Old Ghosts

The coffee was bitter. Remus stirred at it hopefully, watching the swirl of cream form a spiral as it followed the movement of the silver spoon. He had never cared for coffee; tea was more to his taste, but when he had questioned the waitress with the bouffant and pink rayon uniform about the types of tea available, she had given him such a quizzical look that he'd hastily ordered coffee instead. Besides, he thought reflectively, another cup of lukewarm, watered down orange pekoe is not to my taste. Earl Grey, apparently, was unheard of in America, at least in greasy spoon diners.

Unable to restrain the small smile that rose to his lips, Remus had to admit that Severus had indeed taken pains to ensure their cover would not be blown. No one in the wizarding world would ever expect to find them in an American Muggle diner, listening to whiny country music as it poured from a box flashing pink and green lights. Remus thought Arthur Weasley might like such a place, but Severus's usual style it was not.

Pleasant tinkling from the small bell over the door signalled Severus's arrival and Remus turned slightly to observe how well Severus Snape, pureblood wizard with a notable dislike of all things Muggle, had dressed. To his surprise, Severus had managed a perfect outfit -- crisp black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The black boots gleaming from beneath the hem of the trousers were dragon hide, but Remus doubted anyone would notice.

"Automobiles," Severus hissed by way of greeting as he slid into the red vinyl booth opposite Remus, scowling. "How they stand them I don't know. The thing smoked and hitched the entire drive."

Through the window Remus could see a plume of bluish grey smoke floating on the wind. He took another sip of the hateful coffee to hide his smile. "The vehicle is probably a stick shift, Severus," Remus explained calmly, his warm honey-coloured eyes twinkling with irrepressible amusement. At Severus's blank look he continued. "It requires the driver to shift into different gears, depending on the speed and terrain."

Slowly, Severus nodded once, his black eyes distrustful and displeased as he regarded Remus's face, searching for any sign that he was being mocked. "That stick?" he asked finally. "I thought it was a decoration."

"No, one shifts it according to the numbers." Remus frowned and set his porcelain mug down onto the saucer, lusting for his familiar polished silver tea set and some cranberry orange scones, or perhaps chocolate biscuits. "Admittedly, I'm not too familiar with it myself. Sirius gave me a few lessons; he drove a stick shift before getting that motorbike of his, but I daresay he tampered with it. Strictly speaking, Muggle automobiles do not fly."

"Black," Severus spat, taking no notice of the pained gleam in Remus's eyes at the sound of the name. He shrugged to indicate that he did not care to devote his energies to learning anything Sirius Black had found enjoyable. "Next time I won't bother with the ruse. I merely wanted to approach in a suitable manner. Apparating has a tendency to scare Muggles out of their wits."

Smothering a laugh in a cough, Remus nodded, recalling his first Apparation lesson. The students of his class had been lined up on the Quidditch pitch and were to Apparate to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Remus, in his usual form, had been studying the process for days, quizzing himself repeatedly. He'd ended up splinched in the middle of Hogsmeade, much to the amusement of shoppers. Sirius, of course, had performed perfectly without so much as a single practise session or five minutes of studying. "Yes, Severus, that is true," he answered finally, noting the impatient look in Severus's eyes. "Well, do you have the reports?"

"I do." Severus reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a roll of parchment, which he slid across the Formica table with the air of someone dealing drugs. Furtively glancing around to see if he was being spied upon, Severus motioned for Remus to hide the report in his beaten suede jacket. Content that they were not being watched, Severus reclined against the back of the booth. "They have a plan now, one which is nearly complete. Apparently, the Dark Lord --" He paused hastily, biting off the words as the waitress bent across him, passing out cutlery. Instantly, he paled, certain the Muggle would detect something abnormal in their conversation.

Through a heavy application of bright pink lipstick, the waitress beamed. "Role playing games," she said knowledgeably. Patting her ratted blonde hair -- which both Severus and Remus were certain was not her natural colour -- she smiled. "My son plays them religiously. Dungeons and Dragons! I tell him, 'Joe, come out of the basement and spend some time in the light of day', but he's obsessed. So, which do you play?"

