Break, Then Mend

Break, Then Mend

"And here's mine," she said, beaming with a typical pride whilst simultaneously trying to coax him into stepping forward from his refuge behind her legs. Thumb in mouth, he gazed up at the unfamiliar woman, and, feeling nothing other than a slight curiosity, he let go of his mother's robes entirely, leaving a desperate wrinkle in the fabric. The lady's eyes did seem quite nice.

Suddenly there was movement further down. He reacted, and found himself staring into another pair of eyes, though these were at the same height as his own.

"Well, I see you two have hit it off! Go on," the lady said, nudging the other boy. "Show him your Puffskein, why don't you?"

Seeing his look of reluctance, his mother patted him on his black-haired head. "Oh, come on, it's not like he's dangerous, love."

The two mothers let out a short laugh as if to underline the incredulity of the prospect.

The other boy shrugged and tottered away in the direction of one of the doors. After being pushed in the back, he followed.

"There he is," exclaimed the other boy proudly, pointing at something furry huddled up in a battered chair. "If you're lucky, you'll see his tongue."

They stared at the creature in silence for some time. After having received not an insignificant number of looks expectantly awaiting his judgement, the black-haired boy wandered off to a bookshelf instead. Severus Snape was not in the mood for staring at immovable furballs.

*

It was late at night for knocks on the door, but the urgency of these told Mrs Lupin that it was important. Not that the time really mattered; she would not be able to sleep tonight in any case. The first night of many such.

She opened the door. Discomposed, she let the dishevelled Mrs Snape and little Severus inside. The last thing she saw before they closed the night out again was the pale yellow full moon.

There was no need for lengthy tales about what and why. This was not Mrs Snape's first night-time visit, though knowledge of that fact belonged singularly to the Lupins.

Though already in great distress herself, Mrs Lupin tried to focus on the matter in question. "Again?" she breathed.

Mrs Snape wrapped her robe more tightly around herself, and nodded curtly.

"Come on." Mrs Lupin put a hand on the tall, though not-so-elegant-anymore woman's shoulder. "Cup of tea? I was just thinking of making one."

They sat down in the kitchen, both women nervously fiddling with their fingers, though for entirely different reasons.

That night became very long.

*

"We're thinking of moving."

It was noon, and they were aimlessly wandering along the quirky paths of the village, Severus and Remus trotting a little way ahead of them, in the acceptance that comes with time, and no other boys to play with.

"Oh," Mrs Snape responded flatly, not elaborating, not begging them to stay, though if they really were to move, the last pieces of herself would in all likelihood fall apart from the loss of such society.

"These years have been wonderful for us all. Though a change of scenery is always good." Mrs Lupin smiled nervously. "And Remus can't ... well. That's not important."

"When?" Mrs Snape heard her voice from a place far, far away.

"Early next month. We've already found a house." She stopped walking, and looked earnestly at Mrs Snape.

"I'm sorry."

Mrs Snape merely shook her head, gave a forced smile, and resumed her previous pace.

*

She was allowed to accompany her son to the train. Mr Snape had no interest in seeing him off; he was only happy that he would finally cease to pollute his environs back home, the library in particular. The room in which the inevitable revenge was plotted: slowly, methodically, and, above all, slyly. No one could say that Severus Snape had not picked up a thing or two from his father when it came to being a bastard.

Their parting went by without much sign of affection on either side, though silent wishes for well-being occupied most of both of their minds as Severus embarked upon the train and disappeared from view. Mrs Snape did not join in with the fervent waving of the rest of the parents. She knew her son would not wave back.

When she turned to leave, she spotted her former neighbours in the midst of the throng, wearing alternately worried and happy faces, but did not even try to summon a wish to speak to them again. As far as she was concerned, there were certain things that were better hidden than seen or felt, and those included pity.

*

"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Severus shook his head, and continued looking out of the window, ignoring his newly acquired travelling companion. He barely heard the other boy's quiet movements over the rhythm of the wheels.

"Anything interesting out there?"

Severus turned an annoyed glance at him. "No. Though it is better than in here, I suppose."

"Oh." The boy looked down at his hands for a while, seemingly inspecting his thumb nails. Then, determined to be polite, "Are you a first-year too?"

There came a resigned sigh from the black-haired boy. "Yes."

The other could not help giving a slight smile. "Maybe we'll be in the same house, then. I'm Remus Lupin."

At this, Severus perked his head up, looked the boy up and down. "I see."

"See what?" inquired Remus, just happy to have got a conversation going.

"I'm Severus."

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it.

"Exactly. And how has your life been these past years?"

"I ... I didn't recognise you."

