Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Chapter Nine, Part I: The Beginning of the End

In which Sirius has a panic attack, Lucius is snooty, Remus is clueless, Snape rants, and Dumbledore knows everything.

Seven days later:

"What's this?" Lupin was at Sandust Books¹ in London when he received a letter from a frazzled owl. Minutes later, he had Apparated back to Grimmauld Place and was reading it aloud for Sirius, who was taking great pleasure in carving stick figures engaged in immoral acts on the oak kitchen table.

"Dear Mr. Lupin," he grazed through it. "We are pleased to inform you that..." he trailed off as he read faster and faster, undeterred by Sirius's complete lack of interest. "Merlin's Beard!" he said in wonder, looking up. "They're offering me a job!"

"Who is?" Sirius put down his knife

"A school in America." There was a stunned silence, and then--

"Why? Why're you going to America? You didn't tell me you were applying for a job abroad!"

"I didn't know," Lupin said honestly.

"So they found you?"

"Apparently Dumbledore put in a good word for me," he answered, checking the letter.

"But why would he think you'd leave?" Sirius was stumped. Remus, however, had some ideas as to what Dumbledore could have been thinking, and they tumbled about in his head as he stared pensively at the floor.

Completely unexpectedly, the man in question appeared a few moments later in the center of the room with a fantastic burst of smoke. Neither wizard bothered to ask how in Merlin's name he had gotten there. Dumbledore beamed at them.

"Remus, I see you got an answer to the owl I sent to Minister Cranwipplebury. Good news, I expect?"

Remus looked at him, and said earnestly, "I appreciate it, Albus, but we've got it worked out. Severus and I changed the records at St. Mungo's."

Sirius tried to act like he wasn't listening and picked up his knife again.

A sad look came over Dumbledore, and he regarded Lupin in silence. "When?" he asked finally.

Lupin was slightly surprised. If he had been expecting anything, that wasn't it. "Last week," he said, frowning. "Why do you ask?"

Dumbledore paused, but before he could answer, the doorbell rang. Slowly, Sirius put down his knife once more and left to answer it. Moments later, Snape strode in and said, "I assume you got one, too?"

"A letter?"

"What else?"

Lupin looked at Dumbledore, still slightly confused. The headmaster sat down at the long, oak table and began to explain. "I do not envy your predicament, boys. I am trying to help you get out of it, as best I can. I was probably hasty in writing to the American Minister of Magic, but I do not regret it. You see, Sirius told me about your plans to escape to Italy, and while I was initially surprised at your determination, it became obvious to me that there was no way either of you could stay here, and thus no way that you, Severus, could continue working at Hogwarts." He took a breath.

"But we don't have to leave!" Lupin cried. "We fixed--"

"It soon occurred to me however," Dumbledore interrupted, "that Italy would not work either. In fact, I learned that the only place you will be safe is the United States. Since I know the both of you are preoccupied, I took the liberty of trying to secure jobs for you. I see you've both received letters from Merrmardikans, now tell me, are they interested in employing you?"

"Yes," Lupin said blankly, and Snape repeated him. "But Professor, we figured it out! We--"

"No, we didn't." This time it was Snape who interrupted quietly. Lupin turned on him. "What are you talking about? I saw you with the file, you told me you got inside the records room, that you didn't get caught--"

"We were too late, Remus," Snape said quietly, and Lupin was still. "They checked the records the day before we got there. They already know you're a werewolf, Lupin."

His words hit Lupin as harshly as Eden's had hit Snape. They clanged coldly in his heart; it was as if his hope had turned out to be a steel trap. There was a dead silence for a moment. "Oh," was all Lupin managed to say. His voice was quiet and hollow. "So, we," he licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed. "We hide out here. They won't find us."

"No. I won't let myself be imprisoned like Black. I'm not staying inside for the rest of my life. I--"

"You don't have to," Lupin said, exasperated. "I'm the werewolf here."

"And I won't let you stay locked up, Lupin," said Snape, his sneer disappearing against his soft words. "You can't be a prisoner, either."

There was a long silence, after which Lupin finally said, "So what now? We leave the country and never come back? We live in the wilderness?"

"We go to America, you twat." An odd look came over Remus and for a moment, Snape was scared that he might start crying. But no, he reminded himself, the man wasn't like that, not for their seven years at Hogwarts and not since. Only when it concerned Snape did he break down. Severus felt fleetingly important.

