A Reflection of Himself

A black veil, faint voices on the other side, Bellatrix's screeching laughter, a handsome man's body falling for what seemed like forever... and...

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, awakening himself from his nightmare that was all too real and fresh in his memory.

Harry jolted up in bed, beads of sweat across his forehead, and his eyes wide open. Everything was blurry, so he immediately fumbled around in the dark, searching for his glasses. Once he found them, he heard a popping sound and saw a figure of a man standing in his bedroom. The light from the nearly full moon shone through the lone window, illuminating the man's rugged yet gentle features.

"Remus?" Harry asked, not sure his eyes were telling him the truth.

Lupin smiled weakly at Harry and walked over to the young wizard. "Yes, Harry, it's me."

Harry trembled and felt like he was about to lose control of himself and start crying upon seeing Lupin standing there. After Sirius, the werewolf was the next closest person he had to a father figure in his life, and Harry simply couldn't bear the thought of losing him, too. It seemed like so many people Harry loved had died already, so like a small boy, he wrapped his arms desperately around Lupin's body, burying his head into Lupin's loose, dirty robes as he wept. His fingers clung on to Lupin for dear life, afraid to let go, lest he suddenly lose Lupin as well.

Lupin gently patted Harry on the back and tousled the boy's already slept-on, messy hair. He tried to stay strong for Harry, for it was all he could do to prevent himself from breaking down as well. They hadn't really had any time together to cope with Sirius's death since that tragic day a couple of weeks ago, and once Harry was back at the Dursleys, he began to wonder if any of his friends would be there to talk to him. As the days passed and no one came, Harry grew depressed, thinking that everyone else had simply moved on and kept living their lives. He bitterly dismissed them, and although it was selfish to wallow in his own self-pity, he was too upset to care anymore.

Finally, after he cried himself empty, Harry looked at Lupin with blood-shot eyes that burned with the aftermath of tears. "I'm sorry," Harry said very softly. "I didn't mean to cry at you like that. It's just that-"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Harry," Lupin replied gently. "I understand."

Harry nodded as he began to release his grip on Lupin, and they both eased back until they were facing each other. Harry was now almost as tall as Lupin, which wasn't actually saying much, since Sirius had been much taller than Lupin. Harry was suddenly finding himself at a loss for words, so he simply asked, "What made you stop by to see me?"

"Well," Lupin began hesitantly, "I realize it's been two weeks since... since that night, and I- I just had to cope with things on my own before I could deal with seeing anyone else. Tonight was the first night I had seen anyone since Hogwarts let out."

"Was it an Order meeting?" Harry questioned.

"Yes," Lupin said. He acted like he was going to say more, but then he was silent.

Lupin found a wooden chair by the desk that was heaped full of Dudley's old, broken toys and gadgets from over the years and sat down, sighing. He rubbed his temples with exhaustion and closed his eyes. The lines on his rather young face stood out in stark contrast against the moonlight that was shining on his features, making him appear older than he actually was. Lupin ran a hand aimlessly through his longish, wavy, light brown hair and sighed again.

"What is it?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'm just worn out," Lupin half-lied. "The moon is nearly full, so I probably shouldn't stay for long."

Harry examined Lupin quizzically and stook his head. "No, there's more to it than that... Was Snape there? At the meeting?"

"Yes," Lupin admitted reluctantly.

By the look on Lupin's pale face, Harry knew something had transgressed between the two men, and knowing Snape like he did, Harry jumped to the conclusion that Snape had given Lupin a hard time.

"What did that greasy git do, exactly?" asked Harry suspiciously. "He didn't give you any more grief than you're already having, did he? Why, if he were here this very moment, I'd tell him a thing or two..."

"Harry, Harry," Lupin replied, shaking his head ruefully, "it's not that simple. Yes, he and I, well, we had a talk, but it's not what you think."

"Really?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Well, I find that quite hard to believe, especially since he acted no differently toward me after... after that night."

"Everyone has their own way of dealing with loss, Harry," Lupin said matter-of-factly. "Some people just don't care to show emotion like others, and in a situation as complicated as this-"

"Don't make excuses!" Harry yelled, throwing his arms up into the air.

"Shhh, won't someone hear you?"

"I don't care anymore," Harry lied, crossing his arms like a pouty child.

