Orion's Pointer

Lupin sat in silence, trying desperately not to fidget, but Snape could see that he was having a very bad time of it. The werewolf kept raising his hand to his mouth to nibble at those disgusting nails of his--an old habit of agitation that went right back to his school days.

Good. Snape didn't want Lupin feeling the least bit comfortable in this situation. His eyes travelled to the livid scar along Lupin's jawline, not quite healed despite the man undoubtedly having used whatever poor-quality wound repair medication he could afford. Lycanthropic injuries were notoriously hard to treat, even if they were self-inflicted. This one looked like it had come from the full moon three days past.

"Have you already finished the Wolfsbane I gave you?"

Lupin blinked, somewhat surprised that the statue sitting opposite him had finally spoken.

They were alone in the library, seated in the Restricted Section and thus even less likely to be disturbed, their table illuminated in a pool of golden light speckled with dust that isolated them from the surrounding shadows. It had been on Snape's insistence that they meet here, and so it'd had to take place in the late evening when the library was closed to students. Madam Pince had been rather vociferous in her displeasure that her domain would be occupied in such a fashion, but Snape had insisted that it was the library or nowhere, leaving Lupin to sweet-talk the vulture-like librarian into letting them encroach on her space. Snape had been mildly disgusted that Lupin had managed to do so.

"I... ah... no, I haven't," Lupin finally replied, fiddling about with the pile of parchments and books sitting on the table in front of him.

"Then why have you injured yourself? The potion is sufficiently strong enough to keep you unconscious during your... affliction."

Lupin pressed his lips together and looked everywhere except at Snape, his eyes rather wide in their heavily shadowed hollows.

"You've been giving it to that lyc-girl, haven't you?"

It wasn't really a question, so Lupin didn't vocally answer, but his hunched shoulders replied in the affirmative.

"I thought I had told you that I will not provide such medication to others."

The werewolf's guilty expression hardened into stubbornness, but he still failed to look Snape in the eye. "If I recall, Severus, you said that you would not supply anyone else with it. Technically, that is still the case."

"Don't split hairs, Lupin. You're giving your medication to someone else, which is not only stupid and dangerous but an insult to me, as well. Did it never occur to you that the strength of what I give you is too great for someone her age?" Lupin risked a quick, uncertain glance at him, making him sneer. "No, I didn't think so. I suggest you go back to taking what I give you and giving her the cheap facsimile you appear to be dosing yourself with." Lupin opened his mouth to make some rather vigorous response, but Snape cut him off. "Make no mistake. I don't give a damn if you take the Wolfsbane Potion I give you or not, but I will have something to say if you medicate someone else with it. I will not be held responsible for the damage such idiocy will cause."

Lupin glared frostily at him. "Don't you get tired of being so ratty all the time, Severus?" It was a question he normally asked with a faint smile on his face, something that he tended to goad Snape with without any real malice or negative intent behind it, a regular joke that poked fun at the dark-haired man's infamous disposition, but this time it seemed a genuine, if rather bitter, inquiry.

"No. I find it's the only way I can tolerate the monumental vacuity of the people around me."

Lupin tutted.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get this over and done with."

"What makes you think I want to be here any more than you?" Lupin snapped, his eyes flashing angrily, sitting up higher in his chair.

Snape said nothing. He merely opened his mouth slightly to let the tip of his tongue lick out at the corner.

Lupin's face went an interesting shade of red, and he fussed angrily at the pages in front of him, pointedly avoiding Snape's gaze. "Dumbledore tells me you have information on what Macnair and... Greyback are doing," he began rather sullenly. "How about we start there?"

Snape made it three times as difficult for Lupin to get the information he wanted, which the werewolf clearly found exasperating after Snape's insistence that this whole collaboration end as soon as possible as well as his deliberate attempt to make Lupin feel awkward.

Both Macnair and Greyback were manoeuvring themselves towards controlling a very large portion of the werewolf population. Greyback was doing it through his usual methods of fear and violence, illustrating to the werewolves that unless they submitted to his authority, they'd find themselves on the receiving end of a brutal display of mania. Macnair was doing it through a more insidious yet no less stark manner: addiction. Whilst the Ministry's Executioner was capable of some spectacular feats of savagery, he obviously felt that it was easier to use drugs rather than fear to enslave lycanthropes to his cause. True, it was a much more expensive method, but whatever Macnair couldn't afford he just took. He was bleeding Todianus for a goodly portion of his required supplies, and no doubt pushing the apoth towards financial ruin, but that wouldn't have made a dent on the membranous layer of empathy in him.

