"Madness is the emergency exit." -- Alan Moore

[m4moony]

Date: Sunday, 16 July, 2000
Time: After Moonrise and sunset
Location: Spinner's End
Character(s) Involved: Remus Lupin and any other residents of Spinner's End who wish
Status: Complete
Rating: Let's say PG-13 to start and see where it goes

Comments

[subtle_simmer]

It was impossible for Severus to 'understand', regardless of the similarities of their situations, precisely because of the differences in their situations. Severus, for all the horrific things he had done in his life, could clearly and vividly recall each and every one of them, and had done it all of his own free will.

Not something he was proud of, exactly, but control was vital to him, and even while he railed against the manipulations of the two more powerful wizards who used him as their pawn between them, he did have a choice, of sorts. He could have chosen to remain loyal to the Dark Lord. He could have chosen to make his leaving obvious, as Regulus and Igor had done, and accept the consequences. He chose to switch his loyalties to Dumbledore and follow his orders (though not completely unquestioningly) after making that decision.

He could not comprehend the idea of having no conscious choice or control, which was why his comparison, and his clumsy attempt at something like empathy, came from the perspective of his own experiences.

Severus thought it would be in some way guilt-relieving, to know that what had been done had not been through any conscious fault of Lupin's. Surely, Lupin's crime of 'infecting' her couldn't be half so severe as Severus' of participating in her torturous questioning and painstaking skinning?

Clearly, he did not understand.

He shrugged off the wolf's growl over the nickname. It was a stupid bloody name, anyway! Pettigrew had mentioned it during one of the interminable nights when the Rat had sat in this house, (in this room) prattling on about how Lupin just didn't "understand" him, and how much he missed his 'dear friends'.

Prongs! Padfoot! Bah! Severus was not one for Muggle displays of machismo, but the idea of a nice antler-coat-rack or a dog-skull ashtray occasionally flitted through his Potter-and-Black-hating fantasies.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. The body-language of the wolf at least told him that much - he had it all wrong.

Which still didn't mean he was leaving. He might be wrong about why Lupin was brooding, but it didn't change the fact that Lupin was brooding! If left to his own devices, he might injure himself again, and Severus was not about to risk that happening.

The only other method of communication open to him - Legilimency - was something he would never, ever consider using. He'd been on both the giving and receiving ends of such 'mind rape' countless times during the war. There was no way he would violate any member of his household like that, NOW.

Severus picked up the book and raised a brow at Lupin.

"Sentimental fool," he said softly, glancing at the title - the book fell open rather easily to this section, so clearly it was often-read.

Then again, sunrise was some hours away, yet, and at least the werewolf wasn't running or growling. With a shrug, he cleared his throat and began to read aloud.

Even by the end, he still didn't really get the point, but at least it was something to do.

[m4moony]

Remus huffed softly, tilting his head in a wolfish smirk at Severus' pronouncement and jumping up onto the bed. As 'sentimental fool' was quite possibly one of the least acerbic descriptions the man had ever called him, he found it slightly amusing. Circling a moment, he settled in to lie on the bed as Severus read.

He hadn't expected Severus to read the poem aloud, merely read it to gain some insight into what Remus was going through at the moment. Surprisingly, he found the other man's reading voice held a comforting cadence. Although, given the events of the eveing, why he should still find anything surprising was beyond him.

He did not know, of course, that Severus believed he had hurt himself deliberately. It had never occured to him that the scratches in his should would leave such an impression. Nor that Severus would go to such lengths to prevent it happening again! Perhaps, in light of the evening, it was a good thing he was unaware.

Surreal as the experience seemed, much as Severus didn't seem to 'get' it, somehow, this seemed to be working. Maybe it was the poem, or the fact Remus had realized the futility of 'arguing' when Severus got like this. Whatever the reason, he wasn't feeling so unsettled. He still wasn't wholly comfortable with himself. It was still too soon to think of being surrounded by other lycanthropes while he was in this state.

But somehow, this helped.

Another unsettling shift. Something else to think about later.

Then the poem came to a conclusion and Remus looked up, headed cocked in inquiry -- intriguing, actually, looking at it from the perspective of a man in a wolf's body, how many different meanings the wolf could inject into the same motion with only slight variances.

So, the reading was done. The argument was, well, not really an argument, and also done. They couldn't talk, although Remus really felt he should apologize for their previous argument in this room. He didn't want to go back down with the others until he felt more relaxed in his own skin.

Now what?

[subtle_simmer]

Now what? was the same thought which crossed Severus' mind as well. Reading the poem had given him something else to focus on, and he did like to read. Someone had once told him - a backhanded compliment in the most extreme - after extolling on all the many physical flaws which made him so unappealing to look at - that his 'saving grace' was his voice, and that, 'The blind would find you beautiful'.

Juneau Connors could undoubtedly set that person to rights!

It must have helped, somewhat, because the werewolf seemed more at-ease, lying on the bed. It was interesting how, in spite of the clearly animal form and behaviour, like circling the bed before lying down, Severus could still see Lupin's personality.

"Hell if I know," he said in exasperation, as though he could hear the werewolf echo his question, or perhaps hear himself echo the werewolf's question.

The werewolf who had undressed him, put his unconscious self into the bed the wolf was now lying on, and created the chaise that Severus was sitting on for the express purpose of watching over Severus while he slept off his own idiocy!

It was impossible to sort out his feelings about that entire situation, so he coped by trying not to think of it too much. Being in the same room, in a reverse setting, made it impossible not to think of, and to realise that Lupin was the only person who had ever displayed that level of concern for him. For something so trivial as lack of sleep!

Strange how different the werewolf looked, now. The eyes no longer held the spark of fear, panic, bloodlust, whatever it had been, before. It was merely Lupin, looking out at him through the eyes of the wolf. His coat was thick and luxurious, the streaks of grey making the golden-brown seem luminous, shimmering in the light of the magical lamps in the room. The scar at Lupin's neck, clearly visible on the man, was completely hidden beneath the fur. Even Severus, in his bias and lingering phobia had to admit, at least to himself, that he was a magnificent creature.

He didn't understand Lupin. He didn't understand himself. He certainly didn't understand the situation! There was an almost instinctive urge to want to reach out and touch - but he ignored the impulse. Casting about for distractions, he focused on basic needs.

"Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?"

All the convenient bowls set out for the transformation were downstairs, after all.

"Do you want me to read something else?"

It was going to be a long night. