I Dream Of Remus

CHAPTER I: BEHIND THE BROOMSHED


Severus Snape fought the impulse to sneeze.

This was easier for him than for most, since Severus was used to fighting his natural impulses. Especially the counter-productive ones, such as his need to be liked by his roommates: for, after all, wasn't it far better to inspire their fear and respect? Then there was his ridiculous wish to spend pleasant sunny days outside, when those were the very days when the Potions dungeon was invitingly empty. Or even that bizarre longing for a bottle of fancy herbal shampoo that had seized him on his last visit to Hogsmeade. (Fortunately, he'd managed to get hold of himself, and buy a copy of Most Potente Potions instead.)

After all that, repressing a mere sneeze was child's play. It was necessary, too. If he gave in and sneezed, he would be discovered by the very people he was spying on; and then he would be known as an incompetent stalker, which would never do.

So, Severus merely pinched his nostrils shut, and turned a disdainful (and watery) eye on the cause of his little problem: the dust.

There was plenty of it about. Only one beam of light pierced the gloom of this forgotten section of the library, but even that single beam was full of glittering particles, dancing cheerfully through the musty air. Where it all came from was no mystery: the books on the shelf before him were were very old and very dry, and so utterly useless that no-one ever bothered to clean them. Or even to inquire whether they might be a fire hazard. He glanced along the shelves. The Compleat Dream Dictionary accounted for many of the boringly grey volumes, but he could see the pale Manual Of Lucid Dreaming off to the right, and, a little higher, the garish purple cover of Prophetic Dreams: The Laid-Back Seer's Guide To The Future.

A sudden rustle from the other side of the bookcase reminded him that he wasn't there to browse through texts aimed at those with a lazy Inner Eye. So, stretching up on his toes, Severus applied his eye to the small gap on the right of Dream Dictionary, Volume XXVI: Chimpanzees - Cigars, and peered through.

The scene hadn't changed all that much since his little Sneezing Problem had drawn him away. The table on the other side was still covered with books and bits of parchment; and, if he squinted and moved his head about a bit, he could still catch occasional glimpses of the three boys who bent their heads over it, scribbling furiously. Even the heads were the same as before: two dark, and one blonde. There was no nondescript brown head in sight.

Severus felt an unreasonable twinge of disappointment, and was forced to remind himself that he wasn't there to stalk Remus Lupin, but to spy on the Gryffindor ringleaders. This was a worthy goal: over the last few weeks, he'd discovered plenty of minor secrets. For example, he had learnt enough to connect the theft of Madame Pince's laundry to the enormous pink bra Malfoy had been sent for his birthday. He knew what insipid tune Potter and Evans referred to as "their song." He even understood why the Slytherin table wobbled so alarmingly on Tuesdays, and how Madame Pomfrey had been fooled into believing that an epidemic of leprosy was raging through Hogwarts.

In all, however, his task had been far from easy. There had been times when those damn Gryffindors had seemed to disappear into thin air. There had been times when they had seemed to turn into a large pack of wild dogs (although Severus knew now that those "wild dogs" were simply Hagrid's new puppy, plus some hideous black stray the puppy had befriended last week.) And there had been times when all those endless cheerful Gryffindor conversations had driven Severus nearly insane. He particularly despised the inane chatter of that muscular idiot Sirius Black, with his undeserved gift for making Remus laugh. And Black had seemed extra attentive recently, tagging along with his friend morning, noon, and night.

Watching those two together gave Severus goose-pimples.

In a bad way, of course.

At least they weren't together right now. Severus pressed his left cheek against the bookcase, and stared at Sirius Black with the intensity of a man inspecting a dubious Potions ingredient.

From this position, most of Sirius Black was clearly visible. Severus watched as Sirius leaned back in his chair, his work done -- or, at least, abandoned -- and looked to his friends for amusement. The disappointed expression on his face suggested that both were still intent on their scribbling. So, rolling his eyes, Sirius gave up on them, and turned to his chewed-up quill. First, he examined it closely, and twirled it between his fingers a few times. Then, he tried balancing it on his nose. This kept him happy for about three seconds. When it finally fell, he snatched it out of the air and laid it along his upper lip, using a finger to keep it in place.

"Jabes!" he called. "Jabes, do you think I should grow a boustache?"

"Sure, Sirius, " James muttered distractedly, somewhere off to the left. "Anything that covers part of your face can only help."

"Oh, is that why you wear glasses, then?" Sirius retorted quickly, but without the rancor he reserved for his actual enemies. He tossed the quill away and leaned towards his friend, disappearing from Severus' narrow field of view.

"You know, James, there's only two Z's in 'Zenoby the Bizarre'," his voice pointed out helpfully.

"Do you mind?" James' hand shoved him back into his chair. "Why are you so fidgety, anyway?"

