"Lupin?"

Dumbledore sighed, and Snape felt cold fear creep down his spine. A quick look round confirmed his guess – he was the only patient in the infirmary.

Dumbledore, having seen Snape's reaction, just tightened his grip. "Remus is fine," he said quickly. "I found him – I had to take the location out of your mind – and he is as good as new. Don't you worry about him."

Good news for a change, Snape wondered and tried to push himself up a bit. Unexpectedly, Albus helped him until he sat propped up against the pillows. "Where is he?" he then asked, and Albus sighed again.

"You know, you put me into a quite impossible situation, Severus," he began. "First, you force me to withhold information from the Ministry; secondly, you insist in getting yourself killed; thirdly, you survived. On top of that, I now have a werewolf down in the dungeons, holding hands with his dear wife, rocking his son on his knees, and I don't have a clue on how to break the news to you that you won't teach Defence Against the Dark Arts anymore. Truly, Severus, how very impolite of you!" Twinkling, Hogwarts Headmaster took his glasses off and began polishing them so he could pretend not to see his Potions master's thunderstruck face and his effort to get his mouth closed.

"Won't I?" Snape finally got out, and wrapped his arms round his waist to stop his hands from shaking. Suddenly, he didn't feel tired anymore, but remarkably well.

"Won't you what?" Dumbledore asked innocently.

"Teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Stop playing with me, old man!" Snape snapped.

Dumbledore got up and turned round. "Hello, Poppy," he greeted the matron who was carrying a tray with salves and bandages. "I'm afraid he woke up – looking after him won't be that easy from now on, I'm sorry to say."

"Ah, well, I will chuck him out anyway in a day or two," the matron answered merrily. "And until then I can always Stupefy him if he doesn't behave himself." She sat on the now vacant chair and began to loosen the bandages on Snape's chest.

Irritated, he wiped her hands away. "Won't I?" he called after Dumbledore, who was already halfway out through the door.

"But of course not, Severus," Dumbledore called back. "I had a long talk with Remus – he told me everything, including his reasoning and why you are still alive – remarkable, his self-control. Lupin is now the only living werewolf who is not depending on Wolfsbane to remain human under his fur at the full moon. Therefore, I had no reason not to employ him again. Unfortunately, he only teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts. Sorry, dear boy, that means you are solely stuck with your cauldrons once more."

"Stupefy," Poppy sternly threatened at this precise moment, and Snape, being unexpectedly overwhelmed with a wave of emotions, relented to her caring hands.

******************

Equally unexpected, Poppy held her word and released Snape from the infirmary the following evening after having some severe words with him. "You will rest until the weekend, Severus, is that clear? You will come by tomorrow morning so I can check on you, and if I see you anywhere near a classroom or your lab, I will personally take you by the ear and drag you back into one of my infirmary beds. Do we understand each other?"

"Quite," Snape grumbled, then walked slowly and carefully down to his chambers. He had been scrubbed clean, he had been treated with an impossible amount of potions, pills, and salves, and he was more or less whole again. No more pain, just a few more scars; it could have been worse. Nevertheless, quick movements were out of the question at the moment.

A few students stared at him wide-eyed whilst he went by, but no one dared to get into his way despite the fact that the Potions master seemed slightly distracted. He didn't even see the snogging couple, and if he had, he doubted he could have been bothered to give them detention.

The dungeons seemed farther away than usual, but finally, after about half a million years and miles, he reached his doors. As always it was blissfully quiet and dark down here, and all Snape longed for was a nice, warm fire, the biggest mug of hot chocolate possible, and a book. A harmless, eventless evening in his armchair after nearly a week at the infirmary and two days in the woods and... how long had he been out spying before that? Anyway, he doubted he could get closer to paradise than by continuing precisely as planned.

But then he opened his door and found himself attacked by an orange-haired witch who, surprisingly enough, managed to wrap her arms round his waist and hug him tightly before he could get his wand out to hex her. Luckily, she was small and light; otherwise she might have knocked him over.

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw a smiling werewolf sitting in his armchair. Well, lying on his own living room floor with Nymphadora Tonks on top of him whilst her husband was watching – good Merlin, what a dreadful thought! "Tonks," Snape weakly objected to the hug, looking down at the impossible orange glow propped against his chest. "Tonks, would you..."

"Thank you, Severus," she just said and hugged him once more. "Thank you so very much for... everything."

Awkwardly, Snape patted the woman's back, feeling extremely relieved when she finally let go of him. He saw her wiping her nose with her sleeve, and for a moment she looked like a schoolgirl, ridiculously young and vulnerable. Clearing his throat, Snape asked, "What on earth are you doing in my rooms?"

She laughed a bit shakily and stepped away from him right next to Remus. "I'm thanking you for saving my husband's life," she answered with a smile. "I hope... I didn't hurt you, did I, Severus?"

Very nearly, Snape would have blushed. Usually, people were only too eager to get away from him, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the people who truly cared for his well-being. That Tonks was concerned about him not only showed how grateful she was, but also that she knew how badly Remus had injured him. An embarrassing idea, Snape found, and coughed to conceal it. Too much friendliness, lately, he thought. It's more than time that I go back teaching so I can torment as many students as possible.

He just snapped out of his thoughts in time to see Tonks waving good bye, pushing the door open, and calling "See you tomorrow, love," before she vanished in the dark corridor.

Snape, slightly at loss of what was going on, raised a questioning eyebrow towards Lupin. "Aren't you going with her?" he asked in confusion.

"Does it look like it?" Remus replied curtly and didn't move a limb.

"Apparently not," Snape growled. "So tell me what you want that can't wait until another time. I was looking forward to a quiet evening in. Without company." Irritated, he slumped into the second chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at Lupin.