Remus regained himself from shock quickly and the stutter left his words. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had other things on my mind."

Lupin was about to get angry, but then he remembered what had gone on the night they got back from St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore cut in at that point. "I recommend that you reply to the letters quickly. The edict is to be executed on the thirteenth of July, so you should leave shortly after the end of the term. I ask that you do not leave before then, as..."

---

Sirius stopped listening through the keyhole of the kitchen door as Dumbledore continued to advise them on what to do and when, and bade Remus goodbye, as it was probably the last time they would see each other for quite a while. He sank instead to the floor and waited to the shock to wash over him. It didn't. In fact, it all felt rather familiar; he should have realized this, or maybe even predicted it beforehand. Remus and Snape were involved with each other. Remus and Snape were running from the law - only unlike him, they were together. Remus and Snape cared more about each other than they did about him. Remus and Snape were retreating to America - together. That one did hit him hard; it went against what his self-security had been built around. Wasn't Snivellus always supposed to be the one left out? Snape was meant to be an anti-social creep, his purpose in life nothing more than keeping to his greasy self and feeling miserable and being the butt of their jokes. Sirius had made sure of that his whole life: he had good friends, Snape had none at all. But now Moony was deserting, running off with the mangy git as if Cupid had lost a bet. And here was Sirius, without real friends around him, with no one to talk to, with no one to help him make fun of Snape, stuck in this goddamn prison while his best friend was off seeing the world and fucking his worst enemy senseless on his couch and forgetting Sirius Padfoot Black had ever been born.

No, he chided himself, taking a deep breath. Sirius knew that wasn't fair. He knew it was - Snape was treating Remus like a fool, tricking him into tagging along - just some forgotten resentment inside him - kissing shamelessly in the middle of the hallway of my house - and - even that cur gets more action than me - that he had no right to accuse Remus, - getting into trouble at St. Mungo's and not involving me - or even Snape, - the greasy slime ball who looked at Lily the wrong way - for that matter, of deserting, even if they were, even if they were abandoning him alone in a would-be prison with only a bloody hippogriff for company. He told himself they were only doing what they had to do, with their lives in danger; he knew somewhere inside him that it was the only choice.

He also knew that when Moony disappeared in a few weeks, they may never see each other again.

Sirius barely managed to scramble out of the way as Snape opened the door and strode forcefully up to the vestibule. He tried very hard to stop himself burying his face in his hands.

---

"Minister." The slow, cool voice shocked Fudge out of a momentary trance; he glanced up to see the blonde-haired Lucius Malfoy gazing at him superciliously. This was always a good sign; it meant gold would soon be passed to him, somehow. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy." Fudge stood up and pumped the man's hand. "What can I do for you?"

"I have some rather distressing news, Cornelius," he said as they seated themselves. "One of my sources has discovered that a certain dangerous werewolf has found out about the edict and is making plans to escape."

"Nonsense," said Fudge immediately. "Escape to where?"

"The States." Malfoy did not look away from Fudge's face as he spoke.

"Well, we can't have that." It did not occur to Fudge that if this werewolf was out of Britain, it was out of his hair. He was rather more interested in the thoroughness of his genocide than the reasoning behind it. "We'll just have to stop him at the border."

"Exactly my thoughts, Minister."

"Good. Good. What's the man's name?"

"Remus Lupin," said Malfoy distastefully. Fudge scowled when he heard it; he looked even less happy when Malfoy told him that Lupin was probably working for Dumbledore. Fudge didn't doubt it; Lupin had worked at Hogwarts and besides, Malfoys always told the truth.

"I'll look into it," he said as Lucius prepared to leave. It was his favorite line for getting people to leave him alone.

"Good."

"Wait," Cornelius changed his mind. "How do you know?"

A shadow of a smile crossed Malfoy's face. "That, Minister, I am afraid I cannot tell you." And with a graceful yet foreboding swish of his black robes, he left Fudge's office and slammed the door ostentatiously behind him.

---

"Here's the deal," Lupin said, settling into an armchair across from Snape the next weekend. "We have to use Floo powder - anything else is completely impractical - and so we have to go through the Floo Hub. They're likely to have a lookout for us, or at least search the travel records, so we use fake names. Disguises. What have you. Anything so they don't catch us."

"Right," Snape picked up. "Once we're in America, we will be safe. There are no werewolf laws there, so Fudge can't pursue us."

"Right. And we rent an apartment and keep ourselves occupied until the start of term."

