Summoned

Chapter 17: Trust Betrayed

"I don't expect you will really understand... the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

July 23, 1995, early evening

The door to Severus' office was ajar and the Potions master was checking something that was brewing in his "chemistry set," as Sirius liked to call it. "More poison?" Remus asked, closing the door behind him.

Severus turned and he saw that he had most certainly said the wrong thing.

"Sorry. - What is it?"

"Blood-Replenishing Potion," Severus answered brusquely. He gave Lupin a long look then turned away. "Have you packed? Books, something else to entertain yourself with?"

And he remembered that Dumbledore had urged him to pack, too. "Aren't we staying here?" He'd been looking forward to going through Severus's collection.

"No."

"Why-?"

"I thought I'd made that clear!" He was beginning to look as if he were having trouble catching his breath.

"No, you didn't. You didn't even mention it."

Severus sighed and glanced away, perhaps realizing that Lupin was right and he hadn't discussed it with him. "I do not know what Orestes is doing here: I can't chance him doing anything while I'm unconscious."

"Oh. - So, where are we going?"

"You'll see. I would rather not say while we are here in the castle. - You will want to bring your broom. And - books?"

Lupin glanced at the bookshelves behind Severus, but was reluctant to ask.

"Go ahead," the Potions master said, and went into his bedroom. He reappeared a few minutes later with a small trunk and his own broom. Lupin had pulled four thick books from the shelves.

"Let me get some things. I'll meet you - back here?"

Severus nodded.

Lupin raced up to the room he'd been staying in and grabbed enough clothing and other items for the next two days. He pulled his broom and traveling cape from the wardrobe and returned to Severus' office.

Silently, Severus led them out of the castle, but stopped at the edge of the building, just outside the Entrance Hall. "A Disillusionment Charm is called for," he said, and without waiting tapped Lupin on the head with his wand. In seconds, Lupin's body took on the chameleon-like qualities the Charm was so famous for. He blended into the landscape.

"Why are we -?"

"I will explain later." He had put the Charm on himself, and Lupin had to look very closely to see the slight movement in the air where Severus now stood. "Come along." He started walking.

"Aren't we flying somewhere?"

"No." With that, Severus made his way around the side of the castle. "The broom was to mislead anyone in the castle who might have been watching," he explained, and Lupin recognized, without really accepting it, where they were going.

"The Whomping Willow?" he asked as the old tree came into view.

"Yes."

"We're going to the Shack?"

"Yes."

Without another word, Severus approached the tree cautiously and pressed the knob that stopped the imminent attack of the branches. The opening appeared and he went first into the dank tunnel.

"Lumos!"

Together, they walked through the darkness, lit only by their wands. Eventually, the tunnel climbed upward and they were in the Shack.

"Fairly depressing surroundings," Lupin commented before they'd actually entered the building.

"I will be unconscious," Severus said. "It will not matter."

To you, thought Lupin, but he said nothing. The Shack actually held pleasant memories for him, including the most recent memory of having been reunited with Sirius, finding out his friend was innocent of having betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort. Of course, that memory also included Severus trying to turn Sirius over to dementors...

But there were also the memories he and Severus shared of the nearly-fatal prank Sirius and James had pulled on Snape when they were sixteen.

And then they were in the entryway and Severus snapped his wand at several hanging lamps in the room.

"My goodness!" Lupin looked around in wonder. He had never seen the place look so good! He and the others, as teenagers, had never bothered to keep the place neat. But Severus had apparently gone through the Shack with a fine-tooth comb.

The walls were freshly painted. The windows had been repaired. The carpeting on the steps looked new. There was no mustiness, no dampness. Somehow, Severus had managed to seal the place against moisture.

"Can I ask why you did all this? Not for two days of unconsciousness, I'm guessing."

"No." Severus moved on ahead and lit the chandelier in the kitchen. That room, too, had undergone a transfiguration.

The kitchen had been turned into a laboratory for Severus to concoct brews for Voldemort. Two cauldrons held semi-liquid substances he didn't recognize. Against the wall next to the cupboard were several beakers and cones and siphons and metal coils and bottles. In the cupboard were a collection of arcane ingredients, many of which Lupin didn't recognize, and some of which he did - and wished he didn't.

"So this is where you're making your poisons now?" He made his way around the kitchen, noticing how very sterile the place was.

"Yes." Severus met his eyes and gave away nothing. "I will be upstairs in the bedroom," he said, flicking his wand and sending his trunk up. "I shall put in another bed for you." He turned as if to follow his trunk, but Lupin stopped him.

"Where's the Draught?"