Flustered, Severus opened and closed his mouth, so Remus cut in smoothly. "Dark Lord," he answered, making up the lie easily. Should be used to it, after all the times I lied to get Sirius and James out of trouble, he thought. "The object of which is, of course, to kill the Dark Lord before he kills us."

"Is that so? I'll have to buy that for Joey. He loves those strategy games," the waitress replied with a grin. "Well then, what can I getcha? The burger plate is today's special."

"Have you got quiche?" Remus questioned, then immediately shook his head, remembering where he was. "I mean, the -- ah -- burger plate."

"Fish and chips," Severus demanded, thrusting the menus back at the waitress and looking sullen. When the waitress vanished, leaving behind only the rather medicinal smell of her hair spray, Severus turned to Remus, his eyes bright with fury. "What were you thinking, telling a Muggle that? The statue of secrecy still stands, Remus, or have you forgotten?"

Pushing his coffee away, Remus smiled. "Severus, she has absolutely no idea what we're talking about. Muggles don't know that there is a Dark Lord. She thinks it's a game we're discussing. Now, the plan?"

Sceptical though he was, Severus had to admit that the Muggle woman had not flown into a panic at the mention of the Dark Lord. He shook his head, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes. Muggles. "As I was saying before our rude interruption, the plan is nearly complete. The Dark Lord is tired of attempting to capture Potter by trickery. He means to use brute force. There will be three spears of attack; Lucius will lead the first, though I'm not sure who will lead the others. I have been assigned a post beneath Lucius. Apparently, a charm exists, which the Death Eaters have been developing, that can momentarily knock down the wards and defences on the castle."

Giving Remus a moment to consider the information, Severus sipped his water. Severus's face, pale as always, looked tired. For weeks he had been working around the clock, covering his teaching post at Hogwarts during the day and then going to Voldemort's side when summoned in the evenings. Images he had hoped never to see again burned against his eyelids; pictures of agony, murder and death. Suppressing a shudder, for Severus never allowed himself to be perceived as weak, he thought about the exploits of the previous evening. After a night of drinking, the Death Eaters had travelled to the home of a well known Ministry official and committed savage atrocities on the occupants. Madam Bones was no more, though Severus doubted the rest of the wizarding world knew that yet. He closed his eyes for a moment, offering a second of silence for her memory, as she had fought valiantly until the end.

"They plan to attack the castle," Remus mused. "When? Hogwarts will need to be closed, the students evacuated. Even with Dumbledore, if the defences don't hold..." He trailed off, the colour fading from his face. "When, Severus? When does Voldemort plan to strike?"

"Soon," Severus answered. "Nothing is definite yet, but within the month most certainly. The charm to repel the wards is nearly complete. In the mean time, Voldemort is gathering defences."

Remus sighed. "The Imperious?"

"The only way he knows how," Severus nodded. "The ranks of the Death Eaters have swollen with the Dark Lord's reincarnation. So many old, pureblood families who did not trust him now have faith that he can succeed. He has conquered death; they are certain he will conquer Potter and the Ministry. Still, that's not enough. The Imperious Curse is being used in abundance."

"And Cruciatus, I suppose that is another tool," Remus stated. There was no need to question; the haggard look in Severus's eyes answered the question well enough. A momentary flare of pity and thanks bloomed in Remus's chest. It was obvious Severus had suffered far greater then those who openly opposed Voldemort. "You?"

Reluctantly, Severus answered with a curt nod. "I voiced opposition to the plan of attack. I suggested that there was no need for innocent students -- pureblood students -- to be harmed just to get at Potter. I was told that no sacrifice is too great, not even the sons and daughters of those in our ranks. The curse...I have experienced it before," he added, shrugging in cold dismissal. There was furious pride gleaming in his onyx eyes as he stared at Remus. "Ten minutes of pain, far less then will be endured by anyone captured in this attack."

As much as Remus's nature impelled him to reach across the table and give Severus's hand a reassuring pat, he knew the gesture would be misunderstood. Severus did not abide by sympathy or comfort, and Remus respected him enough not to press it. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully. "I will tell Dumbledore, we should begin to plan the evacuation, as well as Harry's relocation, of course. He cannot return to the Dursley's home, Voldemort cannot go himself, but he can send Dementors."