"Right." His lips quirked. "And live happily ever after."

Lupin smiled. Snape had been listening when he had spilled the story of his hopelessly romantic background. "Right."

"When?"

"Any time after end of term, but before July the thirteenth."

"Right. And our luggage?"

"We'll have to send it ahead."

"Right." A pensive look came over Snape. "I'm really leaving Hogwarts," he mused.

"I know, Severus." Remus said patiently. "We're leaving England."

Snape didn't appear to have heard. "I've lived there since I was eleven."

Lupin saw immediately what Snape meant: even in the summer, Hogwarts had been his home.

And it hadn't been a very hospitable one, either, Lupin knew; he had been teased relentlessly by Sirius and James and Peter and yes, by him; by big kids, little kids, other Slytherins, his own best friends. How bad was his life at home, then, to be unfavorable to Hogwarts? Lupin's train of thought took him further: if they had each been so horrible, then Snape had never really been happy. Ever. His entire existence, Remus thought morbidly, had been a maelstrom of pain and rejection that grew worse and worse.

"At least you can come back," Remus said quietly.

"No, Lupin," he replied solemnly. "No, I can't."

Lupin frowned, but he understood this, too. Snape wouldn't leave him alone in a new life.

The man kept talking, reflectively, as if he was only now examining the way he had felt nineteen years ago. "It felt so strange, to leave when I was seventeen. I didn't like it there, not in the least, but it was my home. My only home." He glanced at Lupin, and the man nodded encouragingly. "And when I started teaching, it became a part of me even more. No one welcomed me back, and no one was glad to see me. But I was glad to be there, regardless. The only places in the world that didn't repel me completely were the Hogwarts dungeons. That's where I belong: at Hogwarts, surrounded by vials and canisters of bats' blood and shredded Devil's snare. I need to be somewhere where the air is cool and smoky and isn't filled with other voices most of the time. It was where I had to go to hide." He looked up and saw Remus watching him intently, understanding it in that insightful way of his, absorbing his every word with utmost sincerity. He continued, "I didn't even mind those horrible children. Really, I was no less insufferable than they, at one point. I just wanted them all to love potions as much as I did. Do. Or not love them, perhaps, but venerate them, Lupin. To be completely fascinated by the magical properties, to understand the beauty at their core. Nothing infuriates me, Lupin, nothing disappoints me, nothing strikes me as much as a person who is completely uninspired by that kind of intrinsic beauty, that contained power." Snape dropped his voice and persisted quietly, still as if he were discovering something within himself as he spoke. "And I suppose I just wanted them to be like me. I wanted them to need to run away, too. It isn't fair that they had nothing to hide from, is it? It isn't fair for me to be the only one. It isn't fair that nobody suffers like I did anymore. They should have to, Remus, I swear, their lives are too perfect." His voice began to break up as he continued. "I was tired of being alone there, hidden away. I shouldn't have been the only one who had to do that, or who had to care about potions. Someone should have wanted to share. They should have wanted to help. Anybody. Anybody who was like me, who had a miserable life like I did. Just so that I wouldn't have had to be alone. If any of them could only have been unhappy, they could have learned to love what I love. Learned to love..." He stopped himself just before he said it. "They could have hidden away with me, we could have been miserable together, but no, no, they're too good for that, they're too perfect, they had to go and be happy so that I would be alone," he ended with bitterness in his voice. His throat hurt from pushing back tears as he finally spoke his mind for the first person in his life that was able to draw it out of him: Lupin could make him come to terms with the words he had been holding back and the rationalization that Snape himself hadn't understood.

Lupin spoke quietly, sensing there was more - he did not want to scare the man from talking about it, but he needed to show he was listening. "You tried to make them suffer like you."