"In my trunk, where else would it be?" He turned again toward the stairs. "Please don't touch anything in the kitchen. The parlor is reasonably clean and stocked with food and drinks."

Apparently, he expected Remus to stay downstairs. Remus had other ideas. He followed Severus up the stairs and caught up with him as they entered the bedroom which had been the scene of his and Sirius' reunion almost two years ago.

It looked nothing like it had. The four-poster bed had been repaired, there were clean covers on it. All the windows were new and curtains - black - hung on each side. There was only the bare, wooden floor, but that, too, had been cleaned and waxed.

"Hmm. Spend a lot of time here, now?" Remus asked.

Severus apparently hadn't heard him coming up behind him. He almost jumped from surprise, then glared at Lupin as if he had just trespassed on something very private.

"Sorry," he said. "I just figured that, since I'm supposed to be watching over you, I should see to it that everything starts out right."

Severus glared, but before he could respond, he turned rapidly away, flashed his wand in the air, and began vomiting blood into the basin he'd just conjured.

Lupin stood by, not so much disgusted by the fact that Severus had gotten sick as he was by the volume of thick, clotted blood he'd just brought up. As if to confirm the severity of that, Severus staggered to the bed and sank down on the side, still holding the basin until the urge to vomit had passed. Then he Vanished the container and sat there with his head in his hands, sweating and shivering.

It was hard to remain impassive. Remus moved closer and bent over the Potions master. "Let's get you to sleep," he said quietly, and without protest, Severus allowed him to help get the very tight clothes off and slip into the nightshirt he'd brought. In the dim lighting of the room, Lupin saw, once again, the swollen, bruised legs and feet and, briefly, caught sight of the discoloration on Severus' chest and back and arms.

"You must be in a lot of pain. I'm sorry."

Severus's eyes flared with anger. "I do not want your sympathy, Lupin!"

Lupin grinned and ignored the response. "Hope this works."

Severus had flicked his wand to open his trunk, where his nightshirt and robe had been and now, exhausted by the effort of getting undressed, he merely looked toward it and said, "The Draught is in there."

Lupin got the bottle out. It looked like enough to put Severus into a coma for life, which, given the effects of an overdose of this stuff, wouldn't be very long. Next to the bottle was a small cup and he brought that with him back to the bed.

"Ideally, I shouldn't waken for two days," Severus said. He looked up, daring Lupin to make some kind of wise comment. He held his tongue. Severus looked too awful to tease: even Sirius would probably have held back.

Severus poured some of the potion into the cup. "Unfortunately, I can only take enough to last for twelve hours at a time. Any more than that -"

"And it's fatal," Lupin finished impatiently. "I remember."

Severus paused with the cup midway to his lips. "Yes. You always were good at potions. And Herbology."

Despite everything that had happened in the years since - and in that year, particularly - Remus still remembered with fondness the joint Potions-Herbology N.E.W.T. projects they'd worked on their sixth year.

"Well, not like you. You and Lily just had an intuitive grasp of them."

Severus eyed him steadily, but said nothing. He downed the foul-tasting potion rapidly, then levitated the cup and jar back into his trunk. "I'll leave it open," he said, "so you can get the next dose ready when I wake up."

Severus continued to sit on the bed, not prepared to lie down yet, apparently, so Remus looked around and found a wooden chair across the room. He pulled it over and sat near the bed, looking at Severus.

"Isn't that stuff supposed to take effect quickly?"

Severus glowered at him. "It will."

"So, what it is between you and Moody?" he asked, hoping to catch Severus so much off-guard that he could get a good read on his expression: he did!

"What do you mean?" Severus asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Lupin shrugged. "You didn't want him involved in this, not even for a few hours. Figured there must be some bad blood between you." He waited, but Severus looked as if he were trying to come up with a believable answer. "Is it because he arrested you after You-Know-Who fell?"

Severus's gaze narrowed. "I see you already asked him about this." Remus shrugged. "What did he tell you?"

"That it was none of my business."

"He was right." Severus looked at the covers on the bed, then got up and pulled them down.

"But that isn't it, is it?"

Severus whirled angrily. "Are you always this insufferably intrusive into matters that do not concern you?"

Remus had expected that, and he smiled easily. "Usually," he admitted. "Not always. Besides, you're a fine one to talk, spending months every term, following James and Sirius around, trying to find out what they were up to."

He waited and but Severus didn't take the bait and eventually went back to turning down the bed. "It's something that happened before that, though, isn't it? I can't imagine anything worse than that happening between you since then."

