Loose ends chapter 28 - Christmas
Andromeda realises that Snape has fallen in love. Sort of pre-slash. PG.
This is a work of fan fiction. The world and all recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling and I make no claim or profit etc.
Christmas
Lupin had taken his time warding an area of back garden against the kitchen wall. His progress was slowed by the fact that the incantations required the repetition of the name of the creature to be contained inside. By the time the wards were complete, Lupin had repeated “Mephistopheles the cat” more than thirty times. But it was worth it. Snape hadn’t looked so interested in anything for a long time. Not even the Postlune brewing had seen him this animated.
It had made Lupin’s heart break when he saw Snape realising the cat was a suggestion from Dumbledore’s portrait. Dumbledore had driven his potions master to breaking point, had demanded more than could have possibly been reasonable and had wielded Snape as a weapon rather than treated him as the troubled man he was. And still Snape worshiped him, valued nothing higher than Dumbledore’s affection and approval. It brought to mind that way Sevvy had asked for his parents, even though they obviously treated him so badly.
But Lupin had to admit that in this case, the devious bastard had done the right thing by Snape.
Mephistopheles finally gave Snape’s days some focus. He no longer spent most of his day listlessly following Lupin from room to room, instead spending many hours sitting in the garden, talking softly to the cat, his movements slow and calm. Lupin noticed that the cat’s increasing confidence matched that of the man. By the time Christmas came, Mephistopheles would meow at the back door for his meals, and Snape scowled and snapped at the stream of pre-Christmas visitors as if nothing had changed since his Hogwarts days. In private, however, he called his cat “kitty”, Teddy “darling” and Harry… Harry. Lupin remained Lupin, despite his requests to the contrary.
Christmas fell two days after the full moon, and Lupin was too ill to accept any of the Christmas dinner invitations, to the Burrow, to Clarridge’s or to the Institute. Privately, Lupin thought this might have been a good thing, as a large noisy party would have been beyond Snape’s tolerance as well. Blaming Lupin’s lycanthropy allowed him to save face. So, after an exchange of presents in the morning, Harry headed to the Burrow with Teddy and Andromeda, leaving Lupin still lying in bed.
Snape threw the ball around for Grimmy, wrote a quick note to Clarridge so that Moros could visit his girlfriend, and used the quietness of the house to attempt to lure Mephistopheles inside. After an hour of freezing in the kitchen while the cat sat in the open doorway, he gave up and went to check on Lupin.
The werewolf had finally succeeded in dragging himself from his bed to his chair. He had managed nothing further though, still in his pyjamas and with his hair damp with sweat from the effort of getting out of bed.
“Lupin, may I provide assistance?”
“Could you help me get to the bathroom, please?”
Snape stood without moving, his face uncertain.
“I’m not sure how. I…”
“Of course, Severus, I wasn’t thinking…”
Lupin frowned for a few moments, then cautiously picked up his wand.
“I should be able to manage this.” He pointed the wand at the base of the chair. “Rota.”
Lupin’s chair transformed itself into a muggle-style wheelchair. Lupin dropped his wand and the colour drained from his face. He leaned back with his eyes closed and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Lupin?”
“Wait,” Lupin hissed between clenched teeth.
Snape watched in helpless frustration as Lupin fought a silent battle against his body. His face was screwed up and his breathing was even and deliberate. He right hand gripped the arm of the chair. Slowly, his tense muscles seemed to release and colour returned to his face. When his eyes finally opened, he had returned to his usual calm expression.
“Sorry about that. My body doesn’t like doing magic when I’m in this state. If I’d been sick, you’d have been scrubbing the floor by hand. Anyway, the chair will move quite freely now if you push it. If you could take me to the bathroom, please?”
Snape pushed the chair through to the bathroom, feeling guilty. Lupin had suffered because he was afraid to take control of his magic again.
When Lupin was clean and dressed, and had picked at some toast, Snape sat down nervously beside him.
“Lupin, I think it’s time I tried to do magic again. Properly.”
Lupin nodded at him, a gentle smile on his face.
“Would you like your wand, Severus?”
“My wand? I thought… didn’t I lose it?”
“No, Severus. We brought it with us when we brought you here the first time, when we found you as Sevvy. Harry put it away, safe. When you apparated away, you did that wandless. Gave us quite a shock, you know. I never realised you could do that.”
