Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Chapter Five: Old Ghosts

In which Neville wibbles, Remus feel better, two young, heterosexual people are in love, a character has writers block, someone has a normal conversation, we learn about the dangers of smoking, and Gilderoy Lockhart is perpetually oblivious.

Severus opened the drawer of the file cabinet; the first folder in it was labeled Lockhart, Gilderoy.

He smirked as he decided he had time to get a little bit sidetracked and carefully extracted the file.

---

"Come right along this way." The medi-wizard had located Remus and was now escorting him up a wide staircase. "Were you injured in the explosion?"

"Oh, no," Remus replied, smiling brightly. "I've never been better!"

"I'm glad to hear it," said the medi-wizard, smiling. "Now, I'd like you to wait in here while we get ready to fix your hand."

"Certainly," Lupin beamed. "Sounds wonderful." Now that he'd created the distraction Snape needed, he planned to be as obedient as possible until Severus had finished and they could sneak out somehow. He hadn't, however, counted on being asked to stay in a room marked Psych Therapy Ward.

Perhaps he'd put his act on a little too well.

---

Jude looked at his paper sideways chewed on the end of his quill.

Dear Minister Fudge, he began to write, and then tapped his feet a few times on the floor.

A bird whistled at the sinking sun outside. A car roared past - probably a Muggle going home from work. Jude fought the urge to look out the window, until it beat him and he turned in his chair.

There were some really interesting dots on the pane of glass. They looked like... clouds. Or feathers. Jude started sucking on his pen again.

He stopped, put his quill down, and drained his mug of coffee with a sigh.

---

Snape read studiously.

October 17, 1971. Hospitalized for serious non- and magical injuries.

-Jellylegs hex

-Multiple eye stalks growing from forehead

-Slug vomiting

-Bloody nose

-Swelled head charm

-Sprained left pinkie

-Webbed hands

-Concussion

Caused by wizarding duel. No lasting damage. Released October 18, 1971.

The only other entry was on June 26, 1992. Snape didn't bother to read it, opting instead to grimace at the memory of the year the Basilisk had roamed Hogwarts.

He replaced the file and shuffled through the rest, looking for Lupin, Remus.

---

The one person that Lupin definitely hadn't expected to see was Gilderoy Lockhart. It stands to reason, then, that Lockhart was the person he came face to face with as soon as he stepped inside the ward.

While Remus was putting to sleep the fake allure, Lockhart was turning on his own.

"Who are you?" he asked with as much ostentatious belligerence as he could muster.

"The name's Lupin. I believe we've met." Remus remembered it quite well. They had been kids, Remus eleven and Lockhart sixteen, both of them Gryffindors. There had been some kind of snide remark in the hallways ("That bookworm is going to get stepped on the next time it rains") and then an impressive fight. Lockhart being a total idiot and Lupin a gifted Defense student, they had made it a very close duel. Not strictly a wizarding duel, really; they had used any nearby furniture and their bare fists as well as magic.

They had both ended up at St. Mungo's overnight. That's not to say it was more than Madam Pomfrey could handle, as she was out of town for the weekend, but it had been treated seriously all the same. It was not an encounter, nor an acquaintance, that Lupin would be forgetting anytime soon.

Lockhart, on the other hand, had no recollection of it.

"We have?" Lockhart responded. "Ah, I remember now. You were the photographer at my last book signing!"

"That's right." Lupin let him believe it. His enmity with this man hadn't exactly died down after that fight; he still didn't like him and didn't want them to spend any extended amount of time together.

"Have I showed you where I'm staying?" Lockhart continued.

"Yes, and it's lovely."

"Let's go see it again, shall we?"

Before Lupin could object, Lockhart had grabbed hold of his sleeve and was dragging him rather tenaciously out the door. Despite himself, Remus went along with it, letting Lockhart lead him up another flight of stairs and along the corridor to the Closed Ward.

---

Lupin, Remus. Snape opened the file folder and looked at the contents with interest.

