Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Chapter Three: Despair and Hope

In which actions are taken, something good happens, the reader has an important revelation, and the plot thickens.

"Bagman!" Lupin called loudly. He was cutting through Hyde Park on his way to the library in Diagon Alley. Why Apparate when you could walk? The instant he stepped outside he was glad he had chosen to take a scenic route. Even the abandoned wreckage of Grimmauld Place didn't look too depressing in the bright March morning that hinted of the Earth being born again, fresh and clean, which was exactly how Remus felt. All of his happiness had puzzled itself together in one day: he and his beloved were going to run away together to Italy, where they would be safe from harm, and in essence, Remus joked to himself, live happily ever after.

Treading through the park, Remus's happiness grew and grew. He was rejuvenated, in spite of the approaching full moon, and felt as free as the world around him. The sparse grass on the ground was still short, but it wouldn't be for long. The sky was the smoothest blue-white he had ever seen it; the budding trees were dewy and yet the ground wasn't marshy. The row of red tulips he was walking alongside was blushing and vibrant already, and they, too, sparkled with wetness. The pavilion over to his side was perfectly picturesque in its symmetry and in the circles of bright flowers that surrounded it. The path directly ahead of Remus boasted only one pedestrian: the jovial Ludo Bagman, bumbling along with his nose buried in a book, weaving from side to side and occasionally bumping into light poles in his concentration. His lips moved as he read and sometimes he would stop to repeat a concept to himself.

"Whatcha got there, Bagman?" Remus hailed his friend again.

Finally the stout ex-Quidditch player looked up. "Hey there, Lupin."

"What are you reading?" Lupin asked, as always fascinated by any and every book.

"See for yourself," Ludo handed him his copy of Eddie the Evil's Exhilarating Escapades with an excited flourish. Remus took a quick look at the badly-drawn yet ferocious-looking wolf on the cover, which growled at him halfheartedly and scratched some fleas, and examined the page he opened up to randomly.

Eddie snatched at the sleeping kitten on his doorstep, but he was drooling so hard he missed. He was ravenous and in the mood for some tender kitten meat. Eating animals raw was so much more enjoyable when he was in his wolf form, but he would have to make do. At least this way, he could sharpen the bones and style them into jewelry. As Eddie the Evil chased the awakened kitten around the yard, it reminded him of that afternoon, when he had used his enormous, sharp, blood-encrusted knife to gut the baby he had kidnapped from its playpen last full moon and had been keeping imprisoned in his dungeons...

Moony closed the book, his face blank. He didn't know whether to be sad or disgusted or ashamed. Ludo caught the look he had tried to hide and nodded understandingly. "Those werewolves. Nasty creatures. but still, at least it's an enemy we know. Experts like-" he checked the cover for the name of the author "-Reginald Skeeter know how to keep us informed, eh?" He stuffed the book into one of the pockets of his old, stretched robes and exhaled loudly.

Lupin said nothing.

Bagman took no note of his friend's silence. "Did you hear about the edict?" He continued without waiting for an answer, "No? Good. It's supposed to be a secret. But I can tell you, of course." He paused for a moment in an effort to build up suspense, and then confided, "They're killing 'em. Werewolves. Every single one. All over Europe." He was about to launch into his thought-out lecture on how untrustworthy werewolves were, how it would be a relief to have their respective children safe, when Lupin interrupted:

"All over Europe?"

Bagman nodded affirmatively, grinning a grin only a very stupid and oblivious fat person is able to pull off. "The only safe place for a bloody werewolf now is America - and not even there if Cornelius can help it."

"How do you know?" Remus knew he should be asking more pertinent questions, but this cheerful man and his willingness to spout endless information intrigued him.

If Ludo had been excited before, he was piqued now. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tangled mess of pink string. "Weasleys' extendable ears. I was the first to pick up a pair. Amazing little gadgets, aren't they?" Lupin could see that they were indeed the latest of the Weasley twins' pranks, the ones he rightly suspected they used to spy on Order meetings they had been shunned from.

"I used them to spy on Fudge's meetings with Malfoy," Ludo confided, with extreme juxtaposition. Lupin almost smiled, thinking of how ironic it was that something Fred and George had used to stir up trouble was finally being put to good use. He was jerked out of his musings when Bagman finished with a hearty and good-natured "Bloody werewolves."

"Wait!" Lupin exclaimed to Ludo's already retreating form. "How... um... how do they know who's a werewolf?"

"Oh, they've got it all on file at St. Mungo's," Bagman replied before opening his book once again and bumbling away.

