Chapter Fourteen

It was a picture of domestic bliss, not that I had any experience of such, but it was what I would have imagined that to be, had I cared. Dumbledore sat at the fire, chatting to Ethel, who once again sat leaning out of her picture in her "nosey neighbour" way, and Tonks had sat himself down on the settee, my favourite one, of course, and I doubted that he could have sat much closer to Andromeda had he landed on her lap.

To say they were pleased to see me, with the exception of Tonks, who probably wished I had died on the way home, was perhaps an overstatement, but they did seem relieved that I had come back unscathed, on the surface at least. It was only when Lucius followed me into the room that any of them showed a real reaction and, if for that alone, I was pleased with my decision to have taken him.

"Is this wise?" Dumbledore's thought reached me before anyone spoke.

"I had no choice in the matter," I responded in kind. "But, for all that, the choice was mine. I have to speak with you alone."

"Can we trust Lucius?" he asked.

"Only insofar as he is not, at this time, on Riddle's side," I replied. "However, Lucius will pick the side that is winning, and it is my duty to make sure that we win whatever fight we are fighting, or at least keep him safe until he decides otherwise."

"It was ever thus with Lucius, I suspect," he replied, and even in his thought I recognised the reproach for my making the decision on any merits Malfoy might have had, without consulting him.

"I had no choice," I repeated, in the defence he had not asked for. "Black and Lupin ... do I take it they are safe?"

He nodded to me, and I left it at that, and once again it was as though time had almost frozen to allow us our few remarks to one another. It was going to be difficult to talk to Ethel and Dumbledore with Lucius present though, and it was just as well I didn't need to talk to Andromeda too, I thought sourly, as I watched her give me a questioning look that I chose to ignore.

'What's going on, Severus?' both Andromeda and Lucius asked at the same time.

I had nothing to say in front of the others to either of them, and took the coward's option of leaving them all to make whatever job they wanted to of re-acquainting themselves, and went into the kitchen, feeling as displaced as Riddle had made Lucius, although not as gladly. I only just managed not to slam the door behind me in some kind of vent for the not unreasonable fit of pique I felt building up inside me, and slumped down at the table. It was only when I dropped my head to my hands in exhaustion-tinged self-piteous resentment that I realised I was being watched. I lifted my head again just as Sirius Black came in from Ethel's little terrace, flicking a cigarette back over his shoulder to hiss and die on the damp grass.

'This was never going to be easy, Severus,' he said, sitting down opposite me, and I took the time to notice he looked about as good as I felt, even as I stifled the urge to tell him not to smoke in my home ... unless he was going to pass them around.

'Did you bring him here?' I accused, looking to the closed living room door, behind which I had left such an odd medley of people that only Tom Riddle could have further complicated it.

Black frowned the frown that always seemed to lurk just below the surface, and I saw the effort it took him not to wince in pain, and felt childish and selfish at not having even asked him how he was; after all, the last time I had seen him, only a day before, he had been barely alive. Someone had done a good repair job on him though; his eye, whilst still bloodshot and bruised, was open, and there was hardly any swelling at all. I knew how painful that particular transfer of bruised blood would have been, how the Blood-Replenishing Potion would have had to stretch the veins to disperse the swelling and leave the new blood to do its job. Of course, I knew his facial injuries had only been what I had seen in the few minutes I had had with him in the cellar, and I had no idea what internal injuries had laid him so low, or what toll on him they had taken. Why was it, I wondered, that I found it so difficult to enquire about the plight of some, and yet so easy to ask about others? I had had no difficulty in telling Dumbledore about the time at school with Lucius, and yet found I couldn't ask the man opposite me about himself and the man he cared for. I wondered what I feared, wondered if it had anything to do with my finding someone in a worse plight than I was, and then having to examine myself a bit more closely.

'No,' he said tiredly. 'I think he got in touch with Albus, and he brought him here ... That wasn't what I meant though,' he said. 'I meant Lucius being here was going to be difficult.'