The first entry was dated July 5, 1968. That was the day Remus had been admitted to St. Mungo's for a mysterious-looking bite he had been loathe to point out. That was the day his fate had been sealed. That day had caused him to be treated like a sub-human everywhere he went, at every job he applied for, and maybe even by his best friends. Now that day could very well spell his death.

That wasn't fair. But, Snape supposed, life wasn't fair. Snape was caught up for a moment in the fact that a few simple words on a page could change someone's life so much.

The next entry amused him as much as the first one had stilled him.

October 17, 1971. Hospitalized for serious non- and magical injuries.

-Bat Bogey hex

-Jittery fingers curse

-Concussion

-Regurgitation hex

-Black eye

-Hallucination hex

-Tantallegra curse

Caused by wizarding duel. No lasting damage. Released October 18, 1971.

So Lupin had gotten into a fight with Lockhart, then. Snape didn't have to think very long before the cause of it came to him.

And from there, it wasn't difficult to realize the reason Lockhart had gone into Defense Against the Dark Arts. Well, maybe. Had lycanthropy really made him make such a dramatic career decision? Did anybody really hate werewolves that much?

Yes, he knew. People did.

---

Jude's quill had long ago been bitten to pieces. He had a way with words (how else had he worked his way to the top?) but the letter he was trying to write couldn't have been resisting him any more. Fudge's request was out of line, and he wanted to make sure the man knew that. But a nasty letter wouldn't be good for relations, of course. Any ruler would know better than to be too harsh. He put his mess of a quill down and sat back in his desk chair, looking out the window on the left side of his office and sipping coffee contentedly. It had been a long day: a meeting with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the morning; a charity luncheon at the Wizarding Soup kitchen in New York along with the unveiling of a new playground outside; an encounter with a hysterical Muggle woman whom he had reunited with a missing child; a fight with his chief advisor, who thought it would be acceptable to spend too much on the Ministry limousines; daily reports to read from Security HQ; and now this ridiculous proposal Fudge had sent him the day before. It was giving him a lot of trouble; having had 24 hours to think, he still didn't know what to write. All he wanted to do was to go home and sit down to dinner with Ella and their children. He would ask them about their schoolwork, he would volunteer to take them to the Magical Creatures Zoo. He would kiss them goodnight and finish Eddie the Evil, sipping tea, or maybe brandy, with Ella in front of the fire.

Being the Minister of Magic was hard. He loved his jobs and how many people he could help at once, he really did, but the stress was getting to him. If he recalled correctly, he hadn't even wanted to be elected. The people just loved him; that was all. They had practically insisted that he run for office. There was a heartening thought.

A black-haired head with a round face appeared in the fireplace. "Minister?" it asked.

He put on a smile for Rose, the intelligent young Auror whom he bumped into sometimes when refilling his coffee. "Hello, Rose," he said warmly. "What can I do for you?"

"I found a letter in my inbox addressed to you, Sir. I don't know what it was doing there."

"Thank you," he said, going to the fireplace to take the letter she held out with a floating arm.

"Any time," Rose laughed. "Did you hear about the Cougars-Flamebursts game this afternoon?"

"I did," he replied, mimicking the voice of the commentator. "Apparently Pinkerton made three breathtaking saves in four minutes."

Rose nodded as best she could. "The Flamebursts usually rely on him, but this game was all about Codswinton's skills as a beater. And," she amended, "Millby's spectacular catching of the snitch."

"It was a fluke," Jude insisted.

"So it was a fluke that they won 470-80?"

"Absolutely. That, and the best chaser the Cougars have ever seen was out with a sprained wrist."

Rose smiled again. "You think that, Jude. We'll show you when the Flamebursts knock the Humdingers right out of the sky next week."

"I don't know about that, Rose. Do you think we should put some money on it?"

"Not money," Rose insisted happily. "A dare. But can we decide later? I have a date with Parker I should be getting ready for."

This made the smile that had been building up inside Jude form on his lips. "Good. You have fun," he told her. He knew for a fact that Parker had purchased a diamond ring from Jason Finbleby's Fine Jewelry the past week, and laughed with excitement at the prospect. It made Rose laugh, too; Jude had that effect on people. "I wouldn't want to hold you up," he told Rose as she disappeared. "And congratulations," he whispered to the now normal fire after she had gone. He fingered the letter in his hand.