Hiding the fact that he hadn't recognised Remus either, Severus went on. "Scotland, was it?"

"Yes. It was ... roomier."

Severus raised an eyebrow, but let it pass. "And no neighbours either, I guess."

"No. No neighbours." Remus swallowed.

"So you abandoned us in favour of some trees. How nice."

"You don't understand. We--"

"Yes?"

Remus swallowed again, trying to keep calm. "Nothing. I'm sorry."

Severus looked out of the window again. "How much do you remember?"

"What? Oh ... " Remus shifted in his seat. "Not much. Not much at all."

"Good," Severus replied. "Because if I hear that anyone else has got a share of it, I swear I'll get you."

Remus nodded uncomfortably. At least his secret seemed intact still.

"So. Catch-up time. Tell me, how was Scotland?"

*

"Do you mind? Only this is the only free table," Remus muttered.

Severus looked up. "I'm sitting here, aren't I?" Seeing Remus' expression, he sighed. "Fine. If your little friends allow you to be here on your own, that is?"

"I doubt they'd even want to be in the library, so I'm quite safe from their wrath, I assure you." Trying with a joke; trying and failing.

"So," Remus ventured after a stretch of silence, "Nervous about the OWLs?"

Severus fixed a rather unpleasant stare on him. "And why, exactly, should I be?"

Remus looked down at his as-of-yet empty scroll of parchment. "Forget it, Severus. I just - I'll be quiet now," he whispered.

"Yes. That would be advisable," Severus replied with a curl of his lip.

They both caught the other looking up a number of times, before Remus considered his revision done for the night, and left without a word.

*

He felt sick. The words on the page were going this way and that and he thought they'd never find their way back to their place, and him, a Prefect, if he didn't stop it - but then he didn't need to see it; they'd stop soon, wouldn't they? They weren't stupid after all, but he thought he might be ... He heard Evans coming, shouting, and those horrible choking sounds. Not looking up; surely they'd stop now that Evans was there? More laughter, apparently not - were those legs sticking up over the top of his book? Full concentration on Transfiguration now, how to Vanish a pair of ... And there they went.

*

"Severus?"

"No."

"I'm sitting down."

"No."

"Fine. But can I just say--"

"No. You've clearly demonstrated your formidable ability to shut your mouth at certain former occasions, and I wouldn't dream of making you open it now."

"It wasn't ... I couldn't think straight, I ..."

"Obviously, you've still got problems in that department."

"Can't we, um, stop ..."

"You stop. Stop trying, Lupin."

"I don't underst--"

"Get out of here. Go back to them."

"Can I just say that--"

"Merlin's balls! Go away!"

A pause, some rage and a deal of disappointment.

"Fine. As you wish."

*

He felt sick. His heartbeat hadn't slowed properly even several hours later, and his breath came out ragged and audible in the office. Sitting on the right, unsure of who he wanted to be farthest away from; why had he thought taking advice from Black had been a good idea in the first place?

"I'm truly sorry, Headmaster. It was a completely unacceptable thing to do, I realise that now."

"You can be very glad Mr Potter did what he did, Mr Black."

"Only did what was right, Headmaster; only did what the situation demanded of me."

"Very well. You may all go but Mr Snape. Though I do think someone owes someone a couple of words?"

He'd never hated those damn eyes as he did then. Resting on him, making demands, the indulgence from when he'd been looking at the others still lingering.

Teeth clenched, eyes fiercely looking in another direction. "Thank you, Potter."

*

"I refuse to have this conversation."

"You seem to refuse all conversations, Severus."

"I see no need to speak to you." He turned around to stir the cauldron again.

"And if I need to speak to you?"

There was silence, not the worst answer.

"Even if you won't accept it, I'll apologise. I didn't want all those things to happen. I just couldn't stop them," Remus said tersely, fingering a stray thread on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Severus."

He tightened his grip on his workbench. "You're expecting mere words to cover up for that? Clearly all Gryffindors aren't as brave as they like to think after all, when they can't even stand up to their so-called friends."

"I hope you believe me when I say I'm ashamed of myself."

"How very convenient that none of your friends remain to hear this insightful admission."

"I've never pretended to be perfect, Severus. I was scared of a lot back then." Remus tried edging around the bench, closer, face to face. "That's not to say friendships can never be repaired. If you--" He stopped dead. Severus had flung a ladle into the stone wall, and now stood before him, fury seething out of every pore.

"This is your Wolfsbane I am making here, Lupin! One more word, and I'll have you stay like that beast for the rest of your cursed life!" He remained rigid, nostrils flaring, until Remus left. Remus always left.

