Strange Emulsion

Remus twitched, dreaming fitfully as he slept in his clothes. There was a sick hot feeling over him, a kind of tight anxiety that refused to go away even when his mind slipped into unconsciousness. It was a feeling he had had many times before.

****

Once the spell went into effect, only the Secret Keeper would know where James and Lily and their infant were. They would be lost, as good as dead to the rest of their friends and relations, most of whom would forget they had ever existed. The ability to even remember them was a gift Remus did not take lightly.

He slumped in the passenger seat as Sirius drove. The silence between them was far from amicable, but there was really no danger of them fighting. Remus knew there had never really been a question of whether or not he would be allowed to participate in the Fidelus charm--as a werewolf, his mind would not retain the necessary human parameters during his transformations. That window, a few hours a month, would be more than enough for Voldemort to get to the Potters.

Sirius downshifted reluctantly as he steered into a tight curve. The little Saab was handling the road perfectly well, but it wasn't the time to be taking risks. The protection spell around the Potters was not yet complete, hence this last visit for Remus, and it wouldn't do to attract any unnecessary attention by Apparating or even flying to Godric's Hollow.

"Nice car," Remus offered by way of conversation. He was going to be damned if they were going to be silent all the way through Wales.

"I still like the bike better," Sirius said, glancing at him. "I feel cooped up in here."

Remus shrugged. "We could have taken the bike. It's big enough."

Sirius snorted. "That would have looked just a little gay." His mouth twitched when he realized what he'd said. "Sorry."

"It's ok." Strangely enough, compared to the rest of the emotions inside him, it was ok. After all, he thought bitterly, with all the action he hadn't been getting for goodness knew how long, it was easy enough for anyone to forget he even had a sexual orientation. Five years, since the shack incident, and he'd not found a single person he was even remotely willing to consider as a partner. Sirius said he was being too selective, and that simple comment had led to more fights than he cared to think about.

The gravel covering the Potters' drive crunched beneath their feet while the wind rustled the turning leaves of the beech trees lining the yard. The knot of sadness inside Remus only grew as he remembered the ends of other summers, other times walking up the drive to the Potter family home with Sirius, and later Peter and Lily in tow. It had become a tradition to spend a week or so at James' house before heading back to school. Remus tried to banish the growing fear that they would never be all united again. Certainly Peter would not be there--his rows with Sirius had been legendary, of late, and he would be visiting the Potters separately.

Remus turned to Sirius when they stood before the door.

"Ready, old friend?" Sirius asked. Remus trusted himself merely to nod.

Once inside the house, the light and warmth eased the sad feeling of finality he had been nursing the entire trip. Remus looked around as he shut the door. As a precaution, the house had been outfitted with electric lights and other Muggle appliances, to make it look as normal as possible. The result was a surprisingly warm light.

In the living room, Lily was lying on her back on a brightly colored rug, Harry resting on her shins as she brought them forward and back over her bent knees. As Sirius and Remus watched, the picture of confusion, Lily lowered her legs to the floor, eliciting a pout from Harry. Suddenly, keeping them parallel to the floor, she brought them back up, bringing her face to face with her baby, who was giggling and gurgling, flapping his arms with excitement.

"He's flying," she explained, turning her flushed face to the visitors.

"She says it's good for the abs," James added as he turned on another light, rolling his eyes at the two men. "Besides, Harry loves it."

That was apparent, but soon Sirius stepped over to the happy pair. "You're not using my godson for weight training!" he exclaimed as he plucked the child off Lily's legs. Harry shrieked with glee, pointing to Sirius and saying something that sounded remarkably like "woof."

"Are you walking yet, mister?" Sirius asked, touching Harry's feet to the floor. Lily rolled on to her side and sat up, watching them.

"Not really," she supplied, "he still hangs on to things, or else he'll fall. But he never crawled, just hauled himself up on to the furniture." Clinging to his godfather's hands he stomped a foot impatiently. Sirius let go, and a moment later there was a surprised looking Harry sitting at his feet. "He thinks he can walk," Lily pointed out. "I'm not worried. He's only just a year."

In an instant Sirius had transformed himself into the black dog, much to Harry's evident delight. Leaning on Sirius' spine, Harry happily toddled around the room.

Lily brushed herself off and walked to Remus. "How are you?" she asked, her voice quiet under the boisterous nonsense words of her son.

"I'm alright."

She stepped forward and engulfed him in an embrace, and he hugged her back, reveling in her scent that was still unchanged after all the years he'd known her. She held on to him, the only person in his life who could hold on for so long, pressing her face into his shoulder while he leaned his head on hers. For a moment he was grateful for his status as the gay best friend, a practical eunuch as far as her husband was concerned, eminently safe and trustworthy. He'd been the first to notice her pregnancy, commenting loudly one evening that her boobs looked enormous, and when James had been away nights he'd been the one to sleep at Godric's Hollow, occasionally even lying next to her until she fell asleep. One night he wakened to the sharp feeling of Harry kicking him in the back. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and wondered how much of that precious memory would remain to him once the charm was in place. "You?" he asked quietly as she continued to hold him. "How are you holding up?"