"You and I both know that's not true, Harry," Lupin replied gently as he looked intently at Harry. He paused and then continued, "Look, I didn't come here to discuss Sev- Professor Snape. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Harry sighed sadly and felt guilty for exploding at Lupin just moments ago, and he listened for any sounds coming from outside his bedroom door, hoping he had not awakened his relatives. The last thing he needed was his uncle Vernon barging into his room in the middle of the night with his purple face twisted in anger, threatening Harry with his fists. When he didn't hear anything, Harry decided it best to keep his voice low, but it broke as he began to speak.

"How... how I'm doing? Remus, I just don't know what the point is anymore... I mean, how many more people do I have to see die before I can defeat him... if I even can defeat him..." his solitary voice drifted off into the shadows.

"You will defeat him," Lupin stressed. "You've got to believe that, Harry. Everyone is counting on you."

"See," Harry interjected, "that's the thing: Everyone looks to me to save them. D'you think I ever asked for this? Why me, Remus? Why not Dumbledore if he's so powerful or my father if he was all he was cracked up to be... or hell, why not even bloody Snape? What I'd give just to be like all the other boys my age."

Lupin sighed deeply and gazed squarely into Harry's green eyes. "Harry," he said firmly, "we don't always ask for what we're given, but we've got to do the best with what we do have. You think I asked to be cursed with Lycanthropy for the rest of my life? Because of it, Harry, I've been scorned by many wizards my whole life, but your father, Sirius, Dumbledore... they all looked beyond my condition and saw me as a person, nothing more or less. Harry, when I look at you, I see you for who you are: Harry, nothing more or less. Don't become so wrapped up with your own troubles that you forget what's important. We've all got our demons, Harry, but what we do with them is what matters. Don't take anyone at face value if you can help it."

Harry stared at Lupin as he spoke, and Harry listened to every word, thinking how much Lupin sounded like Dumbledore, only his words were much more frank and didn't seem elevated with age-old wisdom. Harry took in those words and digested them, allowing them to cycle around in his mind, until he was able to make a coherent response.

"I know you're right, Remus," he admitted. "I guess I've just been so wrapped up in my own problems and feelings that I haven't been thinking clearly. I have to admit that I'm rather scared about what these few couple of years will bring, but I just hope I don't lose you, too."

That said, Harry stepped toward the werewolf and hugged him like a son hugs his father. Lupin brought his own arms around Harry's slightly smaller form, both of them feeling like they weren't alone in the cold world for once.

The embrace ended, and Lupin said tiredly, "I really ought to get going. You and I both need our sleep. I'll see you again soon, Harry."

"Good night, Remus... and thank you."

Lupin flashed a quick smile as he disapparated, leaving Harry alone in the room. Harry returned to his bed and pulled the covers up, removed his glasses, and closed his eyes. Maybe his nightmares would leave him in peace for tonight.

Chapter Four

Severus Snape apparated to the gates of Hogwarts in the late night, relieved to be back to the place he had come to call home. The wind blew lightly, playing with his long hair as he began to make his way toward the castle. The towers loomed high in the distance, displaying a rather imposing figure of a building against the night sky. Small ripples danced across the lake, and the leaves gently rustled in the mild breeze. It was a beautiful night, but unlike most nights when he stayed up to all odd hours of the early morning, Snape was quite worn out this night. Trudging up the main stairway, he thought of how welcoming that pillow hitting his weary head would feel. He opened the door and entered, only to be greeted by a lone figure standing in the dim candlelight.

"Albus," Snape said softly, "what are you doing awake at this hour?"

Snape approached the Headmaster with a curious look on his face as the old wizard replied, smiling, "Good evening, Severus. I could ask the same of you."

"It is hardly evening, Headmaster," Snape scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance at Dumbledore's avoidance of the question.

"Ah, true enough, I suppose," mused Dumbledore. "I was actually waiting up for you. Do you have a moment?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

Dumbledore only chuckled softly and began to walk toward the entrance to his private chambers. Snape followed without question as Dumbledore gave the appropriate password to the gargoyle. The hidden door opened to reveal a staircase that moved upward, spiraling several times, as the two men stood upon it. Once they were at the top, Dumbledore held the door open politely and allowed Snape to enter first. Snape was beginning to lose his patience at the old wizard's relentless benevolence, so he leaned against the mantle of the fireplace with his arms crossed over his chest.

