Excuses for Killing One Another

Excuses for Killing One Another

*

Chapter 2:

To Be Scared and Italian

*

Severus was fuming as he packed his things into a trunk. He would never, ever forgive Dumbledore for this particular stunt. Honestly, could it get any worse? He could barely stand Lupin's presence in the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix. How was he expected to live with the man? To stay under the same roof, to see him at mealtimes, to -- to have human interaction with him? Impossible.

Of course, somebody might have claimed that as he'd done all those things at Hogwarts, but that didn't change anything. The point was that at Hogwarts, there were always other teachers around, other people who Severus was also forced to meet and talk with. However, now he would be alone with Lupin. There would be no outsiders meddling with whatever happened between them. And, frankly, the thought scared Severus -- not that he would have ever admitted it to even himself, of course.

He was a lycanthrophobe, that he was ready to admit. Everybody knew of his dislike for Lupin, which was even greater than that he had for most people, and only because of the man's werewolf status. However, what nobody else knew was that rather than hating, like with homophobes, Severus's phobia was, well, a phobia. As in, being scared of. He blamed it all on Black and the incredibly childish and dangerous prank the man had pulled on their sixth year, and he denied it completely from even himself. Severus Snape was never afraid of anything. Others were afraid of him. And, most importantly, he hid it, hid it behind so many layers of hate, malice, and finetuned nastiness that nobody could ever see it.

It wasn't like his hate for Lupin had only been a cover for his fear, no, Merlin forbid. He truly did hate the man for everything he and his Marauder friends had forced him to go through during his school years, for being a Gryffindor that Albus always favoured, for taking the job he'd wanted. This hate just served well as a cover-up for his fear, hiding it from even Severus himself. Of course it wasn't a shudder of fear that went through him whenever Lupin glanced at him, it was a shiver of disgust. Of course he didn't avoid Lupin in the wolf form because of fear, but because he despised the animal-man. It was so easy that way.

However, if they were forced to stay in each other's proximity for a longer time with no outsider intrusion, Severus was worried about what might happen. Something was bound to happen. It couldn't be anything good, that he knew for sure; nothing good ever happened to him. Therefore, it had to be something bad.

Therefore, Severus's sigh was a deep one as he finally banged the trunk shut. Then, with a wave of his wand, he shrank the trunk, and then put it into his pocket. Reaching for the Floo powder, he then called out the name of his destination, and stepped into the fireplace as the flames flared green.

It wasn't too bad, he decided as he stepped gracefully out of the fireplace in his destination. The living room of the tiny cottage had tasteful furniture, and, thankfully, not a hint of red and gold anywhere. Of course, there wasn't anything green and silver around, either, but that he could live with. The high bookshelf full of books looked rather inviting. All in all, the only bad thing that met his eye was Lupin.

Lupin was already there, of course. He was sitting on a couch, seemingly deeply immersed in some book. Just as Severus arrived, the werewolf looked up from his book, and smiled. Smiled, for Merlin's sake! What did he think Severus was? His friend, or something equally ridiculous?

"I was wondering when you would show up," Lupin said, and grinned. "I see you weren't too scared of the Big Bad Wolf, then." Oblivious to Severus's snort, he continued still just as happily, "There are two rather large built-in wardrobes in the bedroom. The one on the right side of the door is yours, as well as the nightstand on the right side of the bed."

"For Salazar's sake, Lupin," Severus murmured, "do not remind me of the fact that there is only one bed. The thought is horrifying enough as it is, even without your input." Indeed. The mere thought of being in the same bed with Lupin made him shudder. This time, it was in genuine disgust, not fear.

"Oh, don't worry. We can take turns on it," Lupin said cheerfully. "I'll even take the couch first, if you want." Bloody Gryffindor. What reason did he have to be so bloody happy and cheerful? It must have been some kind of a side effect from being forced to live in the middle of too much red and gold. Actually, it wasn't a wonder that Gryffindors were all the same. Severus had no doubt that he himself would have gone crazy as well if he'd been forced to live in such an environment. It was just by sheer force of will that he could even stand seeing the Gryffindor badges in the students' robes.

Severus snorted. "I sincerely hope you didn't mean that statement to sound like it did," he said dryly. Cheerfulness was certainly bad enough; if the Gryffindor was purposefully putting double entendres in everything he said, then Severus would gladly indeed stay in the Forbidden Forest during the castle's repair.

"What do you mean?" Lupin looked perfectly innocent and confused about what he had said. Well, at last he had found a Gryffindor who was a decent actor, at least. Not that he'd been very happy about that.

"Forget it," sighed Severus. "It's not worth mentioning." Then he sneered. "I do hope, though, that you don't have some insufferable habits, like a tendency to howl at the moon or something equally irritating."

"Oh, I assure you that I have no irritating habits at all," the werewolf said, smiling a bit. "Least of all do I feel any urges to howl at the moon. However, I also do hope that you don't have anything of the kind."

"Me? Having urges to howl at the moon?" replied Severus, raising an eyebrow. "Merlin forbid that, Lupin."

"Indeed." And again, Lupin gave him that blasted grin. "I hope you can cook, though. I've made some lasagna for dinner tonight, but that's about all I can do. Oh, and don't look at me like that," he sighed then as he saw Severus's expression. "It is really good, believe me. It's not even poisoned."

"Like I would ever trust you, Lupin," the Potions Master snorted. Lasagna? Wasn't that Muggle food, and horrible for even that? He remembered trying it once, when Albus had decided to have some thousand times damned "theme food week" of Italian food. Of course, he had been beaming at Severus especially when he'd announced this. For Salazar's sake, when was the man going to believe that Severus was not Italian? He had been born and grown in England. He despised Italian food. The fact that he'd spent all summers in his childhood at his Grandmamma's villa in Naples proved nothing, really. And besides, the said Grandmamma was the only one who still called him Severio. Anyway, he hated lasagna. Despised it.

However, now he was seemingly forced to choose between lasagna and starvation. Splendid, indeed.

With a very deep sigh, Severus then went to the bedroom to put away his belongings. Lupin stayed in the living room, happily reading his book again. Out of sheer curiosity -- the only bad habit he would ever admit to have -- Severus stole a peek at the cover of the book. It took all his willpower not to groan aloud.

Lupin was reading "The Three Little Pigs."

*