"The sun will be setting soon," Sirius replied meaningfully, "and the moon will be rising." He emphasized his vacuous statement by waving his hand vaguely to the left; to the West, Severus supposed.

"Yes," Peter joined the conversation, "we know."

"Of course we do," James agreed. "Really, Sirius," his voice continued, in very superior tones, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were nervous about tonight's big adventure."

Sirius sat up at that, and turned towards James in indignation. "I am not nervous," he scoffed. "I just don't want to keep Remus waiting, is all."

"Since when have you been so considerate?" James wanted to know. "I know you're eager to play your doggy games with him, but this is ridiculous."

Behind the bookshelf, Severus felt his head spin at James' words. Knowing that Black was meeting Remus somewhere was bad enough, but 'doggy games'? He tried not to think about it too much, but his imagination betrayed him, sending up several vivid scenes.

"What was that?" he heard Peter exclaim, and the scenes, thankfully, dissolved.

"An attempt at a joke, I think, Peter," Sirius explained helpfully. "James tries hard."

"No, I meant the noise," Peter explained. "I heard a sort of thud, from behind all those shelves."

Severus ducked down as Sirius turned to stare directly at his hiding place. This gave him an opportunity to look down at the ground, and notice the pile of books he'd knocked over in his agitation. He cursed his disobedient, flailing foot. Not only was he risking discovery, but he'd managed to distract the Gryffindors away from their most interesting topic.

"Was it a mouse, perhaps?" Sirius' voice carried thought the bookshelf.

"Mice don't thud," Peter sounded quite adamant.

"You're the expert," James replied. "Perhaps it was Sirius' nervous, thudding heart."

"James, I know it's difficult for you, but do try to be logical," Sirius suggested. "Why would I be nervous? Tonight's little moonlit escapade is nothing new for me."

"He's right, James!" Peter announced, after a moment's consideration. "Still," he continued, "I think Remus is a bit worried. At least about going behind the shed. It's so close to the school."

The shed? Severus held his breath. Black was meeting Remus behind the BROOMSHED? That was... unfair. Remus, in his innocence, would surely miss the implications. The broomshed! It wasn't even as if Sirius could be trusted to act like a gentleman. How could Potter and Pettigrew be fine with that?

Perhaps... perhaps they were all making this up just to taunt him? Oh, if he could only get a clear view of all their faces...

Severus just had to enlarge his field of view.

Moving with care, he took hold of a book -- Volume XXVI -- and pulled gently. It wouldn't move. He tugged harder, but this didn't work either, so, gnashing his teeth with impatience, he braced one foot against the shelf and really applied himself to the task of pulling. Something did move, then. Actually, the whole row of Volumes shifted toward him slightly. Had they been glued together by some mysterious chemical process? Severus eyed them suspiciously, and considered abandoning his task.

"...even Remus agrees it'll be fun..."

The casual words drifted across the gap, and he felt strength flow into his shoulders. He yanked at the book in his hand -- and it came out, at last. Then, gazing up in triumph, he saw its brothers lean out towards him, and the air was suddenly full of grey covers, greying pages, and swirling dust as thick as Christmas snow. Something hit his left cheek; then his right ear; then several parts at once. Severus stumbled, and tried to draw his wand: but, then, something purple hit him on the nose, and the world enfolded him, like the closing pages of a very heavy encyclopedia.



"Snape? Snape? Are you dead, Snape?"

Severus winced. Someone was slapping his cheek, and he couldn't decide what was more jarring: the sharp stings of pain, or that annoying voice.

"Go away, Avery," he mumbled.

"He's coming to!" a second voice rumbled. "You can stop slapping him, now."

"Oh, it's no trouble," Avery asserted, slapping away.

Severus' mind felt dull enough to get sorted into Hufflepuff, and so it took him a few seconds to mentally locate his left hand and raise it up to his face, shielding his cheek from further abuse. This accomplished, he opened his eyes.

He saw bookshelves. Layers of bookshelves, weaving together, and then apart, in an intricate dance. He couldn't see them all that clearly: there was something dark and fuzzy right in front... Severus blinked, and the fuzziness resolved itself into two robed figures. Avery, obviously, and also a largeish shape vaguely reminiscent of Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Rumble. That was odd. He didn't think he'd ever seen either Avery or Rumble in a library before. "Where... what's going on?" he asked.

"I think you've got a concussion," Rumble informed him. "Some books fell on you. Dangerous things, books..."

"Potter came looking for us and told us where you were," Avery jumped in. "It was dead suspicious. I deduce that he must have cast some kind of Book Avalanche curse on you. Am I right?"

"I'm not sure." Noticing that the bookshelves had stopped dancing, Severus decided to sit up. The room swayed a little as he did so, but, really, it was no worse than being in a boat out on the Lake. Pleased with his efforts, he lowered his lids, and tried to recall if his roommate's deductions were, for once, correct.