---

Dear Minister Cranwipplebury...

...Recent developments have led my closest advisors and me the conclusion that werewolves are dangerous and must be stopped - it is in our best interests to do away with every werewolf we can get our hands on - and subsequently, it is my duty to inform you of our arrangement...

...I am sure that as an educated and respected political figure, you understand the importance of protecting American civilians, magical and Muggle alike, from the dangers of werewolves, both as ferocious beasts or in their innocent-looking but dark minded and tricky human forms. Werewolves are dangerous, Minister, not necessarily during the full moon, but because even during the day, they are subhuman. For too long, werewolves have been cheating hard-working people, lying for their own profit, and dealing in shady company...

...I trust you will make the right decision in scouring your country of this plague and purifying the magical population and our humble world...

...The matter is to be kept top secret, of course, and we and all the other countries in Europe will arrest and perform euthanasia on all werewolves on the thirteenth of July, 1996...

Relentlessly,

Cornelius Fudge

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

---

Jude Cranwipplebury put down his copy of Understanding Philosophies and Guarding against Mind Control Techniques of the Third Reich on top of Dracula, which he had been attempting to read at the same time and was open on his desk. Next to them were a fair percentage of books that composed the gigantic library in the home branch of his office, most of which he was halfway in the middle of, caught up in his insatiable love of reading. Jude liked nothing more than his books; he was a well-read and intelligent man, as well as an informed Minister of Magic. The wizards and witches in America admired his wit, his intellect, and his skills as an intuitive and just leader - in short, they had not made a mistake in placing their loyalties with such a paragon of a Minister.

He pushed back his chair and yawned, and as he was about to open his mouth to call for his wife Ella, the brand-spanking-new ScriboKopy on his desk started to shake, knocking its neighbors The Hobbit and Eddie the Evil's Exhilarating Escapades (two of his all-time favorite books) to the floor. The vibrating black quill snapped up and began penning a note onto its endless supply of parchment. Jude looked on with interest; the ScriboKopy was a new gadget and one that interested him vaguely.

Jude saw as it wrote that the message was another letter from Minister Fudge in London. Then again, he reminded himself, there were very few other people it could be from. The ScriboKopy Quill had been created specifically for government officials to spread news without the tedious use of owls. Jude had been most unhappy with the switch; not only did it put many a kind owl out of work but it brought him annoying updates from that idiot Fudge much more frequently than he liked to receive them. There was something about Fudge that rubbed Jude the wrong way. They were like oil and water, he mused, or cats and dogs, or, (he smiled at this) werewolves and vampires. If that was to be believed, Jude had his part down pat, although the British Minister acted more like a veela-obsessed goblin than a blood-sucking dark creature. In any case, they didn't like each other, and it was as simple as that. Fudge thought Jude was too confident, while Jude considered Fudge too... what? Easily swayed? Forgetful? Unintuitive?

Stupid?

The ScriboKopy made a loud popping noise, signaling the letter's completion. Jude picked up the parchment and read it to himself.

Then he read it again, and once more after that. Finally, his eyes glazed and he stared at the page, a mix of disgust and disbelief making themselves apparent on his face. Jude was miffed, to say the least. He wondered with apprehension what the hell Fudge had been thinking. The sheer idiocy of it was nearly beyond his comprehension.

But he'd dealt with stupid people in hordes before, and Fudge especially had been the cause of more than a few notches on his desk.

Jude shook his head. He needed coffee. Just as he was about to open his mouth again, the door opened and in came Ella. She was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly; it was certainly not coffee, as Jude remembered immediately. She stopped and looked at her husband.

"Ah, Ella," said Jude, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Ella set down the smoking goblet, her eyes wandering between Jude, the parchment in his hand, and the copy of Eddie the Evil on the floor. "You'd best drink that right away, Jude."

"Thank you," he said again, sniffing the liquid inside. "Pity sugar makes it useless," he remarked almost to himself, taking a sip. "Well, Ella, I'd better get back to work," he told her as he looked up.

"Right." She smiled at him and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Jude drained the goblet and pulled a face. "Disgusting!" he exclaimed, putting it down and looking once again at the letter still in his hand.

He shook his head and had to suppress an amused chuckle. The irony was stupendous, really.

In any case, something told him he wouldn't be passing any anti-werewolf laws anytime soon.

---

Severus sat at his desk the next morning, paging through the first in a pile of travel brochures. That was what he was meant to be doing, at least, but he wasn't paying any attention to the task at hand. He was thinking, mostly. A lot had happened in the past few days, and most of it surprised him.