It was my turn to frown that he even knew Malfoy was there, but of course Ethel would have sensed his presence, and Dumbledore would have guessed that I would take him there if I thought he was in any danger. Black was obviously deeply in the old man's confidence, and I just managed to push back my resentment at that too. I reminded myself that I was to all intents and purposes the new boy ... and a Death Eater to boot. But it was my turn then, and difficult though it was for me to let the words claw themselves up my throat, I did it.

'Is Lupin safe?'

Black nodded. 'He's at the Shack,' he said, and I could see it pained him that the werewolf was alone.

'And you?' I ventured.

'I am what you see, Severus,' he said, and something flat and not quite defeated had crept into his voice that I found hard to associate with him. It took me a moment to understand that everyone was damaged in some way, not just me, and that left me feeling small and about as self-interested as I ever wanted to feel again. He had glanced towards the back door to the terrace, the one I had stood upon on the night he had left to give me the chance I needed with Andromeda; it was just the same, and yet bathed in a different moonlight. This time the full moon did indeed sit low in the sky on her final ascent towards her master, before she turned her face away from him to begin her eternal journey for his favour once more, dragging Lupin and his kind in her uncaring wake.

'Are you fit to Apparate?' I asked, and wondered why I was asking that instead of interrogating him about what had happened at Malfoy Manor, as I probably would have done just two days before. But this was more important, at least it was to me right then. He had given me a chance, and it was my turn to do the same for him, and however foolish the decision was, and whatever came of it, I knew it was right.

He nodded doubtfully, and I saw the pain and exhaustion again, and tried to imagine just what effort it had taken him to free himself and the werewolf; but I didn't ask, that could keep.

I had stood up, and he stood slowly too. 'Albus will go mental,' he said, favouring me with a half dose of the Gryffindor grin.

'Don't worry, Black, I shall blame you,' I replied, feeling much better now that I had found some way to repay him a quid for his pro quo.

'And what about that lot?' he asked, cocking his head to where the living room door was still closed, and I found myself wondering why I wasn't wondering about just what was going on, and how they would manage their small talk, and just where everyone was going to sleep, and then I found I didn't really care. I wouldn't be sleeping with Andromeda, so I might as well sleep beside the Shrieking Shack; I wouldn't be any colder.

'What about them?' I replied. 'I'm sure between Albus and Ethel they can keep tabs on Lucius ... and Andromeda and ...' I added, hating myself for showing weakness by hesitating, but the damn man's stupid name caught in my throat, '... Ted ... aren't going to cause him any problems.'

He gave me a cautious look that I ignored, and I had just stepped onto the terrace when I heard them both converging on my mind.

"Be careful, dear," Ethel said, and I felt a little surge of guilt at not even having acknowledged her when I had come in.

"Make sure you stay with him, Severus," Dumbledore said more sternly. "I should not like a repeat of what has already happened this week."

I closed my mind down completely and wondered if I had really shut them out, or indeed if I would ever have any sort of privacy from them again.

*****

We went out the back way, the way I had brought Lucius, and by the time we had negotiated the railway embankment Black was so exhausted that we had to stop for a few minutes. That didn't matter, not to me anyway; I wasn't in any hurry, and I didn't think a few minutes mattered much to him either. I had him Side-Along with me from the warehouse to the Shack; he wasn't really fit to Apparate on his own. When we Disapparated just outside Hogsmeade I had the feeling I had overestimated whatever strength he had, and rebuked myself again for not having taken the time to find out just what he had endured at Riddle's hands.

'Come on, Snape,' he said, straightening up and setting his shoulders in a way that didn't even fool himself, never mind me. 'It'll be fucking morning before I get there, if we don't move.'

'How far do you want me to go?' I asked, nodding to where the Shack was silhouetted in the moonlight, trying to pretend the low mournful howl I heard was the wind.

He gave me a long look before he replied. 'I swear he won't harm you,' he said in barely a whisper. He'd reached out his hand to clutch my wrist in a gesture of desperation I didn't understand. 'This time is different, Severus, I swear it ... you're different ... we all are.'