She looked up at him, her beautiful face only slightly drawn. "I'm alright," she said, then caught sight of Harry and Sirius rounding the corner of the living room. "Better than alright." She squeezed him tightly before letting go.

**************

He woke with a start, barely recognizing Severus' quarters. Happy memories, he thought to himself, not nightmares. So why do I feel that I can barely go on? He found his hands covering his face before he even remembered. Sirius. He had been here, in the castle, only nights ago, and Remus had been in his wolf form, insensate, powerless to stop him or even know of his presence. He shivered, remembering Sirius walking Harry around the room. Now, it seemed, Sirius was after Harry. But why had he fled after seeing Ron in the bed he must have thought was Harry's? It didn't make any sense, and the sheer terror of it all was only increased by the bizarre circumstances of the attack. He lay in a daze, completely unaware of the time until he heard Severus' footsteps.

"Remus," he said shortly, "what are you doing here?" Remus looked at him with a curious lack of interest as he changed a potion-splattered robe and shirt for fresh ones. Not even the sight of those long fingers undoing the buttons on the even paler shirt piqued his interest.

"Nap. Hard day. Next class not for another few minutes."

"Very few." Snape's voice seemed suspicious, but worried as well. "Do you often sleep in the middle of the day?" he asked. Remus shook his head mutely. Then, it came to him, exactly which class he would be teaching. Third-years, Gryffs and Slyths. He almost moaned in despair. With the thoughts of Harry--and James--still so fresh in his mind, how could he face that living representation of his father? How could he look at Harry and not remember the last night he saw James and Lily alive, not remember how they all sat talking long after Harry had drifted to sleep, held in Remus' arms, his breath baby sweet and warm on the side of his neck? He trembled with anguish at the thought.

"Remus, what is wrong?" Snape was efficient in his words, but not unkind.

"I can't tell you."

Snape sighed and pulled on another shirt. It wasn't that he didn't care deeply for Remus, wasn't that he couldn't see the other man's obvious suffering. It was only that he longed for him simply to be clear on the subject. Otherwise, it was as if he were merely being strung along, manipulated into being a party to the suffering Remus did not want to bear alone. He felt it as a war within himself, the conflicting desires to be kind and to demand that Remus just spit it out. Still, yelling rarely did any good once a person had surpassed the age of reason, which, in Snape's opinion, was approximately eighteen. He gathered his patience, and sat on the edge of the bed. Pressing a hand to the middle of Remus' back, he waited.

Remus heaved a sigh. "I can barely face going to my next class." Severus felt chilled inside. For Remus to not want to teach indicated a serious problem--it seemed the thing he held most dear, a tentative link to his humanity as it was defined in public.

"What do you have?" Severus kept his voice calm as he continued to work down Remus' back.

"Third years. Gryffindor and Slytherin."

Severus snorted, remembering the disastrous mess they'd made of double potions almost a week earlier. "A treat, no doubt," he said. "Yet if anyone can handle them, you can." It was the closest he would come to admitting that Remus' gentle humorous touch was sometimes more effective by half than his own rages.

"I just don't know." Severus held still, waiting for more. "I feel I'm made of lead." He had not seen Remus' face the entire time he'd been in the room--it had been hidden in the bedclothes. He lost his patience for that, at least, and took Remus' slight shoulder in his hand, turning him over.

Snape barely checked himself from sucking in his breath. Remus' face was marked deeply with the lines of depression, a deep cruel strain evident on every one of his features. "Sometimes," he whispered up at Severus, "I feel like this in the morning, but as soon as the day begins I'm fine." Severus passed a hand over his forehead, as if he could smooth away the lines that lurked there. "But now, I can't even imagine going to my class."

Severus glanced at the clock. Remus only had a quarter of an hour before his class was scheduled to begin, and from the state he was in there wasn't much hope of him actually making it.

He thought for a moment of the specific and detailed challenges that particular class brought--damn Dumbledore for pairing them in the first place. While most years Severus paid most of his attention to the upper level classes where one or two potential potions masters might be taking wing, this year he seemed to be spending most of his energy on things related to Harry Potter.

"It's Harry, isn't it?" he asked.

Remus nodded weakly. The man actually looked as though he had the flu. "I can't face him." He shivered. Severus frowned. This was bad--Remus' body was manifesting signs of an actual illness to keep him from the thing that was upsetting him. There were a few mild mood altering potions he was allowed to make, and an entire cupboard stocked with vials and bottles meant for the older Slytherin girls who were wont to react badly to the throes of PMT, but there was nothing he could brew or find that could help Remus without dire consequences and side effects. He felt lost, faced with a problem that could not be touched with a potion. "Not after the other night."