Severus didn't so much answer as he just stopped. Whatever occupied his thoughts, Remus saw, apparently Severus couldn't continue moving as long as the thoughts were there.

He'd found a very sensitive nerve: but he'd already expected that.

Finally, Severus looked back at him. "You can leave the room. Now."

Remus shook his head. "Want to make sure the Draught actually works. Then I'll go make myself comfortable."

Severus finally surrendered and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over him, but sitting against the headboard. "It can take as long as fifteen minutes," he said irritably. "You can come back then."

Remus shook his head again.

"Then at least shut up!"

Remus almost laughed. "You're hardly as frightening right now as you like to be, you know." He cocked his head. "How about another question: why won't you forgive Sirius?"

Oh, that made the color - well, more color - rise in Severus' cheeks. "Why did you?"

Lupin's chest tightened. "They were my friends, they apologized. They made a mistake."

"A mistake that nearly killed me!"

Lupin looked away, remembering the three days Severus had spent at the hospital after he'd unwittingly attacked him. It had been one of the more horrible times in his own life, especially knowing how close Severus had come to being a werewolf - and knowing what he'd had to go through to prevent that.

"That was a mistake that could have turned you into a murderer!" Severus continued, sounding more concerned with Lupin's possible fate than his own. "How would that have been, then? You, locked up in Azkaban for the rest of your life?"

"We've been over that! It didn't happen, did it? - Why don't you tell me why you went under the Willow that night?" It was a risky thing to bring up: and Severus pulled back as if Remus had just struck him across the face.

"Oh, you know do how to hit low, don't you, Lupin!"

"Why won't you just tell the truth about that?"

"I went in there to get - my - books!"

"That's a lie! A damned lie you've been telling for twenty years!"

"Then let it lie!"

"Why won't you tell the truth? Do you even admit it to yourself any more?"

Severus looked stricken. "Leave. That. Alone!"

Remus took a deep breath. The truth about that night would probably never be told, he figured, at least not as long as Severus was alive to deny it.

"Yeah," he said, backing off. "Sirius stole your school books and you went under the Willow to get them - knowing you were going to face a fully-transformed werewolf."

"They trapped you!" Severus spat back, once again taking the subject away from himself, his own motives that night. "At the least, you'd have ended up a biter, like Fenrir! Like the damned wolf who bit you!" He took a quick, deep breath as though he realized he had not meant to say that.

"Merlin's beard! You just can't let it go, can you?" He chuckled.

"No. I cannot." But he was growing sleepy, Remus saw, and there was no force behind his words. Severus's eyes were beginning to close and lose focus, and he realized he might get one more question in before Severus lost consciousness for the next twelve hours.

"What happened with you and Moody? Really?"

Severus had slid down and was lying on his back at last. His eyes drooped, but he looked at Remus and the werewolf knew the potion was going to take him any minute.

"He sent me to Azkaban."

"I know that. But what -"

Severus shook his head, obviously losing consciousness. "No. When I was twelve. He sent me to Azkaban. Thought I - killed..."

And then his eyes closed completely, his breath became almost non-existent, and he stopped moving, as if he'd suddenly been put into a full Body-Bind.

Remus was left staring, not sure if he'd heard right or not. And if he had...

He didn't want to think about it.

* * * July 23-24, 1995, early morning

Severus had not put an additional bed in the room, but Remus wasn't bothered by that. Instead, he summoned the couch from the parlor - a very nice, chintz-covered couch - and put it in the large room, near the fireplace. He lit the fire as the sun descended, and closed the curtains in the room. He'd fixed himself some soup and a sandwich for dinner, made himself a pot of tea - which he had used the kitchen for - and brought everything and one of Severus' books upstairs with him.

It was unnerving to see the man laid out like a corpse, and even more so since he couldn't detect even the slightest chest movement or passage of breath through his lips. His eyes did not move beneath his eyelids, and when Remus checked both his neck and wrist for a pulse, he could detect none.

It had been about six when he'd taken the draught, and Lupin watched the clock very carefully. Despite his claim of being nocturnally oriented, he did doze off a few times on the couch, but never for more than half an hour. He checked and rechecked the tattoo burned into Severus's arm, making sure it didn't darken.

When the sun finally rose, he began to wait eagerly for signs of consciousness. Finally, at seven, he gave up his silent vigil across the room and went to the bed to waken him.

"Severus," he called quietly. There was no response. "Severus," he tried again, this time with a hand on the man's arm, jiggling it. "Severus! It's time to wake up. You need another dose." He continued shaking the man and calling to him for almost ten minutes before he saw Severus' chest rise and fall with a breath. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his own breath until he let it out.