Dumbledore seemed to be in no hurry as he sat down and conjured up a teapot and two cups. The whole scene was rather old and tiresome to Snape, for he had had the oh-so-delightful experience of having tea with the Headmaster as they sat in the same two leather-backed chairs by the fireplace. The conversations were not always the same, but the atmosphere rarely changed. Usually, though, it was predictable that Dumbledore would muse and speak in euphemisms, while Snape would utter a single syllable response here and there or just grunt when he didn't feel like even talking.

Dumbledore glanced over at Snape's stiff form by the fireplace and said, trying to contain his laughter, "Oh, Severus, do sit down." He gestured at the other chair.

Snape sighed exasperately and moved to the said chair in a huff. Once seated, he made no motion to accept the cup of tea, but rather, he kept his arms crossed in what was supposed to be a menacing position. It would have worked around anyone else, but Dumbledore wasn't fazed.

The Headmaster sipped his tea slowly, placed it down, picked it up again, and took another sip. By this point, Snape had had enough waiting as Dumbledore got his jollies out of what Snape considered a type of cruel and unusual punishment directed specially toward him.

"What," snapped Snape, "do you want, already, Albus? I haven't got all night."

"I thought you would never ask," mused Dumbledore innocently.

"Don't play coy with me, old man," Snape replied irascibly. "I'm in no mood for games."

"Fine, fine, have it your way, then, Severus. Now, I'll get to the point. I couldn't help but to notice that you have returned much later after the meeting adjourned, and I also noticed that Remus and you were the last two in the house as I left."

"And your point would be?"

"Well, did the two of you talk?"

"And what would I have to share with a werewolf?" Snape spat. "Please, Albus, spare me your intuitive remarks."

"If you would rather not talk about it, that is fine, too, you know." Dumbledore gave Snape one of his pricelessly annoying winks.

"Good night, Albus," Snape said tersely, standing up and walking very quickly toward the door.

Dumbledore watched as Snape left the room and smiled at Fawkes, his pet phoenix, saying, "Sometimes he really surprises me."

Dumbledore yawned and decided it was well past his usual bedtime, although he couldn't help but to wonder if, in spite of his obvious moodiness due to being exhausted, Snape would actually head straight to bed. The Potions Master had a rather unfortunate habit, both for his own physical well-being and for any students, especially Gryffindors, who he caught wandering the corridors past curfew, of strolling through the dark halls at night.

Meanwhile, that was exactly what Snape was doing. Dumbledore's persistent cheeriness hadn't helped matters any, and it annoyed Snape to no end that Dumbledore could pretend to be a senile old man, when the reality was that the old wizard knew more than anyone Snape knew. He left Dumbledore's office in a rather foul mood, mostly because he had been awake for far too long, but also because he had spoken with Lupin, and damn it all, he just had to go and spill his true feelings to the werewolf. He was angry at himself for letting his guard down, and the fact that he had done so in the company of an ex-Marauder, well, that made everything just all the better. Luckily, Snape didn't need to worry about coming across any students, anyway, for it was summer, and he silently thanked whatever deity was listening.

He made his way down to the dungeons, blending in quite well with the shadows. His boots clanked upon the old, worn stones beneath him with every long-strided step, echoing down the hallway and off the walls. The air was damp and smelled musky, and all around, this desolate and lonely place was the perfect safe haven for someone like Severus Snape. He rather liked it that way. Strangely enough, though, just as he had briefly broken down his barriers around Lupin previously that night, he had a thought go through his tired mind that tempted him to explore the grounds outside the castle for once.

There was a small door in the dungeons that few knew about, although the daring student might think it a good way to sneak out of the castle without being caught, that led from the dungeons to the castle grounds. Snape found the said door and used it to venture outdoors. As he quietly closed the door behind him, he looked at the grounds with something next to amazement. He had lived at Hogwarts for fifteen years now and had seen the grounds time and again, but something felt out of place inside the wizard as of late, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He felt the urge to explore. How strange.

Snape walked along the edge of the lake, taking in the gentle ripples on the water's surface. It was mesmerizing to stand there and stare, to find himself lost in their rhythm, forcing him to draw in and reach for the reason why he been feeling different these past few days. Severus Snape, after all, was not a man who welcomed change. He closed his eyes and turned with the wind, and when he opened his endless eyes again, his gaze was on the Whomping Willow.