'I ... I don't know what you mean,' I said, not at all sure I wanted to meet Lupin's alter ego a second time. 'He's a werewolf...'

'Please,' he said. 'I'm not sure how much strength I have ... how his injuries have affected him.' He looked towards the Shack again, and I thought it looked like the loneliest place on earth. 'There wasn't time for Poppy to check him out properly ... it was too late when I managed to get back. I'm just not sure...' He trailed off, and gave me one of his long looks which, for all of its pleading, was as challenging to me as any I had ever read.

I wasn't sure either, but for purely selfish, albeit not irrational, reasons. 'He's a werewolf, Black,' I repeated. 'He is unlikely to welcome an ordinary man, however injured he is,' I said, cursing fact that I didn't even know what his injuries were, and wondering just why I had come if I had not expected this. 'I do not have an Animagus form to escape to.'

'I know,' he said, his grip tightening on my wrist. 'But you have the white stone ... you have brought it with you, Severus, haven't you?'

'Yes,' I admitted doubtfully. 'Although I'm not entirely sure that this is one of the uses Albus had in mind when he lent it to me,' I said, taking the time to admit to myself that Dumbledore had told me to stay with Black, and extending that thought to my using the stone if I needed to, satisfying myself at least that such use would be merited if the occasion arose ... I just hoped the stone would agree.

'Fuck Albus,' he hissed, and I understood how it was that he always seemed to be in some kind of trouble or other. 'Does it matter if Riddle kills you, or if Lupin eats you, or if you get knocked down by a fucking bus? You'd still be dead if you didn't use it.'

I heard the howl again, and I almost fancied the werewolf was adding his own spokes to Black's wheel, and some surge of recklessness in me had me nodding before I could stop to think things through properly. I didn't realise it then, or maybe subconsciously I did, but the plan had merits; it would allow me to see just what I could do with the stone, just what control I had over it, in case I had to use it again against Riddle, although practising on a werewolf was not really my preferred way of testing it. Of course, these were subconscious thoughts, if they really coalesced at all, but it didn't matter; Black was already almost dragging me towards the Shack, and for a man with hardly the strength to stand unaided, he seemed to be making a remarkable job of it.

I heard the soft swish of him changing to his Animagus form, and he was off, with me trailing a bit behind, remembering too late that I hadn't asked him how we should communicate with one another if something went wrong.

The black dog looked back over his shoulder at me, before nudging the door of the Shack open, just as another even more mournful howl sounded from within. It was soulful and injured, like some pitiable creature lost in the dark, and whilst I had to suppress a shudder at what I was about to face, I couldn't stem the flood of compassion I felt at his plight, and for all of our plights, and for what we had become. Perhaps it was as well I didn't know then just how much worse it could be.

I followed Black up the half-rotted wooden staircase to the top floor, and felt my knees almost buckle at a sight I shall never forget. I had never seen anything more forlorn than that miserable wretch, secured to the wall by magical chains, his head lolling onto his breast, blood-tainted mucus drooling from his maw. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, and each gulp of air made an unwholesome rattle deep in his chest. I had to do something; I had an awful feeling that he would not last that night if I didn't. I was about to move towards him, past the dog who stood whining, looking up at him, with his tail tucked between his back legs, when the werewolf sensed me. Even in the state he was in, his muzzle wrinkled and his long fangs became clearly visible, yellow streaked with blood, and I wondered from whence the blood had come, whether its source was the long gash on the foreleg chained loosely above his head.

The dog looked up at me from where he sat between me and the werewolf, and I rebuked myself again for not having worked out some way of communicating with him. His mind was closed to me though, or at least I could not find the key to open it, and I was about to begin to back away and just hope that we made it through until morning, when the dog stood and came to my side, rubbing his head against my thigh, much the way a cat would do. It took me a moment to realise he was trying to get my attention for a specific reason, and it was only when he rubbed my thigh again that I felt the hardness of the stone in my pocket, where it lay between us.