His eyes snapped wide open before Avery could even think of slapping him again. "The broomshed!" he gasped.

"No, not the broomshed" Rumble said brightly, as if speaking to a backward child. "We're in the library! Avery," he added, out of the corner of his mouth, "I think your roommate's hallucinating."

"Dreaming, more like," Avery replied. "He likes it out by the broomshed -- I think it's where he got his first shag..."

"Really?" Rumble asked, giving Severus a man-of-the world wink. "Me too!"

"Yes, you, and half of the school's more open-minded population," Severus muttered, wincing at the possible implications of this thought. "Now, please help me stand up. I have to get to the broomshed. Sirius Black is going there, and..."

"Sirius Black, hmm?" Rumble considered this. "He's not too bad -- if you go in for Gryffindor men..."

"Oh, come on," Avery let out a high-pitched giggle. "If I know one thing, it's that Severus Snape would never get it on with Sirius Black!"

"Ah, right, of course I wouldn't," Severus agreed quickly. "It's just that I heard Black say that... er," he continued, thinking fast, "he and his friends are planning to steal some brooms there, tonight."

Rumble laughed, a sound traumatizingly reminiscent of the clatter of a ton of falling books. "On the night of the full moon? Not bloody likely! There's bound to be people out there, tonight. This is just your concussion speaking," he announced, grabbing Severus firmly by the elbow. "Come on, we'll walk you to the Hospital Wing."

"Leave me alone," Severus snapped, feebly attempting to free his elbow. "Can't you see I'm fine? You've got concussion on the brain!"

"Damn right I do," Rumble acknowledged cheerfully. "That's how I know what I'm talking about. Oh, yes, this head has stopped many a Bludger, in its time," he explained, boxing his own ear. "But don't worry," he said with a smile, "Madame P. will fix you right up."

"But..." Severus protested, even as Avery's hands clamped down on his other elbow. And, before he could think of a convincing argument, his two unwelcome helpers were propelling him firmly towards the library door. Well, this was a step in the right direction, at least. He would play along, he decided, and make a break for it at a more convenient time.

He gave each of the other two boys a grateful smile. Avery responded with a suspicious glare. Rumble smiled back, and started chatting amicably.

"Ah, the broomshed, though," he shook his head with a sigh. "What a place... I often go down there after Quidditch practice, you know. Just last week, I met that blonde Ravenclaw Chaser there. Now, that guy really knows how to ride a broom, if you know what I mean..."

Severus nodded vaguely, and listened to this monologue, feeling increasingly nauseated. He had seem the area behind the broomshed often enough, and he could just picture it now: Sirius Black, and his leering suggestions, and Remus, wide-eyed eyed with incomprehension...

Forget goose-bumps; it gave him the shivers.

What he would have given, just a fortnight ago, to be in Black's place! He was completely over Remus Lupin now, of course, but still he resented Black this opportunity. For who knew what that over-muscled git, with all his cheap charm, might be able to accomplish? Severus thought of 'doggy games' and broom rides, and shuddered, his stomach lurching. He tried to focus on his surroundings, instead, but the corridor he now walked in was very twisty: the walls seemed to be twisting before his very eyes. It made his head spin, in time with his stomach. Round and round it went, like a self-stirring cauldron, thoughts of Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, and broomsheds and broom-rides mixing together like obscure Potions ingredients.

Severus let himself get stirred in, and felt his body fall.



He struggled with his weakness, and tried to drag himself out into reality. Occasionally, a fragment would reach him: a few slaps, the crisp sheets of an Infirmary bed, Madame Pomfrey's calm-but-concerned voice discussing sleeping draughts. At one point, he dimly realized that he was drinking something. It must have been the Remus/Sirius potion, for, when he next opened his eyes, he saw the back of the broomshed, right there before him, as if in a photograph.

Severus studied the picture. He knew what was coming, and so felt no sense of shock when a breeze stirred the grass, and Remus Lupin stepped into view.

"So," he announced, looking over his shoulder, "we're behind the broomshed now. What a lovely spot," he commented, folding his arms and eyeing the peeling paint.

"Hey, don't knock this place," Sirius Black replied, joining him. "I've had some great times out here," he sighed, and looked down at the trampled grass.

"Really?" Remus leaned back against the shed wall. "Well, since you're the expert, what do you suggest we do?"

"Well, seeing what kind of place this is," Sirius announced, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "I thought that you might be interested in an, ER, broom ride."

Remus frowned. "I'm not sure about this, Sirius," he replied. "You know I don't normally do that sort of thing."

"Well, you should," Sirius grinned, and leaned into the wall, planting his elbow by his friend's shoulder. "It's really fun."