"You had me scared for a minute there," he muttered, even though the man was not yet conscious.

Finally, twenty minutes after the first deep breath, Severus opened his eyes. Instantly, he crushed his facial features into an expression of deep pain. But Lupin had the Draught ready to give him right away.

"Here," he said, but Severus didn't seem to be able to raise his hand to take the cup. He put his arm under Severus's head and tried to lift it, but the man cried out with pain and he pulled back. "Do you know where you are, Severus? Do you remember what's happening?"

Snape finally turned a familiar glowering look on him. "You're - saving my life. Again." He barely parted his lips, and Remus found the summary more than a little amusing.

"Well, then, here. You've got to take this." He reached behind the man again and this time Severus cooperated. He swallowed the potion, then fell back on the bed, apparently spent.

"Any better?" Remus asked a minute later. Severus seemed to be throwing off the effects of the last dose, and this one hadn't yet started to take effect: he was waking up.

"You were - asking me - questions," the Potions master said. He cleared his throat and winced with pain. "What were you - asking me?"

Oops! "We were talking about the prank Sirius and James pulled on you."

Severus met his eyes and in them, Severus knew he was lying. "We were discussing - Azkaban."

"Right. Just - in passing. That I could have ended up there -"

"That I did - end up there," Severus cut in, his voice lowered and threatening. His eyes began to flick back and forth, trying to remember..."What did you ask me?"

There really wasn't any use trying to keep the information from him, Remus realized. With any luck, Severus would be unconscious before he had time to hex him or put a curse on him, though. And then, maybe after the next two doses, another twenty-four hours...

"You said Moody arrested you for murder when you were - when you were a boy."

The fire in Severus's eyes was enough to make Remus back away from the bed. "I - did - not - say - that!" He struggled to sit up and Remus stayed right where he was. Unconsciously, his right hand closed around his wand, and he remembered with relief that Severus' was across the room, with his clothing.

"Then I must have imagined it."

There was a kind of horror on Severus' face, the kind of horror that, mingled with serious embarrassment, made Remus look away. When he finally looked back, Severus was still glaring at him, and had managed to sit up.

"I didn't - tell you - that," he said again, this time his tone pleading.

Lupin sighed. "You did. You said he thought you'd killed someone and he arrested you when you were twelve. - But that's all you told me. Nothing else."

Severus shut his eyes tightly, as if in pain, and Remus began to feel like the sludge on top of the potion in the kitchen. "I shouldn't have - I'm sorry. Don't worry, no one will ever -"

"Leave!" Severus ordered. His eyes opened and there was a fury in them that Remus knew could erupt into a curse without his needing his wand. Without him even speaking! "Get out of here! Now!"

"I said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that... Maybe you really don't know how to forgive, but that's too bad. I'm not leaving you here unguarded."

Severus struggled to get out of the bed, and then, realizing the futility of it, he gave up and sank back against his pillows and stared at the ceiling. He didn't blink.

Remus waited across the room, then slowly made his way back to the bedside. "I guess you never told anyone about it?" he asked quietly.

And then he remembered the beginning of their second year, and the train trip to Hogwarts...

Someone - Malfoy, he thought - had indeed started a rumor that Severus had become the youngest Death Eater ever and had already killed his first victim as his initiation into Voldemort's service.

But even James and Sirius, though they had wanted to, couldn't believe that far-fetched rumor.

"I said, get out!"

"And I said no. - I know you didn't kill anyone, Severus. You may have been a pain in the arse, but you weren't a killer. Not then." He waited and Severus turned his glare back on him.

"If you are still here," he finally said sleepily, "when I wake up next..."

"Stow it! You aren't going to do anything to me right now. You're too damned weak to get out of bed, much less curse me. Go back to sleep, Severus, and forget about it. I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm not a vindictive schoolboy out to get you by spreading vicious rumors about you!"

And then, quite surprisingly, the expression on Severus's face changed, subtly at first. And then, with a deep breath and his eyes closing, he said, "No. That was Malfoy's job."

And the Draught silenced him.

* * * July 24, 1995, early evening

He awoke in the middle of a half-dozen thoughts, as if he'd been dreaming several dreams at once.

The first thought was that the Dark Lord was in the room with him and was waiting to use another painful curse on him. The second thought was that the Potter boy was in the room and he was about to curse Potter for being such a lazy, insufferable lout! And the third thought was that Lucius Malfoy was in the room, laughing and taunting him about what had happened in the graveyard.

But wherever the thoughts came from, it wasn't from a dream. The Draught kept away the dreams. And nightmares.