I slipped the stone from my pocket and held it up, but the werewolf had dropped his head to his heaving breast again, his muzzle still wrinkled, and the low snarl muttering its warning to stay away.

'Lupin,' I said tentatively, and the grey head turned, fangs bared and gleaming in the moonlight. 'Lupin, I need to help you ... I mean you no harm.'

Again the low dangerous snarl, and the ominous rattling sound of his breath, and the whine of the dog who had slunk low on his belly over to the werewolf.

I held the stone up again, and it was only when the white of the stone caught the white of the moonlight that the werewolf seemed to notice it. His eyes widened, and a strangled moan came from his lips: not something human, or even animal, some sound that seemed not to belong to this world, something not for the ears of man. I felt the stone throb, but in a different way from its anger at Riddle and Mordestone; this was something unworldly too, and it struck me then that the stone was not talking to the wolfman, it was singing to the moon. I was almost tempted to set it on the ground at the werewolf's feet and let it get on with its business on its own.

'Let me help you, Lupin,' I said. 'I know you know me, as I know you.' I kept the stone in his view as I walked slowly towards him, resisting the urge to turn and run for my life as I had done from his presence once before, as my knees threatened to give way in terror. 'I do not fear you, Lupin,' I said, 'and you must not fear me.'

He was watching me then, and the snarls had abated, just leaving the rattle. I had a bad feeling that I knew what caused it, that he had broken ribs, and that one had pierced a lung, probably as a result of some fearsome struggle against his bonds. I knew that it would not be terribly long before he drowned in his own blood, unless I could get his head down. But for all my scant and probably dangerous knowledge, I was not a mediwizard; I had no training of how to treat him, and yet I knew the injury could be treated, it need not be mortal if I could get him to have faith in me.

'I need to know you trust me to let me help you, Lupin,' I said, and I felt the stone throb again, and saw him shift his glance from me to the stone again, and then back. I don't know if he really relaxed a little, or if I imagined that, but it gave me the courage to edge closer still. I was almost within touching distance when he let out another low moan, this time followed by a choking noise, and the next thing I knew I was wiping foamy blood from my eyes, and his head had slumped onto his breast again. I threw caution to the wind, sent a quick plea to Merlin to help us in our darkest hour, and aimed my wand at the bonds holding his forelegs aloft. He slumped to the ground, mercifully for us all, unconscious.

It was fairly easy after that, after Black reverted to his natural form, and between us we sat the werewolf against the wall, his hind legs still in their bonds, and his head bent low. Black was more gifted at probing his body for injury than I was, but I think the joint effort really saved his life. I know one thing, had we not gone to him that night, he would have died, alone and shackled, with no one to watch over him but his ultimate mistress.

It was only an hour or so after we got him stabilised that the moon disappeared with the dawn, and gradually Remus Lupin reappeared, and for a man I had never particularly cared for, I was inordinately pleased to see him. We took him straight to Hogwarts, both Black and I under charms to hide our identities. Of course, Poppy knew who Sirius was; who else, after all, would bring the injured Lupin to her? I doubt she ever knew who I was though; to her I was just a stranger passing in the night. She assured us that she could care for Lupin now that he was in the Infirmary, and Black seemed to accept that.

As she left the little room at the top of the Infirmary, Lupin turned to me. 'Don't, Severus,' he said as I raised my wand. 'I trust you, I swear it. Please don't do this.'

'Obliviate,' I said with quiet regret. I turned away, and it was only when I closed the door behind me to allow him and Black a few moments alone that I added, 'I know, Lupin, but I cannot afford to trust you.'

*****

We didn't go straight back to Spinner's End, tired though we were, and went instead to Rosmerta's for breakfast. We were the only ones there, and I was almost tempted to drop my charms and just be myself, whoever that was, for once in my life. I wish even now that I had; it was the last chance I ever got. It was one of those mornings, one of those times I suppose we all look back on, and even now I see it, and not the night before, or even the days before, as one of the pivotal points in my life. Even after all that had happened during the last week, I found that it was that morning that perhaps is not foremost in my mind, but is certainly etched on my soul. It was the day that Sirius Black and Severus Snape set aside their adolescent differences completely and embarked on a plan to destroy the Dark Lord that lasted the rest of our lives, and destroyed us both, until we had nothing left to fight with, and not even one another to turn to.