"I'm not very experienced, you know..." Remus shrugged, his shoulders flaking the weather-worn paint.

"It's pretty easy." Sirius moved in closer, eyes smiling down at Remus through untidy black hair.

"And, anyway," Remus continued, "my broom isn't up to much."

"Let me have a look at it," Sirius offered, holding out his free hand so that it hovered somewhat close to the other boy's waist. "I'm good with brooms."

In answer, Remus peeled himself away from the wall and stepped under Sirius' arm, weaving around the side of the shed. He was back a few seconds later, carrying his worn Swooper-Sweeper.

Sirius took the broom from his outstretched hand and gave it a casual glance. "Phew, you're right," he announced, returning it. "We'd better forget about using this old thing. Perhaps," he suggested slyly, his eyebrows working overtime, "you should consider riding MY broom."

"Oh, I couldn't do that: what would YOU do?" Remus asked.

"Don't worry about me," Sirius laughed, "I'll think of something."

"Of course," Remus mused, "I could ride James'. I hear it's better, anyway."

"What do you mean, James' broom is better?" Sirius asked sharply.

"He says it's got a greater range," Remus explained.

"Hah!" Sirius exclaimed. "As if anyone cared about that! Mine's far more maneuverable in a tight spot," he announced triumphantly.

Remus just gave him a very, very blank look.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Sirius sighed. "Oh, never mind the brooms, then. Perhaps we could just sit down here and, ER, chat." Without waiting for a reply, he sank down, his back against the wall, and smiled up at his friend.

Remus stepped over his outstretched legs to place his broom against a tree, and then returned and sat down at his left. "Well?" he asked, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"ER" Sirius gave him a long, sidelong glance. "Hey, you've got some paint in your hair," he announced, and moved closer, his hand reaching towards his friend's face.

"Where?" Remus asked, running his hands all over his head. "Is it gone now?"

"I suppose so," Sirius shrugged, and moved his hand back to tug at his scarf. "Warm evening, isn't it?" he asked suddenly. "Perhaps we should get rid of some of these clothes..."

"Do you really find it so warm?" Remus frowned, watching his friend pull off his scarf. "I was just thinking about how chilly it was."

"Oh, you're right!" Sirius nodded furiously. "In fact, I'm freezing," he confessed. With great speed, he rewrapped the scarf tighter and moved right up to Remus. "Brr," he shivered, slipping one arm around the other boy's back.

Remus' didn't seem to notice: he had turned his attention to his messy hair, and was now trying to smooth it down.

"I've got a comb," Sirius suggested. "It's in my pocket, if you'd like to reach for it." With his free arm, he gestured toward his left trouser pocket, wedged tight against his friend's hip.

"A comb? Really?" Remus looked down for a few seconds. "And here I was thinking that you were just happy to see me."

"Huh?" Sirius glared at him, quickly heaping robes all over his lap. "What are... you never say stuff like that!" he sputtered.

"I'm learning fast," Remus replied brightly, wrapping his hands around his knees. "You have to admit it was rather in line with all your sexy broom ride innuendoes."

"No it wasn't! The very implication! As if I would ever try to trick you like that, like I was some cheap pervert!" Sirius exclaimed. "Wait a moment," he paused, eyes widening. "You followed my broom ride lines?"

"Oh, yes. They were hilarious!" Remus buried his face in his knees, and laughed.

Sirius stared, mouth hanging open. "Fine, laugh at me," he said at last. "See if I care." He started to pull away, his arm sliding across his friend's shaking shoulders.

At that, Remus sat up quickly, twisting to catch hold of Sirius' retreating hand. "Don't go," he pleaded.

Sirius stopped and turned to him. "You don't want me to move?" he asked.

"No," Remus shook his head solemnly. "After all," he continued, his eyes very wide, "it's so cold, we might both die of exposure..."

Sirius growled, and tugged at his captive arm. "Let me go," he ordered. "Let me go, or I'll have to chew my own arm off."

But Remus held on. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll stop now. Please... please don't go, Sirius," he repeated.

Sirius glanced at him again, and saw neither suppressed laughter nor mock innocence. "Fine," he said slowly, and sat back down.

Remus smiled as his friend's arm returned to its natural position around his shoulders. "Now," he said, "I believe we were talking about broom rides..."



Severus woke suddenly, to find himself in an infirmary bed. His head hurt, he was damp with sweat, and cold, and all tangled up in strange sheets -- but at least the dream was over. That horrible, lying dream. It had to be a lie, because surely Remus had enough sense not to be won over by such cheap buffoonery. No, assuredly, a deep, intellectual engagement would be the way to his heart.

Wouldn't it?

Severus looked up at a nearby window, and saw the soft grey light that signaled dawn.

It was too late to put a stop to things, anyway.