It was dark, he could tell, even before he opened his eyes. Not just inside the room, but outside as well. He was shivering, not so much from the cold as from scores of memories that were flooding through him, almost too fast to catch, far too fast to control.

He was twelve, sitting in the cold, dark cell at Azkaban...

He was sixteen and James Potter had just pulled him out of the tunnel under the Willow...

He was sixteen, lying on a cot in the hospital wing, listening to Dumbledore explain about Remus Lupin, ordering him not to tell anyone else about it, and he knew he would never do that, could never expose Lupin's secret, he'd already known it for more than a year anyhow...

He was sixteen and in the hospital, enduring the torturous treatment that was the only hope of removing the werewolf venom from his system, to keep him from becoming just like Lupin...

He twisted in the bed, and tried to break out of the numbing heaviness that gripped his limbs. He couldn't even raise his head, and he began to feel a familiar panic, as if he were once more bound by cords that spun themselves around him from the tip of Moody's wand...

"Severus, come on, open your eyes. Time for the next dose. Severus!"

And then he remembered: It was Lupin in the room, and he had found out about...

He wasn't quite aware that he was doing it: the anger of his memories flared at the sound of Lupin's voice and he swept his arm up and out, felt it contact flesh, and yelled, "Protego!" as he opened his eyes and tried to sit up. He looked around and saw Lupin flat on the floor halfway across the room, struggling up, his wand out.

"No!" Lupin yelled. "Stop! You were dreaming. There's nothing dangerous here. You've just woken from the Draught, remember?" He had struggled to his feet and was smoothing his jacket and shaking himself as if he were a dog shaking water off his back. "It's alright, Severus, just relax!"

"You!" he snarled. "You - betrayed - my - trust!"

"I what?" Lupin hobbled over to the bed, favoring his right leg. "What are you talking about?"

"Moody! Azkaban! You - tricked me! Used the Draught - against me!"

And before Lupin could respond, Severus once more sent the wizard flying across the room, this time with a nonverbal curse that left Lupin struggling much harder to get up. It actually took him a couple minutes, and when he did, his face contorted in pain.

"Damn it, Severus! Back off! I'm not here to hurt you!" He limped to the chair near the bed and lifted the right leg of his slacks. The ankle was badly swollen and purple. "Thanks!" he said sarcastically. He aimed his wand at the broken bone and tried to mend it, but his spell wasn't strong enough to do the job.

"I want you to leave. And I do not - ever - want you back - in this place - or my office - ever! - Get. Out!"

Lupin rubbed the back of his head and grimaced. "Probably gave me a bloody concussion, too," he grumbled. Then he looked at Severus, whose eyes were hot with fury. He stood, his ankle gave out, he gasped from the pain and grabbed the back of the chair to steady himself. Then he leaned down and picked up the small cup from the side of Severus' bed: the dose of Living Death that he'd been holding when Severus had first lashed out at him was drizzling along the floorboards.

"I hope you brought extra," Lupin said, apparently not taking Severus' words seriously.

As Lupin turned away and limped back to the trunk where he'd obviously returned the bottle, Severus struggled with every ounce of strength he had to get out of bed. He made it, but standing was much more challenging than he'd expected.

"I want you out!" he repeated, with as much venom as he could put into his words. "Now!"

Lupin sighed, poured another dose of the Draught into the cup and then looked at the bottle. "No, you didn't bring any extra," he said, completely ignoring Severus' anger. "I'm going to have to go get more." He finally turned and looked at the Potions master, struggling to remain standing, clutching the bedpost with his left hand. "Sit down!" he ordered.

"Out!" Severus repeated. He thought that had a bit more force behind it this time. But then he lost his battle with standing and slumped back, helplessly, on the bed, the residual effects of the last dose he'd taken still too much in him.

Lupin hobbled back across the room but stayed behind the chair, not getting close enough to hand him the Draught. "Look, you can order me out of your life after this is over. For now, you need to take this and go back to sleep. I'll get some more and then I'll be right back." He paused. "What is wrong with you, Severus? You expect other people to trust you, but you won't trust anyone else?"

It was too keen an observation for him to contemplate at the moment. He trusted Dumbledore, of course. Well, mostly. He always had the ugly feeling that one wrong move on his part would have Dumbledore calling for his return to Azkaban...

He'd been afraid of that since he was twelve.

"Trust?" he finally asked. "Then why did you question me when I wasn't able to resist?"

Lupin ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. "I haven't asked you anything else since. - Come on, drink up!"