He looked around the dungeon at his office, his eyes falling on the damp stone and windowless darkness before he turned his thoughts back to his own head. Had he been here for too long? Fourteen years was a long time to go without a friend. But he had known that before, hadn't he? The sensible part of his brain knew that it may have been a bit unhealthy. On the other hand, he hadn't done much about it. What had made him act? He scratched his wrist absently, his fingers sliding over the tattoo on his forearm. Was that it? He'd had no one to talk to since the fall. Was there some timer in his head that alerted him to do something? Maybe something about him was different. The Order. That must be it. Now that he was working for Dumbledore, living the proverbial double-life of a spy... his loyalties were nowhere. Sure, he'd had somewhere to belong when there was no war, fitting in where he could and trying not to be bothered when no one accepted him, but now it seemed he was lying to everyone. There was no one in the Dark Lord's circle he could trust, and no one in Dumbledore's who would trust him. Nobody. And that only reminded more him that he needed somebody. Not a lot of somebodies, but if there was only one person who could trust him, that would be sufficient.

And who was the most likely candidate? Remus Lupin. They'd never been close at school, in fact, they couldn't have been further, but now things were a little different. They worked together in the Order. Alongside each other, even, not just for the same organization. And they were in close proximity all the time, too. With he and Black fighting and Lupin trying not to notice - but then again, who really could look the other way? Lupin was the one people talked to. When he had been a student, when he had been a teacher, and now that he was in the Order, he was always the one people could come to. He trusted people; he forgave them. In fact, he was probably the only person who would extend that magnanimity to Snape.

But it wasn't just a question of need, was it? Not only was Lupin the only one who could forgive Snape, but something else drew Severus in, too. He was the only person by whom Snape really wanted to be forgiven. Because it wasn't only that Lupin could forget things, but he could make them better. Lupin could make him forget what he had done, the people he had killed, the bitterness inside him. Everybody needs someone who can help them with that. Everyone. Snape more than others, maybe, because he had more to release. But it was still only common human vices that drew them together: the need for forgiveness, the need for trust, the need for release.

Snape wondered what made Lupin like him. It wasn't as if Lupin had any secrets to be kept, any sins to be absolved of. What did Lupin see in him? Was it kindness? Tenderness? Surely not. Snape was none of those things. Lupin, now - or Remus - he was another story. Tender to the core, he was. Specially designed for understanding problems and fixing them. Put on this earth to make people feel better. That was what he did for Severus, really, when you got down to the heart of the matter. He was kind, and forgiving, and he listened, and he kept on listening until you were done talking. And then, he would hug you. Not really hug, of course, but look at you with an expression that says, "I understand completely, and if it were prudent, I'd wrap you up in my arms."

As far as Snape could remember, he'd never been hugged in his life. The whores didn't play around with petty affection, his parents and sister had never bothered when they were alive, and his friends... well, he didn't really have any friends. It was interesting to be embraced by Remus. There wasn't much to compare it to, but he figured the look in that man's eyes was more fulfilling, and probably more significant, than any pair of arms.

That's what it was. The need to be hugged. It wasn't as ridiculous as one would think; no matter what the students thought, Snape was only human, and still hadn't managed to immune himself completely from human requirements. Warm arms, warm lips, warm looks... he needed those just as much as everyone else, even if he tried much harder to suppress it. He often went without, and that didn't bother him unduly. But it would be nice. It would be nice to have someone who lo- who liked him.

And as friends went, Lupin wouldn't be a bad one to have. He was more than Severus could ever be, that was for sure, and wasn't the secret of success to constantly be surrounded by people who are better than you? He didn't exactly know Lupin very well, but what he did know, he liked. He'd give him release from all the bitterness inside, he'd be there when he was needed, and he'd conveniently disappear when he wasn't. He'd stay by him through thick and thin, he'd comfort him, and he'd always know the right thing to say.

Yes, Severus told himself, Remus would make a good friend. Lupin was a better man than he was - he'd been through more, and learned from it. It was intimidating, almost, to be in the presence of a walking repository of wisdom, a man with the kind of understanding that normally only comes to old war veterans who sit on their porches all day, smoking, and pass along any kind of conceivable advice to grandchildren with their own problems. Lupin didn't smoke, and he didn't have grandkids. But he had been in wars, actively, even, and he wasn't exactly young anymore. Yes, it was intimidating, but in a good way. As if one day, Severus could begin to learn from him. To learn what it was that made him that way, why he was so... perfect. But for now, he was content to be stepped on if it meant being around Remus.