*

"Sugar, Severus?"

"No. As it has been the last twelve years, might I add."

"It wouldn't hurt you."

"I don't like it."

"So we have gathered." Albus Dumbledore sighed a little, then leaned back in his squashy chair, teacup balancing on its plate, and a spoon tinkling as it stirred the tea by itself. "I've spoken to Remus."

"So that's what this is all about." Severus did not let his posture slump, not for a minute. At least he had control of something.

"I'd say mostly this is about you, actually." Dumbledore's eyes had changed but little.

"Listen here. It was him who was such a coward he couldn't bear the thought of losing his precious friends, but who had to suffer the consequences?" he snarled. "In a way, he's the biggest sinner of them all. And when held up in comparison to Black, that's a burden indeed."

Albus regarded him sadly over his brittle cup. "Excuse an old man's habits if you must, Severus. But I find I have a tendency to forgive people once in a while, something I'm sure you of all people should know. Could you not try and do the same just once?"

"Give me one good reason." Tea still untouched; didn't really trust his hands to hold the cup without trembling.

"You are not the only one who has suffered, Severus. Remus Lupin has expressed a wish to be civil with you, if only to bury the hatchet once and for all." Albus took a sip, wrinkling his crooked nose in response to the warmth. "He is your colleague, and it is in everybody's interest that you should get along at least tolerably together."

"And yours, obviously."

"And mine. But then of course, I'd never ask you to do something solely for my benefit, Severus. I am confident that when you do something, you do it for yourself alone, and this might just be another opportunity." There was the faint glimmer of a beam behind the old man's sternness.

"Albus!"

"Think about it. That much I think I can demand. Now, have you tried these chocolate mints before?"

*

"Good morning, Severus."

An irritable jerk of his head, reaching out for some toast and butter; coffee, no tea, for heaven's sake, no tea; and the Great Hall seemed to be emptying slowly now.

"I don't know what you've been saying to the Headmaster," he muttered vaguely to his left. "But I can assure you, I will not have to deal with you any more than necessary. You live in a very disillusioned bubble indeed if you think I am ready to dismiss all of my principles just because you think you've said the magic words. We had a friendship of convenience. When we were five. That's all there was to it," Severus hissed.

"Then drop all this hostility, at least. Please."

Toast halfway to his mouth, Severus froze. "You are not someone to be trusted, least of all by me. I only treat people the way they deserve."

"Hasn't it ever crossed your mind that other people might be doing that to you as well?"

Turning slowly now, eyes leaking with loathing, "Except Saint Lupin, I presume?" he asked softly.

Remus slowly shook his head. "Not anymore, if that's the way you want it."

"I'm looking forward to seeing what you'll be coming up with. As should you be looking forward to my contributions, Lupin. As should you be."

*

Afterwards, when all the explanations and goodbyes were done with, and he was well seated in the carriage, his feelings started disappearing. He'd never been one for grudges, old wounds and hurt pride; never one to want revenge. Remus had plenty of work tackling his own person even when he didn't have to worry about keeping scores for others as well. Forgiveness came easily. Or was it that he was able to forget quickly?

Staying annoyed with James and Sirius had been one of the few things he couldn't do, and now he hadn't succeeded at staying angry with Severus either. He supposed it was life. Things he couldn't change he was experienced with, after all.

Things came as they did. He might as well meet them in an acceptable mood.

*

Seeing it happen was nothing compared to what came after. Remus registered it, even acknowledged out loud that there was nothing to do, and that, perhaps, was the worst. He always tried to mend wherever possible, always liked to know that with effort things could change.

People always left.

A silent acceptance was what he had always applied in the past. Now too. Reading became more difficult with every sentence, he was constantly tired, but never enough so to fall asleep, and the air in Grimmauld Place felt like a blanket excruciatingly, slowly suffocating him. Mostly he prowled the empty rooms, never ceasing his walk, never thinking, and after years and years only three days had passed. Three days, and no end in sight.

*

He found him in the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, he looked at the man huddled over the table, chin in hands, barely moving to breathe, and seemingly crumbling by the second. He was not sure he had come unnoticed, but seeing the lack of reaction he doubted Remus even knew where he had sat down.

Inching nearer, without a sound, then down; down onto the chair beside him, hands in lap. There was movement now, Remus's hands flopped down on the table, and a pale face followed the ghostly eyes that carefully turned his way.

No, he was not the only one who had suffered.

He turned fully then, took in the grey hairs and tired lines; their eyes never leaving each other, Severus lowered his head in a nod, ever so slowly and careful, as if it finally was weighed down.

- The end