He took the cup, his hand shaking, but he couldn't bring himself to swallow what was in it. He looked at it for a few seconds, then shoved the glass into Lupin's hand and turned away. Before he could summon a pail, Lupin had already done it, and it hovered in position as he began to vomit again.

When he was done and Lupin had Vanished the pail, he sank back against his pillows, exhausted, shivering.

"So - no improvement?" the werewolf asked quietly.

He shook his head. "There is," he muttered. All the fight, all the fire, had gone out of him. The small amount of energy he'd dredged up had faded. "That was - that was old blood. Left over." He swallowed and wiped a hand across his face to remove the sweat. "Nothing fresh."

Then Lupin was sitting in the chair and he was wiping a cool, wet cloth across Severus' forehead. The shivering returned, and Lupin pulled the bedclothes around him and held the draught to his lips. "Here."

He drank the concoction and laid back and waited for oblivion.

"I'm going to fly back to the school and get some more," Lupin said. "Is there some in your stores, or do I need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

He nodded, and then realized that didn't answer Lupin's question. "That was - all I have." He coughed and cleared his throat: for some reason, it had tightened up and he was having trouble talking.

Lupin nodded. "I'll wait until you're asleep," he said. He put a fresh, cool cloth on Severus' forehead and left it there. "I shouldn't be more than half an hour."

He felt the darkness wrapping around him, felt himself fading away.

And there was something he wanted to tell Lupin, something he wanted to say to him before he lost consciousness for another twelve hours. Something important... What?

"What did you say?" Lupin asked, leaning close.

"Never. Again. Trust."

Lupin's eyes were the last thing he remembered seeing.

* * *

The first thing Lupin realized as he entered the castle was that he needed a reason to ask Madam Pomfrey for a twelve-hour dose of the Draught of Living Death. And he couldn't think of one that didn't involve the truth, which he supposed was being kept from the nurse at this point. He had a good enough reason to be in the hospital wing, though: his ankle wasn't quite healed properly: he didn't have the gift.

He didn't know how much anyone at Hogwarts knew about Severus' condition, and, given everything else, he didn't want to reveal too much to the wrong person.

Orestes definitely being the wrong person, and the first one he met in the castle.

"Lovely evening, Remus, isn't it?"

Remus smiled and nodded. "Yes."

"I'm on my way to talk with Severus," the old Healer said, quite innocently. "I've been worried about - well, he's not quite himself right now."

"Hmm."

"What's wrong with you? You're limping."

"Oh. That. Uh - tripped on the way up." That had to have sounded as feeble as he thought it was. But Orestes didn't seem to think so.

"Well, let me see," the man demanded, pulling his wand out. For a few seconds, Remus wasn't sure what to do. Then he realized that it was highly unlikely that Orestes would betray himself by doing something to Lupin here in the middle of the corridor.

He lifted his pant leg and exposed the broken bone.

"Nasty trip!" the Healer commented, waving his wand over the bones as he spoke. "There. Better?"

"Perfect," Lupin said. The bone looked whole, the pain was gone, except for a bit of bruising still left.

"Have you seen Dumbledore today?" the Healer asked as they came to point where Lupin would leave him.

"No, I've - I haven't been here all day. - Just going to see him now," he added, realizing that heading toward the Headmaster's office would not be unusual. Heading for the hospital wing now, though, would be, at best, insulting.

"Well, he seems to be avoiding me, though I can't imagine why. Anyway," he added, turning toward the stairs that led to the dungeons, "tell him hello for me."

Remus nodded noncommittally and waited for the Healer to disappear.

He stood in front of the gargoyle for almost a full minute, trying to guess the password for the day. He tried every candy he'd ever known, a few of Dumbledore's choice phrases, and nothing worked. He was ready to give up and simply head to the hospital wing, when he heard someone coming toward him.

"Dumbledore!"

The Headmaster looked very tired and his smile wavered. "Remus," he greeted. "Aren't you supposed to be with Severus?"

"Yes." He took a deep breath. "I dropped one of the doses of the Draught: needed to get some more. I wasn't sure what to tell Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore looked at the gargoyle and said, "Peanut brittle," and the statue slid aside. "Tell her nothing. - Doesn't Severus have any more in his personal stores?"

Remus shook his head.

"That's a sign of how badly off he is," the man said as they rode the staircase up to the next level. "He usually plans well ahead for things like this."

"I don't think he planned on being poisoned," Lupin pointed out. "So - how am I to get more?"

"From Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, as if that were obvious.

"But I thought you said -"

"I'll get it from her," he said, and led the way into his office. "I don't have to explain what I do." He gestured to the table near the door. "If you're hungry..."