---

Severus scanned quickly through the rest of the papers in Lupin's folder; there were a few other incidences, things like flying accidents and a bad case of the hoochie coochies.¹ Despite himself, Snape made sure to check for any Muggle health problems. There were none. Remus had, virtually, never been sick a day in his life, other than once every month, although that, of course, wasn't mentioned in the records. It was really quite a lot, Snape supposed, his lips quirking, and it was almost annoyingly feminine of Lupin. He remembered how his sister had used to complain about that, every month, - Spartan she was not - before she had died at sixteen. Of course, he had had no idea what she was talking about, only having been four, at most, when that happened. He couldn't quite remember; his parents had stopped talking about her after she was gone.

Snape, against his better judgment, began to pull out memories he had been hiding and examined them for the first time in years. His mother had commented that she stopped complaining, to put it politely, and Severus had had no idea what she meant. Their father had quaked with anger. He had hit her, punched her in the face, and locked her up like he often did, only that time she was on the opposite side of the door than he was. Severus had heard her crying, heard her throwing up. He really hadn't known what was happening, no more than that Daddy was hurting Lissie again.

Then she had died. He could still picture it clearly in his mind, the punches and the shouts that night. They were brought back to him too often; every painful memory in his life could be traced back to how Lissie had disappeared without his mind supplying an explanation. He missed his big sister.

The realizations, one after the other, hit Snape directly in the face. She had killed herself. Yes, that must have been it. She had been all bloody; she had slit her wrists. No, that wasn't it, it was her shirt that had been soaked with blood. The night her parents had found out she was... She had stabbed herself. She had stabbed herself in the stomach. When they finally found out she was pregnant.

Snape shuddered to think about it.

He thought of the blood on her clothes, the tears on her face. In the midst of his sickening recollection, his first rational thought was What a bastard her boyfriend must have been. Snape tried to recall what he was like. Tall? Was he mean? Did he hit her, too?

Snape realized with a shock that he had never met the man. That was why their parents were so upset, he reasoned. A daughter of theirs, getting knocked up by some creep they had never met. But no, that wasn't it. There was something naggling at the back of his brain and telling him that what he wanted to believe wasn't true. He didn't know how he knew, but he was very sure... he hit them so hard ...

No. Not. Yes, that was it. And no, it couldn't... he had... no, Severus quaked at the thought. No one would... could... it was wrong.

Yes, she had killed herself because she was pregnant. Because she was pregnant by--

Snape buried his face in his hands.

---

Eden frowned at the whimpers she heard inside. Was everything okay?

She lit a cigarette, inhaled, and coughed.

---

Dear Minister Cranwipplebury, (the letter said,)

If you judge that there is a more fitting recipient for this letter, I entreat you to pass it on to him. I am writing on behalf of two esteemed teachers here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As I understand it, Merrmardikans Academy of Magic is experiencing an influx of students and has some teaching positions open.

Professors Severus Snape and Remus Lupin are exceptionally talented in (respectively) Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were each at one time employed by me. However, it has come to my attention that they are making plans to relocate to the United States. As they are both quite devoted to their art and will be looking for jobs once they arrive, I am taking the liberty of alerting you of their skills without their knowledge. Enclosed are the resumes of both; I urge you and the Headmaster of Merrmardikans to consider them for teaching positions. While I realize...

Jude read the letter from Dumbledore with interest. It wasn't his job to decide things like this, true, but in his opinion, new teachers were everyone's business, what with the teacher shortages and swelling class sizes. Merrmardikans had almost 2000 students; he couldn't see the harm in hiring a couple of new teachers, especially two respectable ones such as these. Snape, he remembered reading somewhere, was an eminent potions master - he would be a real asset.

Besides, Dumbledore was not far from his heart as a sensible, intuitive man. Indeed, when they had met a few years ago at an international conference, Jude had warmed up to him immediately. He could trust Dumbledore's opinions on the matter.

If Dumbledore said they were worth an interview, Jude knew, then they were worth an interview.