"There is more, I'm afraid," Severus said, glaring. "Lucius suggested that the Unforgiveables be taught to the children of Death Eaters, to be used against other students during the attack. If the students are controlled, there is no telling who is safe and who isn't. The most unlikely of students, a Hufflepuff, for example, could be controlled from a distance and made to report back to the Death Eaters. Secrecy, even from the most trustworthy, is a requirement."

"I see," Remus said slowly. "Not even Harry's closest friends can know where he is to be hidden."

"Correct, and none may be given any clue that the Death Eater's plan has been uncovered. If they do, word could get back. The merest breath of anything amiss at Hogwarts could bring the Order's main defence, prior knowledge, crumbling down. I don't think it would take them long to determine who the leak is." Severus bared his teeth, looking as if he was ready to take on the lot of Death Eaters immediately.

The waitress approached, bearing a tray full of plates. Remus, who had skipped lunch, found he was no longer hungry, but he smiled appreciatively at the waitress anyway and made a big deal over the burger plate as if he'd never seen anything so delicious. Severus, who accepted his breaded cod with a sneer, watched him, one eyebrow raised incredulously.

Idly twirling a french fry between his fingers, Remus thought about Sirius. Were he alive, Remus was sure Sirius would be desperate to be in the middle of the plan. He probably would take to guarding Harry, sleeping on Harry's bed in dog form and prowling the grounds, growling menacingly. The thought, instead of paining him, brought Remus strength. A werewolf was put through too many things and subjected to too many prejudices to hold on to very many beliefs, but Remus knew with absolute certainty that Sirius was beside him every step of the way. He could practically feel the familiar, impatient breath blowing on his neck.

"Nice to see someone's getting pleasure out of the thought of life as we know it being destroyed," sneered Severus. "Thinking happy thoughts about the end of the world, Lupin, or do you just enjoy looking like a mindless idiot?"

"Charming," Remus answered, smiling at Severus across the table. "You have the best manners of anyone I know, Severus. I appreciate the way you don't waste time beating around the bush before you insult someone. Refreshing, really."

That shut Severus up, as Remus had intended. His motto, back when he'd been a daydreaming sixth year and actually kept a motto handy, had been all about killing with kindness. If anyone could be brought to their knees by a nice dose of sweetness, it was surely Severus Snape.

Not content with silence, Severus directed his complaints to the fish, which was, in his expert opinion, dry, mushy, greasy and lacking in flavour all at once. He complained about the notable absence of vinegar and the measly lemon slice. However, when the waitress wandered past once more and asked how the meal was, he merely grunted approval.

"Harry will put up a protest, of course," Remus broke in, cutting off the complaints about the meal that, despite all it's problems, apparently appealed to Severus, who was consuming it rapidly. "He believes he is old enough to stand and fight. Of course, he will never stand for being tucked safely away while others die in a battle over him."

"Potter," Severus spat unkindly, "will have to accept whatever Albus decides to do with him. He's a child still."

"Seventeen," Remus answered calmly, sliding the salt across to Severus, who was looking for it frantically. "He's not so young; he's of age, in fact. I for one think he ought to have a say in the situation. Locking him away while others duel to protect him will not be taken as kindly; Harry sees that sort of thing as a lack of trust on his part. He wants to join the Order, Severus."

Clanging, the fork Severus had been using on his fish dropped against the plate. "Nothing doing," Severus stated firmly, his eyes bright and furious. "Seventeen or not, he is still a child, Remus. I won't risk harm to him after all I've gone through on his behalf." Severus's eyes were alight with anger, but Remus could see something else reflected in the black surfaces. A fierce desire to protect Harry was gleaming from within the shadowy depths, an instinct Severus might not recognise, might deny even, but which was plainly visible.

Pushing his uneaten hamburger aside, Remus sighed. "And if Dumbledore says Harry is old enough to stand and fight? What then, Severus? At seventeen he is of age to join the Order. His closest friends will be fighting this battle."