Remus took a look at the small banquet that was laid out in front of him. "Eating alone?" he asked. Dumbledore had gone to the fireplace and thrown Floo powder into it.

"Madam Pomfrey. A moment of your time, please." He turned back to Lupin. "I'm trying to determine how to handle the situation with Orestes," he explained. "I often like to - nibble something while I'm pondering."

Lupin grinned and helped himself to a small handful of grapes.

"Headmaster," said a voice from the fire. Remus stayed where he was, out of sight of the nurse.

"Madam Pomfrey, I find myself in need of some of your asphodel and wormwood concoction. Have you any on hand?"

There was a long silence. "I do."

"Excellent. Can I come get it?"

"Uh, may I ask what you need it for, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled very nicely. "No. - May I come get it?"

There was a noise from the fire that might have been a flame crackling, but Lupin thought not.

"I'll be happy to bring it to you," the nurse said, her voice very stiff and disapproving. "How much do you need?"

Dumbledore quickly turned to Lupin who mouthed, "Twelve hours," to him.

"Enough for, oh, say, twelve hours of rest."

"Hmph!" She disappeared from the flames.

"Shall I wait somewhere else?" Remus offered, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"She might as well think you're my intended victim," he said lightly. Then his face turned sober. "How is he?"

Lupin took a long breath. "He's just taken the third dose," he started. "But he said he was getting better."

Dumbledore, whose eyes might have been fairly old, but whose intuition was quite sharp still squinted at him from across the room. "What happened?"

Damn and blast! How did he do that? Remus wondered. Maybe the man was practicing his Legilimency on Lupin!

"Nothing happened," he answered calmly. "He - had - some nightmares." Which was what he'd decided he was going to try to convince Severus of when he came to the next time.

Dumbledore continued to hold his gaze, unblinkingly. "And?"

Before he could answer, Madam Pomfrey stepped out of Dumbledore's fireplace, brushed ashes off her apron, and held out a deep blue vial about the size of two snitches. "I'd feel much better administering this myself, Headmaster," she said, and then noticed Lupin. "Oh. - Is this for you, then?"

He opened his mouth but it was Dumbledore who answered. "I'll take it, Poppy, thank you."

He reached for it, actually put his hand around it, but she wasn't letting go. "You do know how dangerous this is?" she tried. "It's very easy to overdose!"

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that. - This is just enough for twelve hours?" he asked, trying to mollify her it seemed.

"Yes," she said slowly. "But, Headmaster, that much at one time can - well, you know there are side effects, don't you?"

That caught Remus' attention and he turned to her. Dumbledore took his hand away, apparently surrendering to the fact that he would need to submit to Madam Pomfrey's lecture before she would turn it over to him.

"No, Poppy, I'm not aware of the side effects. Do, please, enlighten me."

She looked much happier, Remus thought.

"First of all, the dose needs to be measured out for each individual person. If you plan to use this, for example, on Mr. Lupin," she inclined her head toward him, "you would use slightly more than if you intended it for, oh, say, yourself."

"Thank you, Poppy."

"I'm not done!" she said, pulling the bottle away from his outstretched hand. Remus struggled not to smile.

"In most cases, the Jobberknoll feathers that are part of the potion have a very strong compulsive effect once the Draught starts to work."

"Compulsive?" Lupin asked, feeling sick.

"Yes." She turned to him and Dumbledore was looking at him too, but with a much keener gaze. "The Draught begins to affect the patient in about two minutes, but the full effect of the coma-like sleep takes another fifteen. During that time, the drug acts as a kind of truth serum. The patient will have blurry memories of whatever is discussed when the potion wears off. But he will be very susceptible to suggestions and unable to dissemble during that period." She looked back at Dumbledore. "Of course, using it in that fashion is both unethical and forbidden by the Ministry guidelines that regulate all truth serums."

"Would - everyone who is familiar with using this Draught," Dumbledore asked, glancing at Madam Pomfrey, and then back to him, "know this?"

"Of course!"

"Would Professor Snape?" he specified.

"He's quite an expert on all the uses of this Draught," Madam Pomfrey said, haughtily.

"I'll bet he is," Remus murmured, ready to send a few hexes and curses in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Damn it! Severus could have - should have - told him about that!

Dumbledore apparently heard him, but the nurse seemed not to have. "All the uses?" Dumbledore asked.

She looked uncomfortable. "Other uses are - unethical," she said, "and they require diluting the draught with other - ingredients." She glared at the Headmaster. "I take it you aren't planning to do that."

"No."

She nodded. Dumbledore only slowly looked away from Lupin.