Remus' voice brought him back to the present, and he looked at the other man. "What about it?" He knew that Remus' penchant for being vague was a symptom of his depression and not a ruse simply to annoy him, but it still rankled.

"Sirius was here, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Anger flared in Severus, so strongly he had to keep himself from clutching Remus with what would have been a painful grip. "And what would you have done?" he asked. A phrase from an old play entered his mind then and refused to leave--murder most foul.

"I don't know."

Wrong answer, Remus, Snape thought. "You don't know?" I'm giving you another chance.

"I want to say I would have stopped him would have ripped his throat out, but I just don't know." Harry walking around the living room, holding on to Sirius, Sirius passing Harry to Remus for a final hug before parting, that strange tear, green in the dashboard lights, that had been on Sirius' cheek that night when they drove away.

"What else could you possibly have done?" he demanded, his voice dangerously loud and low. "What else would you even have considered?" He practically held his breath, waiting for his lover to redeem himself.

"I just don't know." Remus seemed to sink into the bed.

"Would you have greeted him?" Snape demanded, "would you have welcomed him here?" He was really yelling now, standing, towering over Remus' slight form.

"Of course not." Remus' voice was small, and not convincing. Why would he have cried that night, why why why why why, if he was the Secret Keeper? Something was wrong. The thoughts kept escaping his mind as soon as he would think them.

Snape leaned close to him, aware with one part of his mind that what he was doing was the opposite of what Remus needed, but still unable to stop himself. "I put my life on the line to save the Potters," he fairly hissed, "and every day I see the results of what essentially was my own failure, their orphan son. You, who were blameless in their death, should rest easy in your innocence--but not if you harbor so much as a thought of kindness for Black." Remus was trying to shrink from him, and in a moment of mercy he stood.

"Not for Black as he is now," Remus said, so quietly it might have been mistaken for a groan of sorts, "for Black as I remember him from before."

Snape rocked back on his heels. "Of course," he said, feeling more charitable. He glanced at the clock. Remus could make it to his class if he tried. "Come on then." He held out his hands to Remus, but the other man still shrank into the bed.

"Maybe I shouldn't even be teaching," he said. "Shouldn't even be near those children. I'm corrupted to the core."

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Remus' self-deprication was as exhausting as it was ridiculous. "How can you say you're corrupted, Remus," he asked, his voice a mixture of kindness and exasperation, "you're one of the purest souls I know."

Remus shook his head. "I'm a werewolf, Severus."

"Oh no, really?" When in doubt, try sarcasm.

Remus' sadness was turning to anger with alarming swiftness. "You think you know, Severus, but you don't really know. I am corrupted." He looked dangerously close to sobbing, a condition Snape wanted to avoid at all costs.

"Remus." Snape's hand on his hair was soothing, but it only angered Remus further.

"Given the choice," he said, his voice dangerous and measured, "I don't know if I would attack Black, or if I would even turn him in." His eyes were turned to Snape, but the loathing in them was clearly directed at himself. "If the wolf was the one making the decisions, there's no telling what I might do for him."

Snape jumped back as if he had been burned. "You're not speaking rightly, Remus," he said, his voice a warning.

"But I am," Remus countered, his eyes blazing. "Don't you see, I should be banned from this place." He stood suddenly, gathering his robes around himself, and started for the door with an unnatural energy that had nothing to do with the broken man who had been lying on the bed.

Snape stood and blocked his path. "This is insane, Remus," he said, "you are not going anywhere in this state."

"And what state is that?" Remus asked, his yellow-hazel eyes gleaming with wolfish energy, his body tensed to spring.

"You're irrational. Lie back down. I'll teach your class for you." The words were harsh, but they came from a welling of kindness that had breached Snape's disgust and impatience.

"I'll tell you what's irrational," Remus snapped at him, "Dumbledore employing a monster like me in the first place. The only rational thing to do would be for him to get rid of me."

"That's not going to happen, Remus," Snape said, steering him to the bed. As he had expected Remus was weak, the emotional drain of the fight having taken its toll. "Go to sleep." The defiant look Remus tossed him was enough to reawaken the angry impatience within him, and he didn't stop himself from saying the words that came into his head. "I'll go face your little bogeyman for you."

Remus leaned his head back into the blessedly cool sheets and thought about that--Harry as his bogeyman. Very apt. Good thing they were done with boggarts for the year. "Maybe it would have been better if none of this had ever happened." It was an idle statement and a dare all at once, daring Severus to take his words in the worst possible way and prove him the monster he felt he was.

It worked. Snape turned on his heel as he opened the door. "Fine. You want me to think you're a monster, I will. What do you want?"

"I should be kicked out. Why don't you just tell them what I am?" The words hung in the air, taking shape, daring Severus to take the easy way and do the very thing Remus had asked him to do.

"Fine idea." Snape bit of the ends of the words as he spoke, then let the door fall shut with a thud.

Alone at last Remus buried his face in the cool sheets and thought don't do it, don't do it, with all the desperate hope he had ever imparted to any prayer.