Addiction. The word soured Snape's attitude even further, making Lupin stammer his questions as the features of the man opposite him darkened and hardened. Four days, and he was still not free of it; largely, but not entirely. The first day had been the worst. Determined not to miss a day of teaching, Snape had consumed triple the dose of Addict's End he would normally have prescribed, which consequently made him jittery, sweaty and not a little nauseous--symptoms he'd tried to hide from both students and faculty as much as he could by shunning company unless it was absolutely necessary.

He'd managed to stiff-leg his way through the days, the bones of his limbs aching in a way they hadn't since his pre-adolescence, but the nights had been unrelieved. He slept even more fitfully than normal, adrift in a groundless blackness, all his focus on that tiny point of contact, like a madman with his hands pressed to a mark on a wall, trying to pull the connection inside him to help assuage the agony of withdrawal. He clutched at it even as his hate for her increased.

Whether it was through her own difficulties with illness or the knowledge that he would be far from welcoming at her presence, he didn't know, but Parr made herself a ghost, an apparition that slid past him whenever they came close to each other. She had missed the first Potions class of the week altogether, another excusatory note from Poppy finding its way into his hand.

Was he annoyed by that? Snape shrugged irritably to himself as Lupin's quill scratched noisily along the slightly roughened surface of the parchment. He would have been furious had Parr appeared for her last day of servitude to him. In fact, he had braced himself for that, determined to have her run from his ire as he unleashed accusing words of contempt and disgust at what she had done to him, at what she'd tricked him into. What she'd weakened him with. He clenched his hands into fists so tight he thought the knuckles would split through the skin.

All Parr had wanted was to get the information she needed from the apoth: where her Handler was. He hadn't known how strong the need in her had been until it was too late.

That initial subsuming of his mind into hers had been incredible, the combination fortifying both of them beyond what he had thought possible--the whole far greater than the sum of its parts, but the Apparition to London had still cut her feet out from underneath her. She must have spent nearly twenty minutes shuddering on her knees, tears streamed down her face and the bandaging around her neck growing redder with blood leaking from her wounds from the pressure of her vomiting. At the time, it hadn't occurred to him why it had been so bad for her. He had just been mildly confused as to why the anti-emetic he'd given her hadn't worked. It wasn't until much later that he guessed she'd taken his own nausea from him in most likely the same fashion that she pushed her hunger onto him. After all, he had not felt one spasm of queasiness at the sight of her sicking her guts up in the gutter of a back alley, and normally even the description of it in a text would be enough to set him off.

Parr hadn't lied when she had said to him that he needed to be stronger than her. It had taken more than all of his willpower to stop her from cutting Todianus' flabby throat when they learned he didn't know where Greyback was hiding. It had only been Snape's directive to Todianus to find out that information by whatever means possible that had stayed her hand, otherwise she would have shredded him to pulp in her furious disappointment.

He'd been luckier than he had first realised that the apoth had not known where the Handler was. Snape was positive that Parr would have shaken him off and made for the hidden location, and there would have been nothing he would have done to stop her. He'd risked setting loose a harbinger of terrible consequence. Who knew what devastation she could have wrought, unchecked, uncontrolled, a berserker who would have pulverised anything that got in her way. As well he might have attempted to fend off a giant with a tree branch for all the efficacy his attempt to rein her in had. She had only followed his mental demands because she had wanted to. She could have cut herself free of him right there and vanished into the night, leaving him to explain to Dumbledore what had happened through his foolishness.

He may still not avoid the Headmaster's ire if the man ever found out what had happened. That was why he had asked Parr if she would tell Dumbledore what had occurred that night. For now, perhaps, she would say nothing, but when would that change? Snape had to make sure that the advantages to staying silent outweighed those that came from speaking out. Yet another tightrope he would have to walk.

"Have you... ah... heard anything about either Macnair or... Greyback deliberately searching out lyc-females?" Lupin asked hesitantly, shifting about in his chair as if he had a burr in his pants.

Snape narrowed his eyes and didn't respond. This was the first confirmation of something that he had suspected but had been unable to gain any solid proof of. Even Todianus seemed vague on the details, claiming that he was only told a fraction of what Macnair and Greyback were up to.