"Also," she was continuing, "since the Draught puts a person beyond dreaming, he will usually have exceptionally vivid, lifelike dreams for a night or two after." She glanced in Lupin's direction. "I wouldn't recommend using it anytime from now until Wednesday."

Madam Pomfrey, of course, knew all about his lycanthropy. She had taken him each month to the Willow. It was that which had caught Severus's attention in the first place, which led Sirius and James to play their trick on him.

"Thank you, Poppy," Dumbledore said, reaching once more for the vial. This time, she handed it over.

"I mean that, Headmaster. Not until after Wednesday!" She spoke of it, Remus thought, as if she weren't sure if Dumbledore knew that he would be turning into a werewolf in a few days.

"I understand, Poppy. There's no reason to worry."

After she left, by the door this time, Dumbledore turned and gave Lupin the vial and a long, unhappy look. "Well. Since we both now know that he couldn't have been having nightmares," he started, and Lupin knew he was going to have to face the wrath of the Headmaster, "why don't you tell me what really happened?"

He stuffed the vial into his pants pocket, then sank into the nearest chair and put his elbow on his knees and his head in his hands. "I didn't know - I didn't know it had that effect!" He looked up.

"What did he say to you that you know he never would have told you on his own?" the man demanded, speaking very slowly so that he could be sure Lupin understood how angry he was.

"I didn't know!" he protested. "We were just - talking."

"About what?"

He looked away and let out a hard breath. "Him and Moody."

When he looked back, Dumbledore had seated himself in one of the chairs near the fireplace, and the look on his face told Remus he was lucky he couldn't still be expelled!

"And what - did he tell you - about him and Moody?"

He cleared his throat and considered his answer. He had intended never to tell anyone what he'd learned. And that had to include Dumbledore, he decided. "I - really can't say. - I don't want to betray -"

"Betray?" Dumbledore boomed. "Betray what, Remus? What's left?" He seemed to get a quick grasp of his anger and the wrath went down to a dangerous simmer. "You asked him questions about something very personal, and waited for him to tell you -"

"I didn't know the damned thing was a truth serum!"

"You thought he spontaneously opened up about something very private? To you?"

Remus didn't have an answer. "I - I knew he was sleepy. And - I was being nosy. But honestly, Dumbledore, I never meant to -"

"What did he tell you about Moody and him?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone!"

"I know all about what happened," Dumbledore said, his voice still low but not happy. "What did he tell you?"

Remus looked at the man. Of course, Dumbledore knew all about Severus's arrest after Voldemort fell. But he couldn't imagine any situation in which Severus would have told Dumbledore about the rest of it. "I'm sorry. I've done enough. I can't tell you."

Dumbledore glared at him for a moment. Then he said, "Did he tell you what happened when he was - much younger?"

The shock hit Lupin hard. "You know?"

Dumbledore sighed impatiently. "I just said I did!"

"I mean - he told you about - about being arrested? When - after his first year?"

Dumbledore considered his answer. "He was taken to Azkaban. He told you that, didn't he?"

Remus nodded.

"For the record, he was never under arrest. A terrible mistake was made and he ended up there."

"He said he was arrested," Lupin protested.

"I know. Did he say why?"

"He said they - the Aurors, I guess - thought he'd killed someone."

"Did he say who?"

"No." He met the Headmaster's eyes. "If he wasn't arrested, why did he say he was?"

"To a twelve year old in that situation, it was the same thing. He's never -" He stopped and shook his head. "I'm very disappointed in you, Remus. Do you have any idea what it cost him - what it meant - for him to trust you to do this? To see him as weak and ill as he is? To watch over him while he's completely helpless? After all Voldemort's already done to him?"

He felt like two knuts waiting for change. "I've already apologized to him."

Dumbledore shook his head. "That won't matter. You and Minerva are - were - about as close to being anything near what he might ever call a friend. - Not that he actually ever would."

"Don't you think," Lupin shot back, his defenses rising, "that he could have told me about that 'side effect'?"

"Do you think he expected to be questioned about something so personal - so painful - after he'd taken the Draught? Be honest with yourself, even if you aren't with me! You knew the drug was having an effect on him! You knew he'd never tell you anything about that if he were in his right mind! Which, by the way, thanks to Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy, he isn't yet!"

Dumbledore got up from the chair as if it had suddenly burned him. He paced the length of the space, his hands clasped behind his back. Then he turned and faced him again. "This is for you two to work out," he said, as if the lecture were finally over. "But there are things you lose, Remus, that you can never get back. I'm sorry you didn't think about that. I'd have thought you'd understand."