“I… I don’t know… I’m not sure I ever had before.”
“That’s quite a skill you know. You may be the only living wizard known to be capable of that.”
Snape looked at the floor, knowing the werewolf had one of those lovely smiles on his face, but too ashamed to face it.
“I… I don’t even think I’m capable of doing basic domestic charms right now, wand or not. Let alone apparating. But I know I need to.”
Lupin placed his hand on Snape’s shoulder.
“Yes, you do. And I appreciate that you are willing to try things, even when it’s difficult for you.”
By the time Andromeda returned from the Burrow with an overexcited, overtired Teddy, Snape had control of Accio and tea making spells. By mid-afternoon Snape could levitate Lupin from room to room and change Teddy’s nappies. And by the time Lucretia and Wormwood arrived for a quiet supper, he attempted to set the table, but was so tired he scattered cutlery all over the floor instead.
After supper, Teddy was put to bed and Lupin lay down soon after, exhausted. Snape began clearing dishes by hand. Wormwood followed him to the kitchen, insisting on helping Snape clean up. Lucretia watched thoughtfully as they left the room.
“I think you’re going to need to watch that one a bit more carefully.”
“What?”
Andromeda looked across to Lucretia’s unreadable face.
“Severus,” Lucretia replied. “He has formed some sort of dependence on Remus.”
“What? What do you mean by ‘dependence’?”
Lucretia gave an irritated sigh.
“I’m not entirely sure. I believe that he may be in love with Remus.”
“Really?”
Andromeda’s eyes flicked towards the door to the kitchen, and she cast a quick spell to warn her if Snape was within earshot.
“Are you quite sure he’s actually in love? Rather than just… needy. Remus has supported him through a very difficult time. A couple of months ago, Severus was following Remus every time he left the room. He’s actually got a lot better since then.”
“He’s less clingy, I can see that. But the emotional dependence has deepened, and become something more. I can smell it. The combination is complex, but it does indicate that kind of love, although he’s… troubled by it as well. There’s need and also a sense of calm and security when Remus is with him. But there’s desire as well. And fear, and confusion. It’s… hard to explain to an alunar. I understand you can’t smell it?”
“No, I can’t. But I think I do understand. I think I’ve seen some of it now that you’ve mentioned it. The way he looks when Remus comes into the room, or leaves. He’s doing his best to mask it, but he doesn’t have the abilities he used to.”
“Abilities?”
“Hiding his thoughts and feelings. He survived his years as a spy by being utterly unreadable. In the past, he’d never have shown anything like this. I’ve never seen or heard anything to indicate he… he had any interest like that in men for example. However, if you think he’s in love with Remus, perhaps he does.”
“I thought it unlikely at first too, but Wormwood tells me that sometimes men do love men instead of women.”
Lucretia’s face wore a slightly puzzled expression. It reminded Andromeda that the young woman had led an extremely sheltered existence, and one where the needs and desires of the individual were always second to the needs of the pack.
“Yes, it does happen. Men sometimes fall in love with men, women with women. The wizarding world is not particularly accepting, so they generally have to keep it hidden. They’d risk losing their job or being cast out of their family. Although I’m told that the muggles have become quite tolerant lately.”
“It’s not very practical. It’s… how would…?” Lucretia paused, perhaps realising her words were best left unspoken. “And how would they have children?”
“They don’t, I suppose. I think the point is that love is seldom practical. People don’t choose who they fall in love with.”
Lucretia nodded.
“That’s true. But if it’s not a choice, why would they be punished for it - lose their job or be rejected by their family? I can’t see how it would do any harm. It’s not like they want to rip people to pieces at the full moon.”
Andromeda smiled across at the severe young woman. The expression had not shifted one bit, but she had just made a joke. The company of Wormwood and Snape was slowly revealing a wonderfully dry sense of humour.
“I don’t know, to be honest, Lucretia. In my experience, people aren’t very tolerant of differences. Certain eccentricities are acceptable among wizards, but others are not. My daughter was… unusual. I don’t know if Remus ever mentioned - probably not knowing him, but you’ve seen how Teddy’s hair is, you may have guessed. Dora was a Metamorphmagus. Metamorphmagi aren’t supposed to fit in and become respectable wizards and witches. A hundred years ago, the most likely profession for her would have been prostitution. In these more enlightened times, she’d have worked as an entertainer of some sort. Metamorphmagi certainly don’t become aurors, however talented they are. She had to fight for everything, just to be allowed what others took for granted. If she’d been less bloody-minded, I think she’d have just given up.”