"That is for the headmaster to decide," Severus answered in a biting tone, clearly disturbed by the proposition. "But I highly doubt Albus Dumbledore will endanger his prize pupil, last hope of salvation for the wizarding world." His voice took on a mocking lilt as he shook his head in disgust. "Potter will have to settle for making it through the war alive, which is a better option then some of us face."

The comment gave Remus pause. It was true enough; unless something happened to turn the tide, many of the Order would not see the other side of the war. Voldemort's forces, once depleted and exhausted, were at full strength. The Dark wizard himself had risen just three years earlier and for all intents and purposes appeared immortal. Already, the wizarding world was beginning it's slow descent into terror. It had been less then two years previous when Cornelius Fudge had finally allowed the newspapers to print the story of Voldemort's return and many wizards still denied the possibility of a renewed Dark Lord. Remus knew better. Reports of missing witches and wizards continued to multiply and tales of terror were exchanged in the streets. He sighed. The thought of death, which had once brought him only terror, was now suffused with a sort of comfort. Dying meant seeing Sirius and James once more. He allowed himself the briefest moment to consider this before glancing up.

"If you're ready, Severus, I should be returning to Albus with these." Remus patted his jacket pocket as he swung the coat over his shoulders. "He's expecting me soon and at any rate, I have an early class to teach tomorrow."

Bristling, Severus nodded curtly. Despite his vital role as a spy for the Order, Severus had never gotten over losing the Defence Against the Dark Arts position to Remus once more. Personally, Remus would have gladly traded, he was just thankful to feel useful again. In the year following Sirius's death he had wandered aimlessly, unable to find work or even collect his thoughts. Dumbledore's insistence that he return to his teaching post had helped drag him out of the hazy netherworld of thoughts he had been drowning in.

"I trust you'll not be returning tonight?" Remus asked as both men rose from the booth.

Severus shook his head. "No," he answered bitterly. "There are -- plans." He glanced away, his eyes distant and pained for the barest second. "I should stumble through the Floo with ten minutes to spare before my morning class. Otherwise, of course, I would accompany you to the meeting and deliver my information to Dumbledore himself." The words seemed kindly enough but the tone was harsh, punishing Remus for the luxury of a regular life.

"Shall I?" Remus questioned, picking up the bill that had been left on the table. Without waiting for an answer he left an American twenty dollar bill on the edge of the table. "You can pay next time."

"How thoughtful of you," Severus sneered, but he collected himself and followed Remus outside.

The sun had gone down during their chat, leaving the sky a beautiful midnight blue, which Remus stared at for a moment, searching among the stars for a particular star. Spotting it, he smiled and then turned to Severus. "I presume now is not the time to offer driving lessons?"

"I'm leaving the car," Severus answered, tossing the keys onto the sandy ground without a second thought. "It was stolen anyway." Without a farewell, he vanished abruptly, Apparating to wherever Voldemort had summoned him.

Plucking up the set of keys from where they had fallen, Remus tilted his head once more to the stars. It was foolish to pray to constellations in hopes of Sirius hearing him, but Remus could not resist sending thoughts out to Sirius anyway. Content that Sirius had heard his plea for support, he slid into the car and started the engine, pleased with it's easy purr. As he pulled away, planning to drive the car back to it's original owner, Remus opened the glove compartment, wondering from whom Severus had stolen the automobile. The compartment was empty, however, save for a small purple rabbit's foot key chain.

The car slid off the road onto the sandy shoulder as Remus slammed onto the brakes. Trembling and panting, Remus snatched up the key chain, turning it over. It was cheap, something won from a fair booth, slightly faded with time. Two keys hung on it, one gold and one a black skeleton key much too long to fit a Muggle lock. Remus felt himself shake as if he'd just been hit with a gust of freezing air. He uncurled his fist, bringing the keys closer to his face. Etched very faintly on the black key was the number twelve. The other, the tarnished gold key, however, stole the breath from Remus's lungs. He hadn't forgotten it, how could he? He could still recall the pleasure of holding the key to his very first flat. In the rapidly fading light, Remus could barely make out the scratches, made from a penknife on an evening long ago, that marked the key "RJL London".