But why were they leaving England?

Jude noticed the postscript on the back.

P.S. You may be wondering why they are leaving their jobs here. Recent legislation in Britain, which I trust you have some knowledge of, unfairly presents a threat to Mr. Lupin's life. As a so-called half-breed, his social standing and his survival are in jeopardy at the hands of the government. America is and always has been more liberal with its policies, so I trust that he will be able to live safely there. Mr. Snape, while not suffering from the same condition as Mr. Lupin, is a close friend of his and is eager to accompany him. They are inseparable and Snape is willing to move to the United States in order for the arrangement to work.

The letter shook in his hands. Unbelievable.

Un. Fucking. Believable.

A werewolf. Dumbledore was recommending a werewolf for a teaching post at Merrmardikans. A werewolf!

What a brilliant idea, Jude thought. Perhaps a bit risky, but there were precautions that could be taken. Jude knew all about those.

He was happily surprised that Dumbledore knew him so well. He knew about Jude's liberal stance and had predicted his positive reaction.

Hell, Jude thought, Dumbledore probably knows I'm a werewolf. Smart man, he was. The smartest Jude had ever met.

Brilliant. This was a friend he was glad to have.

He wanted to keep a copy of this letter for himself. He took out a fresh sheet of parchment and began to compose a letter to headmaster Silmaril.

What an interesting day it had been.

---

With a brisk and supercilious glare at an empty stretch of wall, Severus shook himself out of his state and took a firm hold on his mind.

That was all, he reminded himself, getting back to the task at hand. No flu. No contagious diseases.

Lupin would never invade his privacy like this, true, but Snape had to know. Lupin hadn't expected him to be fair, had he? Why it was so important to Snape, he couldn't have said, even though it might have been obvious to anyone who thought about it.

He checked one last time for anything else he was worried about. No HIV. No AIDS. Nothing of the sort. Good. So that was out of the way. Out of the way of... of nothing in particular, really. Snape turned back to the job at hand.

The only page of the file that mentioned Lupin's being a werewolf, he noticed upon examination, was the first, and the only other sign was a red tag stapled to the front of the sheaf. Snape ripped that off first. His job seemed pretty straightforward; all he had to do was find some paper and start copying. He already had an inkwell and quill. But where could he find... right. A desk over there, by the wall. Stacked with blank parchment. This was probably what it was for, he divined. Okay, then. He walked purposefully toward the desk, folder in hand, and picked up a carefully trimmed piece of parchment.

He had just managed to stuff it in his pocket before the alarm went off.

---

Remus realized the instant before the door opened just whom he would see inside. Frank and Alice. Frank and Alice Longbottom. Oh, God. He hadn't seen them in 15 years; he had visited them at St. Mungo's only once.

He did not want to think about what had happened to them now.

It was when Lockhart cheerfully opened the door that Remus met his periodic ration of deus ex machina. He had not stepped over the threshold before he bumped into none other than Neville Longbottom.

Neville. He froze. It was Neville, having just visited his crippled parents.

And if Lupin was slightly surprised, Neville could not have been more shocked to see two succeeding ex-professors outside. He greeted them as best he could. "Hello, Professor Lockhart. Professor Lupin."

"Professor? Me?" Lockhart looked bewildered.

"Hello, Neville," was Remus's more coherent reply. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," was all Neville opted to say as Lockhart disappeared obliviously inside.

Remus favored Neville with a look that Neville supposed could have been sorrow, or worse, pity.

Whatever Neville was thinking, Remus knew, it wasn't exactly optimistic. He could sense that much from the expression on his face, from the dip of his shoulders, and from the tone of his voice. Neville needed someone to talk to, and the person who listens to people talk had always been him.

---

Neville was thankful to see Professor Lupin there. He always left his parents room feeling crushed and despairing, yet filled with a sense of pride, grown from his grandmother's insistence, that His Parents Were Brave And Important. That pride, though, was ruled by indignance at the fact that their sacrifices had got them no further in life. He knew from the bottom of his heart that those things weren't fair. He did not have a normal life with a loving mum and dad. His parents were confined to a windowless hospital room for the remainder of their life, despite the fact that they deserved that fate less than anyone. That was not poetic justice.