“Lucky she was bloody-minded then. I wonder where that came from?”
“I can’t imagine,” replied Andromeda.
Lucretia’s face revealed the faintest hint of a smile.
“You know,” Andromeda continued after a brief pause, “it never crossed my mind that Severus was… well the usual wizard term is “crooked” I wonder if Remus knows.”
“Crooked?”
“There’s a bar, apparently. Called “The Crooked House”. An establishment somewhere off Knockturn Alley. If a witch or wizard goes there, they are said to have been “seen at The Crooked House”. Or just “crooked” for short.”
“So Severus used to go there?”
“I doubt it. Certainly I never heard anything, and his activities were closely monitored by the Ministry after the first war. I think that there would have been people in the Order who knew if he was, and most of them weren’t tolerant or likely to be discreet about it.”
“So… I’m confused. He’s not crooked? And what does a crooked house have to do with his feelings for Remus.”
Andromeda took a breath. The woman was so naïve sometimes. Euphemisms would not work.
“The Crooked House is a… club, I suppose, for wizards who are interested in wizards and witches who are interested in witches. Sexually interested. The witches and wizards who go there are said to have been “seen at The Crooked House”. And over time, that has been shortened to “crooked” and applied to any wizard or witch who prefers their own gender, not just ones who actually visit the club.”
“Oh. I see. Crooked… Wormwood said that men often don’t react well if they find out that… crooked men are interested in them. You said you weren’t sure if Remus knew? I mean, his feelings for Remus, not just being crooked.”
Andromeda thought carefully, picturing the way Lupin was with Snape in her mind. The patience, the gentleness, the easy way he put a hand on Snape’s arm or shoulder to reassure him. It was the way he had been with Harry in his worst times, after his withdrawal, when the young man had had to confront his nightmares without the potion to dull them. The way, Andromeda realised with a jolt, he was with her when she talked of Ted or Dora.
“I doubt it. At least not from anything I’ve seen in the way he acts. But wouldn’t he smell it too?”
“Maybe. But even if he smells it, not all werewolves are able to interpret the smells equally well. He may not have noticed. But if he did know, do you think he would hurt Severus?”
“Hurt him? Why would he do that?”
“Wormwood said, in his last year at school, there was a boy who liked another boy like that. And the other boy found out and with his friends beat up the boy who liked him.”
“I can’t imagine Remus acting like that. He’s… open-minded about that kind of thing.”
Andromeda hoped the young woman would accept her words. Anything more on the subject was not for her to say.
“That’s what Wormwood thought too. He said that some of the other students discussed it in the class when Remus was teaching, said the boy had deserved it. He told them off and said they’d be in trouble if they said anything like that again. Apparently they waited until they were nowhere near Remus and started making the comments again. Must have been near the full moon because he heard and they all got detention.”
“Remus would have no sympathy for that kind of bigotry. And he certainly wouldn’t react that way if… that kind of interest were directed at him. But it may make him more cautious in how he is with Severus, and I don’t think that would be a good thing. And…”
Andromeda paused, thinking.
“It’s not the first time I’ve watched someone fall in love with him while he failed to notice,” she said eventually.
Lucretia looked briefly puzzled.
“Your daughter?”
Andromeda nodded.
“The difference with Dora was that she was quite frustrated. She actually tried quite hard to get his attention for some time. Even when he noticed… he pretended he hadn’t. He was…” Andromeda paused, a sad expression on her face. “He didn’t want to take advantage of her.”
The way, she did not say, he was taken advantage of when he was younger.
“But with Severus, it’s different I think. I don’t think he means Remus to know. I don’t think he wants anything. Just to know he’s there.”
Lucretia nodded.
“I have to take your advice on this. It’s very complicated when you have a choice.”
Andromeda looked again at the young woman. She remembered Lupin saying that the Institute’s director had needed to give her permission before she would consider a relationship with Wormwood. That she wouldn’t make the decision herself.
“So we say nothing?” Lucretia continued.
“We say nothing.”
This is a work of fan fiction. The world and all recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling and I make no claim or profit etc.
Christmas
Lupin had taken his time warding an area of back garden against the kitchen wall. His progress was slowed by the fact that the incantations required the repetition of the name of the creature to be contained inside. By the time the wards were complete, Lupin had repeated “Mephistopheles the cat” more than thirty times. But it was worth it. Snape hadn’t looked so interested in anything for a long time. Not even the Postlune brewing had seen him this animated.
It had made Lupin’s heart break when he saw Snape realising the cat was a suggestion from Dumbledore’s portrait. Dumbledore had driven his potions master to breaking point, had demanded more than could have possibly been reasonable and had wielded Snape as a weapon rather than treated him as the troubled man he was. And still Snape worshiped him, valued nothing higher than Dumbledore’s affection and approval. It brought to mind that way Sevvy had asked for his parents, even though they obviously treated him so badly.
But Lupin had to admit that in this case, the devious bastard had done the right thing by Snape.
Mephistopheles finally gave Snape’s days some focus. He no longer spent most of his day listlessly following Lupin from room to room, instead spending many hours sitting in the garden, talking softly to the cat, his movements slow and calm. Lupin noticed that the cat’s increasing confidence matched that of the man. By the time Christmas came, Mephistopheles would meow at the back door for his meals, and Snape scowled and snapped at the stream of pre-Christmas visitors as if nothing had changed since his Hogwarts days. In private, however, he called his cat “kitty”, Teddy “darling” and Harry… Harry. Lupin remained Lupin, despite his requests to the contrary.
Christmas fell two days after the full moon, and Lupin was too ill to accept any of the Christmas dinner invitations, to the Burrow, to Clarridge’s or to the Institute. Privately, Lupin thought this might have been a good thing, as a large noisy party would have been beyond Snape’s tolerance as well. Blaming Lupin’s lycanthropy allowed him to save face. So, after an exchange of presents in the morning, Harry headed to the Burrow with Teddy and Andromeda, leaving Lupin still lying in bed.
Snape threw the ball around for Grimmy, wrote a quick note to Clarridge so that Moros could visit his girlfriend, and used the quietness of the house to attempt to lure Mephistopheles inside. After an hour of freezing in the kitchen while the cat sat in the open doorway, he gave up and went to check on Lupin.
The werewolf had finally succeeded in dragging himself from his bed to his chair. He had managed nothing further though, still in his pyjamas and with his hair damp with sweat from the effort of getting out of bed.
“Lupin, may I provide assistance?”
“Could you help me get to the bathroom, please?”
Snape stood without moving, his face uncertain.
“I’m not sure how. I…”
“Of course, Severus, I wasn’t thinking…”
Lupin frowned for a few moments, then cautiously picked up his wand.
“I should be able to manage this.” He pointed the wand at the base of the chair. “Rota.”
Lupin’s chair transformed itself into a muggle-style wheelchair. Lupin dropped his wand and the colour drained from his face. He leaned back with his eyes closed and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Lupin?”
“Wait,” Lupin hissed between clenched teeth.
Snape watched in helpless frustration as Lupin fought a silent battle against his body. His face was screwed up and his breathing was even and deliberate. He right hand gripped the arm of the chair. Slowly, his tense muscles seemed to release and colour returned to his face. When his eyes finally opened, he had returned to his usual calm expression.
“Sorry about that. My body doesn’t like doing magic when I’m in this state. If I’d been sick, you’d have been scrubbing the floor by hand. Anyway, the chair will move quite freely now if you push it. If you could take me to the bathroom, please?”
Snape pushed the chair through to the bathroom, feeling guilty. Lupin had suffered because he was afraid to take control of his magic again.
When Lupin was clean and dressed, and had picked at some toast, Snape sat down nervously beside him.
“Lupin, I think it’s time I tried to do magic again. Properly.”
Lupin nodded at him, a gentle smile on his face.
“Would you like your wand, Severus?”
“My wand? I thought… didn’t I lose it?”
“No, Severus. We brought it with us when we brought you here the first time, when we found you as Sevvy. Harry put it away, safe. When you apparated away, you did that wandless. Gave us quite a shock, you know. I never realised you could do that.”