Lupin was predictable, almost painfully so. Snape knew he only had to string out the silence and the man would fill the gap with what he knew. He was already fiddling about with his quill, shoulders rounded in ever so slightly and tipping his head to one side so that his greying fringe of hair kept clear of his eyes. He looked like a dog trying to appear winsome in the hopes its owner would bestow a treat upon him. Snape just gazed back at him patiently, eyes half-closed, waiting for him to crack.

"It's just that... ah... I've heard whispers of a place where a large number of lyc-females are being kept," Lupin revealed, "but I don't know where exactly."

Snape raised his eyebrows a fraction.

"No-one will tell me," the werewolf explained rather dejectedly, hunching his shoulders a little more as if admitting his ineptitude.

"I'm not surprised," Snape noted with a slight sneer. "Logic would suggest that one way to bolster the lyc-population is through breeding, and that, just in case you'd forgotten, requires both males and females."

"Thank you, Severus. I am aware of both the mechanics and the requirements of sexual reproduction!"

"What a revolting thought," Snape revealed, increasing the intensity of his sneer. "However, why would either Macnair or Greyback use breeding to increase numbers when infection is faster?"

Lupin rolled the shaft of his quill between his ink-stained fingers. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Patently obvious," was the response, making Lupin flush in irritation. "If increasing numbers is not the reason for hoarding lyc-females, what would be?"

Lupin considered this question for some time, a frown creasing his forehead.

Snape tutted. "Must I walk you through everything, Lupin? You should know better than anyone the effect lyc-females have on lyc-males, especially around the full moon."

Recognition flared in the werewolf's eyes. "Control?"

Snape inclined his head. Lupin sighed and dropped his quill onto the table.

"Your problem is that you're incapable of manipulating others, so you cannot see when someone is manipulating circumstance," Snape told him in a faintly accusing tone.

"Oh, I'm more aware of the use of manipulation than you think, Severus," Lupin retorted gently, looking him straight in the eye. "It's a tool that some people just can't help but use to keep others off-balance."

Snape kicked at the man's momentary stability by smiling at him. Lupin pressed his lips together and dropped his eyes quickly, fumbling for his quill.

"How can you possibly teach Defence Against the Dark Arts when you don't even know the basics?" the Potions master carped at him. "Dangling a breeding partner in front of a lyc-male is the only reliable way to control him, especially at the full moon. Greyback would know what truly motivates a werewolf as well as how to source lyc-females. Therefore it would be my conclusion that Greyback and Macnair are working together in order to assemble this rather dangerous harem. Greyback's undoubtedly stupid enough to attempt it whilst still being aware of the risk, relying on Macnair to provide the drugs he's most likely keeping them subdued with."

"Greyback is insane," Lupin muttered, scratching out a series of hatched lines in the margin of his parchment in agitation. "He wouldn't give two shits about the risk."

"Lupin, have you ever seen a lyc-female? And I mean a fully grown one, not a juvenile like the one you've shackled yourself with."

There was a long pause before he replied. "Not that I'm consciously aware of," Lupin admitted, still scratching away absently at the increasingly darkening margin of parchment with his quill tip. "Though perhaps I have while... ah... you know." He shrugged one shoulder and tugged at the front of his patched cardigan in discomfort.

"Well, I have," Snape told him coldly. "An adult lyc-female could rip a man from groin to throat without the slightest difficulty and with even less provocation." He tipped his head back to squint down his nose at Lupin. "A transformed lyc-female would be even more deadly. Greyback wouldn't stand a chance against one."

"Where did you see one?" Lupin asked, his eyes wide with interest but a crease of disbelief across his forehead.

Snape ran the tip of his tongue along the sharp points of his back teeth and considered how much to let the man opposite him know. "I don't believe it's relevant to the discussion."

"I do," Lupin said rather snippily, folding his arms tightly and defensively. "If it'll help us to track down where Macnair and ... Greyback are holding these lyc-females, then you should tell me!" The stony set to his features deepened the lines of premature aging on his face, making him look more than a decade older than his true years.

"It won't," Snape told him dismissively. "It happened some time ago and some distance from London."

Lupin scowled at his evasiveness. They stared at each other, the impasse accentuated by the spattering of rain drops against the tall windows of the library. The werewolf sighed, rubbed a knuckle under his nose and picked up his quill once more.

"What was she like?"

Snape blinked at him.

"The lyc-female," Lupin elaborated. "What was she like?" He twisted the shaft of the quill between his fingers in rapid little movements, his nostrils flared, looking up though his fringe at Snape.