He was tender. He was nice. He was forgiving. He was understanding. He would trust Severus, and he would listen. He was everything a friend should be. And he wasn't a bad kisser, either, truth be told. That's... Severus struggled with it. It's... good. No, not good, because Snape didn't swing that way. But it would be... It would be an interesting side benefit, he finally admitted to himself.

And that was that, for now.

---

Snape had just reached his hasty decision when Lupin walked into his office. Getting into Hogwarts past the toad-faced cow and her Inquisitorial Squad had been no mean feat; sneaking into the basement of Honeydukes and resurfacing near the place where he had spent the best seven years of his life, aside from being tricky, had brought back a flood of memories he hadn't wanted to drag up from where they had been buried under a saltwater sea. But he had to see Severus. He had to talk to Severus and tell him...

Among other things, he had to tell him that their escape had been anticipated and cut off. It was time to start from scratch, abandoning their old plan and finding a new one with fresh hope, before it was too late and every gate had clanged shut in front of them.

The door closed behind Remus and Severus looked up. Lupin almost thought he saw a hint of a smile on Snape's face before they both averted their gazes shamefacedly.

After an empty few seconds, Remus said quietly, "They're doing it in Italy, too."

"Doing what?" Severus responded with an equal absence of volume.

Neither knew the extent of the sacred silence they hid inside with their hushed voices. They only knew that raising their tones above a calm, toneless quiet would have indicated that they had something important to say, more important than werewolves or Italy or escape plans, certainly more important than any words they might speak: anything else may as well have dissolved away so long as they held onto their awkwardness and childish hope and possibly, guilt. Neither spoke louder than the other, for neither wanted to be the first to admit there was something else on his mind.

"Killing us off," Lupin answered, still quiet. "So much for our brilliant escape plan," he said jokingly, momentarily breaking the wordless and toneless pact they had made. So much for our running away together, he thought wryly.

Snape tried to keep his first emotion, despair, hidden from the nervous man, almost as nervous as he was, standing near the doorway. Just as he frowned sheepishly and scooted his chair closer to the desk so as to keep that man from seeing something else he would find even more surprising. It wasn't much of a surprise to Snape, though; he had been dealing with that a lot lately when he was around Remus. Anyway, he tried to break the ever more awkward silence by speaking. "How do you know?" he asked.

"I talked to Ludo Bagman."

This made an ephemeral flare of jealousy rise up inside Snape. Why the hell had Lupin talked to... but he crushed the feeling as soon as he realized how stupid it was.

"But I have an idea," Remus continued, voice soft again yet growing more excited as he articulated his plan and approached Snape's desk. "We can botch up their records." Standing directly in front of Snape was the hardest thing Lupin had ever done. He quivered as the force of his emotions rebounding off his insides threatened to knock him over. He couldn't bear to be inspected by this man when everything about himself was inadequate. The thought of going anywhere and doing anything with Severus literally stopped him in his tracks for a moment- it brought on an intense rush, a mix of shock from one side and willingness from the other. When they met in the middle, in the deep pit of Remus's heart, they fizzed and bubbled, effervescing for only a millionth of a second before eating each other away completely, leaving Remus feeling numb and slightly wide-eyed and thinking Is this really happening? as the last dregs of the reactants drained from his mind. It was such a warm, fizzy feeling that he called it back again, savoring the delight of indecision that made him shiver with its intensity, and the calm after-feeling that followed. Each reaction bubbled as if in a cauldron for a fraction of a second before boiling away, so he called it back again and again, enjoying being able to change the sensations of everyday life. Now that he was close to Snape, the shock and fear solution was greatly disproportionate to the pleasure ingredient, and he found that the reaction took longer to fall away and that it made his heart beat faster, in addition to leaving him shell-shocked and so full he felt empty. Now that he had a real chance to act on his feelings and store a hundred new memories with which to relive the quiet explosion a hundred times more, Remus was afraid to get any closer.

Snape's tug back to reality stopped the reaction and terminated the shivery, adrenaline induced chill Remus had been feeling. "You want to sneak into St. Mungo's and change your medical records?" Severus asked, almost incredulous. He was having trouble meeting this man's eyes, the man who was standing in front of him, looking slightly downward at his desk. This man could see all of Severus's faults and all his babyish feelings; this man was so much more than Severus could ever amount to, this aged man with a tired face that had lines before they were due, with drained eyes that had witnessed death after death, this man with lightly graying hair that told everyone he was much, much older than he should have been, that he was too old to be young and too young to be old. This man had slept in the mud puddles of a tear-drenched earth, out on the streets tramped on by beggars and pallbearers and people with no homes or families, amid the endless smoky fog of war, and he had fervently scrubbed himself clean with years of peace and the rough, comfortable bindings of books until the dirt and tearstreaks were gone from his face, the blood from his hair, and the stale vanilla scent of smoke from his newly-mended clothes, so that only the deepest, most lasting, most painful stains remained.