“I… I don’t know… I’m not sure I ever had before.”
“That’s quite a skill you know. You may be the only living wizard known to be capable of that.”
Snape looked at the floor, knowing the werewolf had one of those lovely smiles on his face, but too ashamed to face it.
“I… I don’t even think I’m capable of doing basic domestic charms right now, wand or not. Let alone apparating. But I know I need to.”
Lupin placed his hand on Snape’s shoulder.
“Yes, you do. And I appreciate that you are willing to try things, even when it’s difficult for you.”
By the time Andromeda returned from the Burrow with an overexcited, overtired Teddy, Snape had control of Accio and tea making spells. By mid-afternoon Snape could levitate Lupin from room to room and change Teddy’s nappies. And by the time Lucretia and Wormwood arrived for a quiet supper, he attempted to set the table, but was so tired he scattered cutlery all over the floor instead.
After supper, Teddy was put to bed and Lupin lay down soon after, exhausted. Snape began clearing dishes by hand. Wormwood followed him to the kitchen, insisting on helping Snape clean up. Lucretia watched thoughtfully as they left the room.
“I think you’re going to need to watch that one a bit more carefully.”
“What?”
Andromeda looked across to Lucretia’s unreadable face.
“Severus,” Lucretia replied. “He has formed some sort of dependence on Remus.”
“What? What do you mean by ‘dependence’?”
Lucretia gave an irritated sigh.
“I’m not entirely sure. I believe that he may be in love with Remus.”
“Really?”
Andromeda’s eyes flicked towards the door to the kitchen, and she cast a quick spell to warn her if Snape was within earshot.
“Are you quite sure he’s actually in love? Rather than just… needy. Remus has supported him through a very difficult time. A couple of months ago, Severus was following Remus every time he left the room. He’s actually got a lot better since then.”
“He’s less clingy, I can see that. But the emotional dependence has deepened, and become something more. I can smell it. The combination is complex, but it does indicate that kind of love, although he’s… troubled by it as well. There’s need and also a sense of calm and security when Remus is with him. But there’s desire as well. And fear, and confusion. It’s… hard to explain to an alunar. I understand you can’t smell it?”
“No, I can’t. But I think I do understand. I think I’ve seen some of it now that you’ve mentioned it. The way he looks when Remus comes into the room, or leaves. He’s doing his best to mask it, but he doesn’t have the abilities he used to.”
“Abilities?”
“Hiding his thoughts and feelings. He survived his years as a spy by being utterly unreadable. In the past, he’d never have shown anything like this. I’ve never seen or heard anything to indicate he… he had any interest like that in men for example. However, if you think he’s in love with Remus, perhaps he does.”
“I thought it unlikely at first too, but Wormwood tells me that sometimes men do love men instead of women.”
Lucretia’s face wore a slightly puzzled expression. It reminded Andromeda that the young woman had led an extremely sheltered existence, and one where the needs and desires of the individual were always second to the needs of the pack.
“Yes, it does happen. Men sometimes fall in love with men, women with women. The wizarding world is not particularly accepting, so they generally have to keep it hidden. They’d risk losing their job or being cast out of their family. Although I’m told that the muggles have become quite tolerant lately.”
“It’s not very practical. It’s… how would…?” Lucretia paused, perhaps realising her words were best left unspoken. “And how would they have children?”
“They don’t, I suppose. I think the point is that love is seldom practical. People don’t choose who they fall in love with.”
Lucretia nodded.
“That’s true. But if it’s not a choice, why would they be punished for it - lose their job or be rejected by their family? I can’t see how it would do any harm. It’s not like they want to rip people to pieces at the full moon.”
Andromeda smiled across at the severe young woman. The expression had not shifted one bit, but she had just made a joke. The company of Wormwood and Snape was slowly revealing a wonderfully dry sense of humour.
“I don’t know, to be honest, Lucretia. In my experience, people aren’t very tolerant of differences. Certain eccentricities are acceptable among wizards, but others are not. My daughter was… unusual. I don’t know if Remus ever mentioned - probably not knowing him, but you’ve seen how Teddy’s hair is, you may have guessed. Dora was a Metamorphmagus. Metamorphmagi aren’t supposed to fit in and become respectable wizards and witches. A hundred years ago, the most likely profession for her would have been prostitution. In these more enlightened times, she’d have worked as an entertainer of some sort. Metamorphmagi certainly don’t become aurors, however talented they are. She had to fight for everything, just to be allowed what others took for granted. If she’d been less bloody-minded, I think she’d have just given up.”