'Do you have any kind of plan, Snape?' he asked as Rosmerta moved away from the table, frowning as she tried to see under the charms to the two men who sat so early in her bar that she still had her hair in curlers.

'Not really,' I admitted. 'I haven't had time. I don't even know what I am supposed to be planning for ... or against.'

'I suppose you could string Riddle along for a good while,' he said. 'Pretend not to know where to start.'

'I don't need to pretend,' I replied. 'Aqua Vitae is not real, Black. It is a figment of the imagination of those who seek immortality.'

'It began somewhere,' he argued, voicing the very reservation I had myself.

I found I was nodding. 'If that is the case it would be unwise for me to stall for too long then.'

'Why?'

'Because, Black, I am not the only man who can cobble a potion together,' I said, my thoughts on the matter clarifying for the first time. 'It would be foolish for me to disappoint Riddle, and have him find someone who can actually make the real thing ... not that it exists, or that such a man would be likely to satisfy the rest of the criteria.'

'Which are?' he asked, sticking a Muggle cigarette between his lips, and lighting it from the candle on the table.

'The similar bloodlines of the maker and the recipient for one,' I said. 'It is vitally important that the maker, the host, and recipient are of similar bloodlines.'

'Why?' he queried again, blowing a few smoke rings at the ceiling as he thought. 'For something that doesn't even exist, that's a very hard and fast rule.'

I nodded my agreement again at another bit of knowledge that troubled me, not so much the fact of it, as its source. I looked across to the door, to where it had opened, and two men came in and sat at another table. One of them was Peter Pettigrew and the other was James Potter. I'm not sure, but I fancied I saw distaste in the look Black shot them, the one he didn't manage to hide when I turned back to him, and I didn't think it was only directed at the admittedly un-likeable Pettigrew.

'Do you want to join them?' I asked. 'I suspect I should go back to whatever awaits in Spinner's End.'

Black shook his head. 'No, it's best I keep my whereabouts secret for now,' he said, and then went back to Aqua Vitae again. 'Are you seriously going to attempt this, Severus?' he asked, concern etching his tired face. 'I had thought that the point was keeping Riddle from gathering any more strength ... like becoming immortal,' he added with a cynical laugh.

'Indeed,' I agreed, as the plan began to firm in my mind. 'But let us say that it would be wise for me to brew my version of Aqua Vitae, than for some other potion maker to brew the real thing.'

'Can we carry that off?' he asked, and unlike when Riddle had used that inclusive "we", I felt as though something precious had been offered to me, something I had not ever really known; its name was friendship, something so profound that I almost gasped at its enormity.

'I think we have to, Black,' I replied, returning his compliment. 'I think too that it is time to go back.'

'Good idea,' he agreed, 'before there is blood on the walls. Lucius can be a little difficult, if I recall.'

'Lucius,' I repeated. 'I had forgotten all about Lucius.'

'How can you forget about anything that big?' he said. 'I confess I was more than a little put out that you had brought him. It's going to be a bit crowded ... even allowing for Ethel's talents.'

'Why not just stay with Lupin?' I asked him, and for once I didn't feel embarrassed about asking a personal question. 'Surely Dumbledore could find somewhere safe for you both ... even Hogwarts. The risk to you is not as great as to Andromeda, after all.'

'Lupin? Why would I want to stay with Lupin?' he asked. 'I think you misunderstand my relationship with Lupin, Snape ... he is my friend, one who would likely curse me into next week if I made any attempt to ... well, whatever ... Lupin is very much a ladies man. He only came to the club in Knockturn Alley to speak to me.' He paused for a moment, giving me a speculative look. 'You know, for a long time I thought that you ....'