This man had hands that were rough with work and yet nightly and with great care scrubbed down to the innocent pink of a baby's, hands that had tickled up and down Severus's arms and sent impulses through his body that pulled him forward with a grasping iron tug and held him back with a fleshy wall of tenderness, each so overwhelming that it crushed him in the middle and held him in place, compressing him so that he felt over and over and without relief the soft, stunned bubbliness that Remus had felt, the one that froze him where he was with shock. Only, it was always bubbling painfully and disconcertingly and never died away to produce a pleasant calmness, so that he was caught between iron passion and soft love in the excruciating, thought-wrenching pain of bitter and sweet and agonizing indecision.

This man, three feet in front of him, was close enough to see the blood pumping through his heart, close enough to hear his thoughts, close enough to know that he was thinking about him - about this man who always smelled of warm butterbeer and the dangerous forest on a moonlit night, who had a stronger build than Severus did and a more handsome body, this man with flat abdominals, with arms perfectly proportioned to wrap around him, this man with beautiful shoulders and a solid masculine neck that held up a sweet, understanding face, this man with the soft, pink, warm, delicious lips that Severus would do anything to taste one more time, that would move around his in a quiet laugh, that would spread warmth through his mouth and from there to his heart, that would press against his in happy disbelief, that would calmly and quietly shape in his mouth--

"Yes."

Severus breathed deeply and closed his eyes as if it hurt him.

Remus was looking at his weak hands, unimportant like the rest of him, he imaged, still as shy as he had recently become, so he didn't notice the reaction.

Severus bit his cheeks and licked his lips when he realized that the man had only been answering his question. The next time he blinked, his eyes opened to reveal a painful blankness despite himself and his eternally steel heart.

"Then we will," he said. Neither had raised his voice above a whisper.

Remus looked at Severus searchingly for one second. Two. He may have been about to say something - he couldn't tell, as he had no control over his mouth - but neither he nor Snape would ever find out. It was then that they heard distant but approaching footsteps in the hallway. Without finishing his thought, Remus left, compelling them both to take deep breaths and try to blink away the dust or pollen that must have been the reason their eyes were acting funny. Yes, it must have been that allergies were kicking in and had made them blink, and then had somehow fought their way towards, and were tugging at, their shielded hearts.

---

"This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix will come to order." Dumbledore raised his voice over all the other ones in the kitchen at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Alastor snickered at the pun. Kingsley glared at him. Everyone else turned their attention to Dumbledore.

"First order of business-"

This time Sirius joined Alastor in laughing.

"-is Occlumency." Everyone shut up at that. Dumbledore turned to Snape and said, "Why did you stop tutoring Harry?" Snape scowled but said nothing.

"Severus." he prompted. Severus bit back, "Potter is an aardvark-faced tosser with four eyes and a beetle's brain" and said instead, "Potter and I had a misunderstanding."

Sirius, who knew perfectly well what the clash had been about, smiled again at hearing it, while Dumbledore sighed and gave Severus a Meaningful Look, and then didn't meet his eye again for the rest of the evening.

---

"Remus." Albus approached the tired-eyed wizard as everyone was leaving.

"Sir?"

Instead of a verbal answer, the headmaster handed Remus a thin pamphlet of paper. He inclined his head toward Severus, who was rearranging a number of vials and bottles in his pockets over and over again, stalling nervously, and Dumbledore winked as he Apparated away with a sharp Pop.

Remus looked at Snape for a moment longer than was necessary, and then at the paper in his hand.

It was a floor plan of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Albus Dumbledore had read his mind.

He walked slowly over to the corner where the potions master was standing. The Weasleys and Sirius had left; they were the only people still in the room. "Look what I've got," Remus said. Severus blinked - he hid his anticipation well.

And was almost disappointed when Lupin showed him the blue papers. "Records room is on the ground floor," he said.

"I know," Remus answered. He opened the paper and read the small print: "Ground Floor. Artifact Accidents Wing."

"That would be the exploding cauldrons and feisty talking mirrors."

"I know," Remus said again, blankly. Severus looked up expectantly, although expecting what, he didn't know.

"Talking mirrors." Severus glanced at Remus. "I think I have a plan."