"No. No, I didn't." Snape objected. "I only wanted them to; I didn't make them. I never tried to hurt them myself. I never meant to do that. I said things but I never hurt anyone, not like..." he trailed off. "I taught them, Remus, certainly, I tried to show them the world of potions they could have been a part of if only they had studied, or if they had had the decency to ask me if... yes, I tried to make them understand, and yes, I insulted them. I tried to make them see, see what they were missing, so maybe they'd want to spend more time there, or ask me to help them make a potion, or want to talk to me and I could have told them what was wrong, and they would have cared and they would have understood. Did you know that there was a secret room down the hall from the supply closet?" Lupin did, and he had drawn it, but he didn't say anything. "I kept a candle in there and a blanket. No one knew about it; you had to turn a corner and find your way through a labyrinth and by the time you were there, the rest of the world could have been so far away... I would go there all the time, I would stare at the wall or just fume or even read or fall asleep, whenever my empty classroom or office wasn't isolated enough. No one knew about it because no one ever wanted to know what I did. It was a secret. It was mine. I wanted to give it away, though. It was where I hid, but if someone else had known about it, that would have been even better. If I could have shared it with someone, if I didn't need it to be alone because I never was alone. I wanted someone to hurt enough that they would share that with me, that we could just hide out there. Away. So long as it was together. Maybe if they had been miserable enough I could have had a friend. Is that so horrible? Is it so awful to want that? I did what I had to do to be a teacher, I acted like a bastard, I wished someone else had done the dirty work for me so they could run and hide with me. But I never hit them, Remus, I never insulted them beyond repair, I never hurt them like that. Never." His voice was tight and his breathing going more and more ragged with every proclamation. "I'd never do that. I'd never hurt them. I wouldn't, Remus, I wouldn't. I didn't. I don't try to make people's lives miserable, I really don't. I'd never hurt them myself. I'd never dream of - I'd never do to any students, ever, what my father did to my sister and me. He--" Snape stopped speaking suddenly, tears forming quickly in his eyes. He looked down at his knees and remained quiet, having stopped, to Lupin's chagrin, seconds before he would have liberated himself from whatever was inside him.

The other man, who had, Snape realized, moved to sit next to him as he talked, asked slowly, "What about your father, Severus?"

"It's not fair," Snape started again, trying to ignore the question. "I didn't deserve this life. I didn't do anything to bring this about. It was never happy. When I was a kid --I didn't even like Hogwarts. I may have been mean, sure, but I was honest. Not everyone can say that. I was the best person I could be, I was, it wasn't my fault that wasn't up to scratch, not when I was just a child, not when I was eleven and started Hogwarts on the wrong foot, not when you and your lackeys embarrassed me in front of the whole school that morning our third year, not when you hung me upside down," - Lupin felt a pang - "not when Black tried to kill me. It wasn't my fault, dammit. It wasn't easy, living with what I had, but at least I tried. I was just born into that life! I was just a baby! I was just a child when he did it, Remus, and she was only sixteen. We didn't deserve that. Nobody does. What did I do, Lupin? What did I ever do to anybody? Why did I have to grow up in hell when you didn't, when Potter didn't, neither of them, when every single bloody student in the school had come from somewhere much better than me, when they didn't understand what that son of a bitch was like! I just wanted the same thing you did, didn't I? You know what it was like, you wanted to be loved by a girlfriend. I only wanted to be loved by my family. It's the same thing, isn't it? We both were robbed of the same thing. Turns out neither was possible, was it? Neither of us got the care we deserved, any kind of care at all. I didn't do anything to deserve what they did for me. I didn't ask for it." He was close to sobbing as he finished, "It's not fair, Remus. It's not bloody fair."

Remus gently held onto Snape's arm and squeezed his shoulder as he talked. Again, he said kindly, "What did your father do to you?" and wrapped his arms around Snape awkwardly.

Throat aching and heart draining, Snape leaned into Lupin's soft touch and gentle, caring voice and began, for the first time in twenty-three years, to cry quietly as he explained.

Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Chapter Nine, part II. The Floo Hub

In which Lucius is characteristically supercilious, the writer clears something up, and the protagonists dress funny.

"They know about the date, so they will try to make their exit soon," were Malfoy's words of salutation as he breezed into Fudge's office the next day.

"Who?"

Lucius hid a sneer. "Our werewolf friend Lupin and one Severus Snape." He pronounced his former ally's name very clearly.

"What? He's a werewolf, too?"

"No. But they are planning to escape together."

"How do you know?"

"Stop asking questions, Cornelius." He changed the subject briskly. "Snape teaches at Hogwarts. They cannot leave until term is over on the tenth of July.

"That's a three-day window."

"I suggest you have someone watching the Floo Hub very closely on those three days."

"Yes."

"The Portkey office."

"Yes."

"The Knight Bus."

"Okay."

"The skies."

"If you say so, Lucius."

"Cornelius, understand that once they get into America there will be nothing you can do to recapture them."

"I'm aware of that."

"See that they do not escape."

"I know, Lucius. This is as important to me as it is to you."

"My apologies, Cornelius. I will see you next week."