Now that was not a pleasant tree, not just because it was known to attack anyone who came too close to it, but because the tunnel underneath it led to the Shrieking Shack and reminded Snape of a memory he had since tried to forget. For too long, he had held a grudge against the Marauders, but he was forced to finally admit to himself that Lupin, at least, was not to blame. The werewolf could not have been held responsible for his actions had something worse transpired that fateful evening in their youth. But Sirius Black was a force hard to reconcile. Even after the man had passed into the next realm of existence, Snape still wanted to hold on to that grudge. It was something to continue to grasp, anyway. As Lupin had told Harry, everyone has his or her own way of dealing with loss. For Snape, it was to keep the grudge alive. He didn't know what else to hold on to sometimes.

He shook his head and thinking about Sirius still, muttered, "And you're the one who wound up getting killed first..."

As Snape continued his post-midnight venture on that calm summer night, he walked toward the Forbidden Forest, noticing that Hagrid's lone hut was quiet and still. The half-giant probably had retired hours ago, as had most people with some sense, Snape mused. How foreboding the surroundings were around that safe haven known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The forest was uninviting, to say the least, and anyone who had had the misfortune of hiking through its depths knew that people were not welcome there by any of its inhabitants, especially the centaurs. Snape recalled how he had rushed into the Forbidden Forest on that fateful night a couple of weeks prior, searching frantically for any trace or sign of Harry Potter and his rescue squad. If only Harry knew the type of danger Snape put himself in and through to keep Harry alive...

Or did Harry know? Snape knew full well that Dumbledore always had an annual deep conversation with the boy at the end of each year, but the Headmaster often didn't elaborate on the details to Snape. Snape, after all, wasn't one to openly ask questions, unless he was angry. His usual unpleasantness would much rather relish in the bleak silence of his closed, little world, and maybe that was why Hogwarts, in spite of its tiresome students, was more amicable to Snape than any other place. It, too, was closed off from the rest of the world and seemed to be able to exist quite nicely that way.

But who was he really fooling? Only himself. How many times since the Dark Lord's resurrection had he been called to join in the Death Eater meetings? The moment the Dark Mark burned with agony on his forearm, he had no choice in the matter but to be automatically and immediately transported to Voldemort. To join forces with the Dark Lord, that was definitely the worst decision of his life, and he damn well knew it, but to divulge his real feelings to others was not something Snape did. Even the Headmaster, though he could read Snape like a child's book, did not often have the opportunity to hear the younger man's confessions of the soul. All this deep thought was quite disconcerting and tiring, though, especially for a man who had insisted on staying up well past the recommended time to go to sleep.

He yawned in spite of himself and finally gave in to the need for sleep. He had deprived himself for too long. With that, Snape made his way back to the castle and entered through the small door to the dungeons. He skipped his usual nightly ritual of checking the wards on his private stores and proceeded straight to his chamber. The door shut behind him, leaving the rest of the castle still in a mystery as to what really went on behind that particular closed door.

Meanwhile, Lupin sat alone in a rickety, old shack of a house, though not the infamous Shrieking Shack. He was seated in a rocking chair that creaked with every motion it made as it rocked slowly back and forth in no particular rhythm. Lupin was staring, transfixed, into the flames of the fireplace, watching them as they danced with one another. He shivered, despite both the warmth from the fire and from the general summer air. The circles around his eyes were deeper and more defined at the present moment, and he appeared very sickly and weak. He was thin to begin with, but when the moon was nearly full, his physical body was in worse shape than what was normal for him. Ever since the age of three, poor Lupin had been cursed with the monthly transformations into a werewolf, and he knew the transformations were having an effect on his health. Thankfully, due to Snape's formidable abilities at brewing potions, Lupin had been blessed with a regular dose of Wolfsbane during the past three years or so. He wasn't dangerous to anyone as long as he drank the potion, but still, not only did the potion taste horrible (sugar rendered it useless), but he still had to undergo the transformation from man to wolf.

He allowed his gaze to wander to the window, and there, high in the sky, the moon was almost completely full. Lupin knew that at any moment now, the transformation would begin. His last thoughts before he changed were those of Sirius and James, his two childhood best friends, who had been understanding of his condition and even gone so far as to become illegal animagi. Peter Pettigrew, the rat, literally, was a much less comforting thought. Lupin smiled wanely as he gave in to his fate, thinking of the friendly black dog and majestic stag.

A moment later, a wolf jumped down from the chair and curled up on the rug to sleep. There were nothing better to do than sleep the next three days away, and that was exactly what he did.