Lupin, though, may have understood that. Not through experience or through listening to Neville speak, but because that's just who he was: he saw everything, every nuance, every imagined or real problem or complaint that people had. He understood. Lupin had always been one of Neville's favorite teachers. Although he had been fond of Harry, Lupin had been equally kind and understanding - intuitive, almost - towards everyone. He had always been caring, a good listener, maybe a bit sensitive. But he knew what was wrong, and he cared, and Neville, more than anything, wanted now to sit down and talk with him.

No sooner had Neville forced out his nonchalant "I'm okay," than he realized he couldn't have been further from it. The alleged improvement he had been told about over Christmas was false; his parents weren't doing any better. It was a dirty, below-the-belt blow, perfectly aimed at his dying hope, working with his failing Defense Against the Dark Arts marks and Hermione's refusal to accompany him to Hogsmeade to sink his attitude lower than he could handle.

Sometimes his problems seemed small compared to the woes of the rest of the world. But not today. Today, they were disproportionately depressing, and no one had more unfair a life than he. Today, he felt like he wanted simply to sit down and sulk with the despair only an abandoned teen can possess.

"Are you sure, Neville?" Professor Lupin asked quietly.

"It's not fair," he mumbled, trying not to fall apart.

Lupin regarded him piercingly for a moment before he conceded sorrowfully, "I know."

Neville said nothing, simply enjoying the other man's patience. Gently, Lupin led him to a bench along the wall and sat them both down. He could feel a silent, tranquil gaze that eased him into a comfort that would let him speak. "The nurse said they were getting better. But they found out it was nothing." He could hear his subdued voice going up a key at the end; he could almost feel his lip quivering. Neville knew he was upset too much over little things like this. He always seemed on the verge of tears.

"Neville, I'm very sorry," Lupin said. There. That what he had been aching to hear, not a recitation of his parents' medical history like he had been getting from everyone else. He relaxed a little bit. Things were starting to get better, if only slightly. But that wasn't where Lupin stopped. "I used to know them," he told the boy. "We were good friends. I was only just out of Hogwarts, but they were fully trained Aurors, the best I've ever seen. They were - are - heroes. They contributed so much to the fight against Voldemort-"

Neville didn't flinch.

"-And they loved you more than anything. If they're never able to be like that again, Neville," Lupin wound up, "You still really have something to be proud of."

Neville had heard it all before: the praise and the testaments that his parents were good Aurors, heroes even. But never from someone whom he knew actually meant it. His filial pride swelled up to full proportions, and he smiled. Defense with Umbridge somehow didn't seem too important, what with the D.A.

And suddenly Hermione wasn't actually good enough for him, anyway.

Neville changed the subject, feeling better and knowing he had been drawn in by Lupin's caring approach. "What would you do if there was a girl that didn't like you?"

"What girl?" Neville could have sworn his ex-professor almost laughed.

"Hermione Granger," he said sullenly.

"Do you know she doesn't like you, or haven't you asked?" Lupin seemed genuinely interested. Or at least, genuinely willing to help.

"No. But it's just that she's so bossy and smart. And I'm not," Neville said woefully, looking down at his hands.

"That's not the worst problem there is," Lupin assured him. "For all your opposites, you must have something in common. Don't stop trying."

"Okay," said Neville, with no conviction. Hermione's sharpness, her cold certainty and her hot fervor, her caring for house-elf rights, and worst of all, her nonexistent sense of humor were more than Neville believed he could overcome.

"I mean it," Lupin encouraged. "Opposites attract. You can make it work with her."