"Oh, yes, of course. Goodbye, Lucius."

They shook hands, and Lucius left Fudge to puzzle out a letter to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dear whoever, he began to plan as he found a quill. It has come to my attention that some unnamed evil person you should be looking for is in England and is able to disguise himself as two people simultaneously...

---

The route Fudge and Malfoy were the most worried about, and with good reason, was the Floo Hub. What is a Floo Hub, you ask? If one wishes to travel, he has a few options. Apparation is useful only for quick and temporary trips, broomsticks are mostly for entertainment purposes, and flying motor vehicles are strictly prohibited. The only other way to relocate - the safest and the most practical - is via Floo. Every fireplace in England is connected to every other fireplace in England, if the owner and the Ministry are on good terms, but international travels are a bit more difficult than roaring flames sparkling powder. Traveling long distances unmonitored is unsafe, both to a customer's health and to the government's sense of security. The solution is a common area whence anybody can travel to anywhere, provided they fill out the proper paperwork. The Floo Hub - 14 Green Street, London - is equipped with long-distance travel tunnels, dozens of employees ready to file forms, and enough fireplaces for of the whole city to Floo in or out at once. It's loud, sooty, and right in the middle of everything - and the only option for those who, say, wish to escape the country. The concept is simple: You walk in the front door. You queue up at the desk. You answer the questions and wait for the employee to fill out the forms. You are handed a packet of Floo Powder - enough for one trip, exactly - and directed to the proper fireplace. "Right side is departures. First and second floor is continental. Third floor, that wall..." and so forth. You make your way up the stairs, find the proper departure point, activate the fireplace with a dose of the powder, step inside, and the rest is history. Nice and simple.

Well, so Remus and Severus hoped, at least.

The Floo Hub on the morning of July eleventh was disorganized, as always, and filled with a multitude of people: the usual vacationers or holiday-makers, overbearing family members being reunited with relatives, technicians and janitors, and the normal smattering of security officers. The lobby and the records office were in a small area by the front door that contained a few identical armchairs, a large reception desk, and a number of businesslike oak doors in the wall behind, each of which led to a number of smaller offices, a private fireplace, a staff lounge, a lift, and anything else that is necessary to run such an establishment. Branching off from the antechamber was a huge, arched yet crude entrance to a cavernous and wide-floored room. There were no decorations aside from the marble fountain in the middle that doubled as a fire extinguisher and as a lame attempt at decoration, but the moving masses of witches and wizards more than made up for its plainness. There wasn't an inch of floor or balcony space that wasn't rich with moving people. The dimensions of the main Floo port were disproportionate to their outside appearance, much like many magical buildings; the floor stretched two hundred meters from front wall to back, and almost another hundred and fifty from left to right. This was nothing, however, compared to the room's height: there were no fewer than eleven levels on all of the four walls, each bustling with activity, and manifested with rickety, cast-iron walkways - the kind with decorative holes in the floor and thin railings. Each level was equipped with multiple fire-escape style staircases connecting one floor to the next. The walkways of every wall were lined with fireplace after giant fireplace, brightly lit with orange and green flames. Any given block of fireplaces connected to a different region of the world. In addition to the rows of fireplaces, the eleventh floor also contained a small office with glass panels overlooking the room below: this was the Operations booth, the room that could turn off the lighting, the wards, and when circumstance called for it, every public fire in the building.

A costume-charmed Lupin, Spot surreptitiously asleep in his pocket, regarded the scene carefully, although not as carefully as Snape, did, completely unrecognizable. "Thank the gods we haven't picked up the Muggle custom of picture I.D.s," Snape said wryly. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They queued up for the exiting Floo, gave the names Balthamos and Baruch² with faces as straight as they could manage, and stood patiently while the records wizard filled out two identical forms. Finally, were each handed a small paper packet of sparkling green powder and were directed to the trans-Atlantic section - a rickety walkway on the seventh level.

Shortly afterward, they removed the disguise charms --

"This nose itches, Severus, and it's not like anybody cares who we look like."

"If you've underestimated the security here, we're in trouble."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on and take the charm off, I know those ears can't be comfortable."

-- and made their way past two inattentive armed guards, then through the wide archway. Snape in the lead, they started across the wide, warehouse-like ground floor and were halfway up the first cramped staircase, footsteps clanging on the thin metal, when the door to one of the small offices swung open and a man stepped out of it, strode up to a secretary, and peered over his shoulder. This man was Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.