"Terrifying," Snape told him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His dark eyes darted to one side momentarily and the corner of his mouth curved upwards. "And magnificent."

Lupin's eyebrows shot up. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "Oh."

"Why are you researching seevy for the MLE?"

The question caught Lupin as off-guard as if he had been punched while looking in another direction.

"What? How the hell did you know--"

"Lupin, it's my job to find out information that others want to remain hidden. I wouldn't make a very good spy if I was unable to uncover such information, now, would I?" He curled his lip contemptuously as he spoke. "Though in this case it wasn't that much of a stretch to figure out why both you and Miss Parr spend so much time together."

Lupin twiddled his quill until it became a blur between his fingers. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it," he replied sullenly.

"Ah, I see, the flow of information goes only from me to you, does it?" Snape noted in a tetchy voice. "I do recall the Headmaster saying that we had to work together, odious though it seems."

Lupin chewed his bottom lip and dropped his gaze.

"Don't you trust me?" came the silky inquiry, barely audible under the increasingly heavy rainfall outside the windows.

"Trust has nothing to do with it, Severus," Lupin muttered, scratching one finger down his stubbled cheek absently.

"Actually, it does, Lupin." He stood up. "And until you realise that, we cannot work together." He turned to leave.

"No! Wait!"

Snape stopped on the very edge of the light but didn't turn back to face him.

Lupin sighed heavily. "The MLE wants to use seevy for a number of functions, but they're having trouble convincing them to come back into magical society."

"What kind of functions?" He kept his back to the werewolf to make it clear that he could still leave if he considered Lupin's co-operation wanting.

"The sort of functions the MLE can't perform without breaking the law," Lupin replied reluctantly.

"Murder." It was not a question.

"Yes. Though there are other... less final functions."

Snape turned his head slightly to speak over his shoulder. "The MLE has few enough scruples. They've never stopped at murder before. Why would they do so now?"

"Because the people they wish to dispose of are both greater in number and harder to find than ever before. The MLE's activities can no longer go unnoticed by both public and persecuted."

"They've become sloppy, you mean."

"If you choose to look at it that way, Severus."

Snape finally turned back to face him. "Why would you assist them in such activities?"

"I am the MLE's researcher and analyst, nothing more," said Lupin sternly.

"You are a conspirator to the MLE's immoral and unlawful actions, Lupin, whether you like it or not!"

"And will you see me kicked out of that role, too, Severus?" Lupin asked him sadly. "Can I not even earn a living, pitiful though it is, doing what you have done on so many occasions before?"

Snape's hands balled into fists at his sides. "Arrogant bastard! You have no idea what personal morals I've had to forgo in order to do what others have demanded of me!"

"I didn't make the comparison to accuse you," Lupin pointed out. He sat back in his chair wearily. "You think I want to live my life like this? Itinerant, poor, afflicted with a disease that others have neither empathy nor sympathy for? I do this job because it means I can earn enough to feed myself, that I can work towards some kind of solution for those unfortunate enough to suffer from the same affliction as I, and perhaps make enough of a difference to give us the advantage against those that want to see us all ground down in the dirt!" His voice had grown increasingly loud as he spoke until he was almost shouting. "Is that so great an atrocity in your eyes?" He stood up angrily. "You're not the only person stuck between a rock and a hard place! I'm hated by magicfolk for my lycanthropy, and I'm reviled by lycanthropes for my magical abilities. I do what I do because I have no choice!" He swept a book viciously from the table in a fit of rage. It collided with a nearby shelf and fell to the floor, its pages crumpled awkwardly against the thin carpet. He leant heavily on the table, his head hanging so that his hair hid his face. "I rather foolishly thought you might understand my position, but I guess not." Inhaling deeply, he sat back down and slowly picked up his quill with shaking fingers. "Is there any way that you could find out where Macnair and... Greyback are hiding the lyc-females?" he asked calmly, as if his furious outburst had never occurred.

Snape watched the man's bent form keenly as if half-expecting another display of violent frustration to manifest itself. "Possibly."

"It would be appreciated," was the quiet reply.

"You'd better find Miss Parr's Handler very soon."

Lupin looked up at him, his face so pale it seemed to be tinged with grey. "Why?" He stood once more, this time in anxiety. "What's happened to her?"

"She is dying," Snape replied simply and walked from the light and into the shadows beyond.