Neville nodded, still looking at his hands. The man cared, at least, even if he was wrong. Which maybe he wasn't, after all. Hadn't Hermione kind of almost smiled when he perfected that Impedimenta hex? "Maybe you're right." Neville met Lupin's eyes. "Thank you for listening, Professor." Lupin only gave him a kind smile. "I guess I should go now." Neville stood. "Oh..." his eyes trailed to the bench he had been sitting on, and then along the floor to the door of the Ward. He looked sheepish. "I've forgotten my scarf. I-"

"I'll get it for you, Neville," said Lupin, and stood up and quickly entered the Ward. Neville was thankful he had been spared seeing his parents again, and he had the feeling Lupin knew it. He loved them immensely, but it was difficult to deal with, especially alone, and Gran had already disappeared downstairs. A small smile lingering on his face, he waited by the door for Professor Lupin to return.

---

Remus wasn't stupid. He realized as soon as he left Neville that what he had told the boy could apply just as well to his own dilemma. He and Snape were opposites, he knew, but maybe it was best just to go for it. Besides, they had the added advantage of already having kissed.

He felt he had just learned a Lesson. The conversation could have been a turning point in one of those clichéd but fun and educational juvenile novels, he mused. It could have been the part where the protagonist realizes he has been lying to himself. As a result, he decides to change his approach and attitude so that everyone can live happily ever after. The character comes to terms with his lack of confidence and his unyielding denial and looks at things from a more open-minded and hopeful perspective. Well, it could have come from a trashy novel, if there were any sort of appreciation whatsoever for hyped-up stories about gay Hogwarts professors.

Unlikely.

And also, he wasn't gay. Just... interested. Somewhat. Somewhat interested. In a man. Who was smart. And looked good. Yeah. Kind of. A little.

Definitely not gay, though.

The theme, however, hit him hard. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that it wasn't like that. Like that. Maybe he shouldn't be so sure it's just ordinary interest. Opposites attract. He was lying to himself. Things could work. His thoughts whirled.

He began to think that maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should stop ignoring the fact that Severus had kissed him first. Maybe there was cause for him not to give up on whatever was currently happening between them. Maybe... Anything, maybe.

Anything.

Remus stopped reflecting on his situation and saw the scarf almost immediately. It had fallen right in the middle of the floor. He didn't know how Neville could have lost it, but then again, Neville surprised Lupin in many ways. Remus smiled upon seeing it; the colors were the familiar Gryffindor red and gold. Of course. Neville was a Gryffindor, just like Frank and Alice had been. Frank and Alice. It was a pity, he knew, it really was. They had been heroes. And now they were nobodies.

He realized with a wrench of his heart that they were also sitting on identical beds not ten feet from him.

He greeted them solemnly, inclining his head. "Hello, Alice. Frank."

Frank stared blankly at him. Unnerved, he looked at Alice. She was the kind one, the forgetful one, but as brave and skilled as Lily and James had been. Both of them were, really. That showed up in Neville. Well, he amended, the bravery did, and the skill would make an appearance soon. Alice waved at him and smiled. Remus wondered if she recognized him. No, of course she didn't. Her world was hazy, he had been told. They didn't remember people. They didn't talk. If only we had showed up to rescue them ten minutes earlier. If only the hospital had the knowledge to heal them. If only they recognized their son, Remus thought with regret. If only this didn't happen. If only...

Remus smiled sadly and picked up the Gryffindor scarf.

Frank and Alice Longbottom were stuck in a life without memories. He was doomed to always be on the defensive, taking heat from anybody who found out about his lycanthropy. Sirius was locked in a house he would never be able to leave. Neville had no way to show everyone the intelligence and courage he had inherited. Harry had been pinned with a double-edged responsibility since before he could walk. Snape had never been forgiven by society for the Mark on his arm. The list went on and on.

He stepped outside.

---

"Thank you, Professor." Neville was immensely grateful he hadn't had to go back inside, which, he felt, was probably why Lupin had done him the favor in the first place.

His teacher smiled warmly. "Don't mention it, Neville. I'm glad we talked."

"I am, too," said Neville, and he meant it. "Bye." He walked lightly down the hall and through the arched doorway leading to the winding stairwell.

Lupin, convinced things were going to take a turn for the better, walked away, humming and feeling noticeably more cheerful as well.

As things were getting better for him, though, he knew they weren't improving much for anyone else. Neville, Sirius, Harry, Severus - they all still had their own problems. Lupin sighed pensively.

Life wasn't fair.