The werewolf just lowered his head and avoided Snape's eyes. Silence filled the Potions master's quarters, silence that felt odd and wrong and demanding at the same time. Silence that cried for words to be spoken, but Snape, having been always lousy to find the right words at the right time, just clenched his jaws and waited for Lupin to spit out what was bothering him.

Only he didn't. The werewolf, looking positively at a loss for words himself, just sat in his chair and seemed to wonder about his footwear.

"Lupin!" Snape growled after a considerable length of time. "What are you still doing here?" It was unnerving him, this silence.

Finally, Lupin seemed to have found his tongue again. "Why did you do it?" he asked. "Why did you come after me? I mean, you are usually not that daft, and then you don't have anything better to do than chasing a wild werewolf?"

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. His quiet evening tiptoed away. "Not entirely wild," he corrected his friend. "And talking about stupidity – you shouldn't have changed a day too early if you didn't want me to save you. You have told me too much about the ways of werewolves, Remus. You knew that I knew you weren't fully transformed. If you didn't want me to come after you, you should have done it under the full moon like every sensible werewolf who truly wants to go wild. But no, all you wanted was to commit suicide. Pity, really, that you didn't even manage to do that properly!"

Now, that had come out a bit differently from his original intention, Snape realised. He had shouted at the man opposite of him, something he hadn't planned to do. Where did that anger come from? Snape wondered, but remained seated although he wanted to jump up and shake some sense in Lupin's haggard body.

"I didn't manage it because you got in the way!" Lupin growled. "I changed a day earlier so I wouldn't kill anyone attempting to kill me. I certainly didn't expect you to come after me, or I would have taken precautions. Like not telling my wife where I'd be." Staring at Snape, he continued, quieter, "This life – my life – had become unbearable. I would have thought you of all people would have known what it means, having to live a life one can't stand anymore!"

"I never tried to kill myself," Snape pointed out coldly.

"You aren't alive, either," Lupin exclaimed. "Apart from me, you don't talk to anyone, not even to Albus. You don't have any friends, you don't have a family; there is no one you love, and no one who loves you. You might move and talk and teach, but you are not part of this world. You could just as well be dead!"

"Then don't blame me for not allowing the only friend I do have to kill himself," Snape snapped. "Consider me foolish and soft-hearted, but I couldn't stand the thought of you being slaughtered like an animal; I couldn't stand the thought of visiting your grave!"

Remus dug his nails into the wood of his armchair. "It was what I wanted, for me and my family, and you deprived me of it!" The words hung in the air for a moment; only silence followed them. The Remus added, more calmly and with a sub note of disbelief, "Albus hired me to teach here again, without even asking me first."

Snape cringed; he felt exhausted by this battle of words and even more by the fact that he had opened up to the werewolf, had told him the truth, had revealed his feelings. That was quite unlike him, and it felt odd. He felt odd, and strangely vulnerable on top of it. "He didn't ask me either – if I would be willing to step back from my post, that is," he said. "But then, I wasn't really in the condition to answer questions."

Instantly, the mood changed once more. Had it been angry and heated at first and sarcastic only a moment ago, it was now dark and bitter.

"You know why I had to try it. Release for me; a future for my wife and son," Remus said. He had been pacing the room the past minutes, but now stopped and stood directly in front of Snape's chair. The fire was behind him, and Snape couldn't see his friend's expression. However, he heard how much it cost him to get the words out.

Sighing, Snape nodded once, and then summoned a decanter and two glasses to the little table next to his chair. He poured the dark wine and handed one glass to Remus, taking the other one between his long, cold fingers. Although it was warm in his rooms, he felt a chill nagging on his bones – the words Remus had spat out earlier on were still ringing in his ears. Few friends; no love; no life.

They were true, of course. "I couldn't let you die, Remus," Snape confessed and took a generous swig from the glass. "I know why you did it, but I didn't find it in me to let you continue with it. And I hope... that things will work out for you now."

Lupin drained his glass in one go. "Getting away from Andromeda, taking Teddy out of her grip, having a job... there is not much more I can wish for," Remus answered. "And I am not depending on Wolfsbane any longer – you have no idea what a relief that is. I had nightmares of forgetting to take the potion in time, of ripping Teddy to pieces, of killing Tonks..."

"Enough," Snape interrupted him gently, putting the glass aside. He hadn't eaten yet; if he weren't careful, the wine would go straight to his head. "It is over. You can get on with your life, and I assume suicide is not as appealing as it was a week ago with those new options at hand. You will find a house for your family very quickly. You can move as far away from this hag who calls herself Tonks's mother as possible. Just don't ask me to baby-sit."

Suddenly, Remus came closer to Snape's chair and looked down at the lean figure of the Potions master. For a moment, he seemed lost for words and apparently hadn't heard a word of what Snape just had said. The werewolf opened his mouth only to close it again until, after several attempts, he said, "Take your shirt off, Severus. Please."

It didn't happen often that Severus Snape felt like punched in the stomach by mere words. Remus's question, though, not only seemed to knock the wind out of his lungs, it caused his mouth to gape as well. "What?" he managed after a heartbeat, very certain that he had misheard. Somehow.

But Remus was serious, and he had a reason for his plea. "Take your shirt off. I... I need to see what I have done to you. This is the main reason why I stayed. To talk to you and to see the damage I have caused. Maybe it will hold my nightmares at bay if I see proof that I haven't managed to kill you even whilst being worse than a monster. Please, Severus. I beg you."

Snape couldn't even remember the last time someone had pleaded him to do anything. He had been ordered, he had been told, he had followed demands. No one had ever just begged him for a favour. Therefore, he just undid the buttons of his shirt, showing his friend the scars he had caused and sincerely hoping that one brief look would be enough for Remus.