'No,' I said quickly, cutting him off, and yet he was not the first to make that assumption. Hadn't Lucius been all too ready to believe it that night at the party? And hadn't Tom Riddle made his own plans in my direction? 'You have someone else?' I asked, trying to change the subject and not doing so at all, and immediately regretting it as I saw a cloud pass over his eyes.

'No, not now.' He was silent for a moment, and I wished we had left when we had first mentioned it. I was beginning to feel awkward, and I didn't really want to know any more. But he lit another cigarette, having just crushed out the last one, and seemed to want to go on. 'I lived for a while with someone I held very dear to me ... but he died.'

I knew I didn't mistake the hard edge his voice had taken, one that I didn't understand. 'Anyone I knew?' I asked.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It was Benjy Fenwick ... he was killed by Tom Riddle.'

There it was, the axe he ground, and it would be all the sharper for being personal. I just nodded. I remembered Fenwick, remembered how he had been murdered some six months before. 'You'll find someone else, I'm sure,' I said uselessly, as though a love could be replaced like a missing book.

He stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette, and I thought he felt he had said enough; I was wrong though, he hadn't quite finished. 'Yeah, I suppose so ... in fact for a while I thought I had ... but I was wrong,' he said, standing up and pushing his chair back, so it scraped on the floor and caused the other two men still sitting across the bar to look round. 'So you know my motivation, Severus ... what, I wonder, is yours?'

I couldn't put it into words, not any that didn't sound pretentious and insincere, until I took a moment to think properly. 'Redemption,' I said quietly. 'Isn't that what it's all about for all of us? Even Dumbledore.'

He nodded, and his mouth twisted in a cynical smile. 'So we can stand before whoever our God is on judgement day and say, "I made mistakes, but I tried to make it better"?'

'Something like that,' I said, standing too.

As we passed out of the bar I heard a tiny snatch of conversation from the two men huddled over the other table.

'You find Sirius, Peter. I want to know what he's up to,' Potter said to the man who seemed to cower in awe of him. 'Leave that bastard Snape to me.'

*****

It was almost lunchtime when we got to Spinner's End, and once again we had come the back way, and once again I had forgotten to take my whisky from its hiding place in the warehouse.

This time the hall was empty, and the only voices I could hear were those of Ethel and Dumbledore, and I found I was mildly surprised he had stayed so long. I stopped in the living room, not noticing the cautious looks I got from both the old man and Ethel, or if did I linked them to Lupin's welfare.

'He is at Hogwarts,' I answered the unasked question. 'Madam Pomfrey says she will care for him now.' I glanced to where Black was making his way through to the kitchen, before turning back to a rather quiet Ethel and Dumbledore. 'Has Tonks left?' I asked.

Dumbledore nodded, and seemed about to say something, but I wanted to speak to Andromeda, regretting and feeling a bit childish that I had not spoken to her since I had come back from the manor, and then had virtually sneaked away with Black. Of course, that had been because Tonks had been there, and now he had left it was easy for me to forgive him ever having gone to Spinner's End. But Black was on his way back into the living room, wearing a worried look that he changed to accusation as he turned to Dumbledore. He was trailing a rather discontented looking Lucius, but there didn't seem to be anyone else following, and I at last understood something: Ted Tonks wasn't the only person to have left the building ... he had taken Andromeda with him.

I spun on Dumbledore, giving vent to the first outraged nonsense that sprang into my head. 'You self-serving bastard,' I hissed, as though I had not gone to either the manor or the Shack of my own accord. 'At least Tom Riddle displays his prices on the goods he seeks to sell me.' I turned to Black, as though he were my only real ally. 'I was wrong, you know. It isn't only about redemption; for some people it's all about personal glory.'

I stormed out of the house, and knowing that I had made no sense at all only served to fuel my bitterness. I was just about to slip out of the charm surrounding the house, when I felt Ethel begin to chide me in my mind. "And stay out of my fucking head." I sent the vicious thought back. "That goes for Dumbledore too."

*****