“Lucky she was bloody-minded then. I wonder where that came from?”
“I can’t imagine,” replied Andromeda.
Lucretia’s face revealed the faintest hint of a smile.
“You know,” Andromeda continued after a brief pause, “it never crossed my mind that Severus was… well the usual wizard term is “crooked” I wonder if Remus knows.”
“Crooked?”
“There’s a bar, apparently. Called “The Crooked House”. An establishment somewhere off Knockturn Alley. If a witch or wizard goes there, they are said to have been “seen at The Crooked House”. Or just “crooked” for short.”
“So Severus used to go there?”
“I doubt it. Certainly I never heard anything, and his activities were closely monitored by the Ministry after the first war. I think that there would have been people in the Order who knew if he was, and most of them weren’t tolerant or likely to be discreet about it.”
“So… I’m confused. He’s not crooked? And what does a crooked house have to do with his feelings for Remus.”
Andromeda took a breath. The woman was so naïve sometimes. Euphemisms would not work.
“The Crooked House is a… club, I suppose, for wizards who are interested in wizards and witches who are interested in witches. Sexually interested. The witches and wizards who go there are said to have been “seen at The Crooked House”. And over time, that has been shortened to “crooked” and applied to any wizard or witch who prefers their own gender, not just ones who actually visit the club.”
“Oh. I see. Crooked… Wormwood said that men often don’t react well if they find out that… crooked men are interested in them. You said you weren’t sure if Remus knew? I mean, his feelings for Remus, not just being crooked.”
Andromeda thought carefully, picturing the way Lupin was with Snape in her mind. The patience, the gentleness, the easy way he put a hand on Snape’s arm or shoulder to reassure him. It was the way he had been with Harry in his worst times, after his withdrawal, when the young man had had to confront his nightmares without the potion to dull them. The way, Andromeda realised with a jolt, he was with her when she talked of Ted or Dora.
“I doubt it. At least not from anything I’ve seen in the way he acts. But wouldn’t he smell it too?”
“Maybe. But even if he smells it, not all werewolves are able to interpret the smells equally well. He may not have noticed. But if he did know, do you think he would hurt Severus?”
“Hurt him? Why would he do that?”
“Wormwood said, in his last year at school, there was a boy who liked another boy like that. And the other boy found out and with his friends beat up the boy who liked him.”
“I can’t imagine Remus acting like that. He’s… open-minded about that kind of thing.”
Andromeda hoped the young woman would accept her words. Anything more on the subject was not for her to say.
“That’s what Wormwood thought too. He said that some of the other students discussed it in the class when Remus was teaching, said the boy had deserved it. He told them off and said they’d be in trouble if they said anything like that again. Apparently they waited until they were nowhere near Remus and started making the comments again. Must have been near the full moon because he heard and they all got detention.”
“Remus would have no sympathy for that kind of bigotry. And he certainly wouldn’t react that way if… that kind of interest were directed at him. But it may make him more cautious in how he is with Severus, and I don’t think that would be a good thing. And…”
Andromeda paused, thinking.
“It’s not the first time I’ve watched someone fall in love with him while he failed to notice,” she said eventually.
Lucretia looked briefly puzzled.
“Your daughter?”
Andromeda nodded.
“The difference with Dora was that she was quite frustrated. She actually tried quite hard to get his attention for some time. Even when he noticed… he pretended he hadn’t. He was…” Andromeda paused, a sad expression on her face. “He didn’t want to take advantage of her.”
The way, she did not say, he was taken advantage of when he was younger.
“But with Severus, it’s different I think. I don’t think he means Remus to know. I don’t think he wants anything. Just to know he’s there.”
Lucretia nodded.
“I have to take your advice on this. It’s very complicated when you have a choice.”
Andromeda looked again at the young woman. She remembered Lupin saying that the Institute’s director had needed to give her permission before she would consider a relationship with Wormwood. That she wouldn’t make the decision herself.
“So we say nothing?” Lucretia continued.
“We say nothing.”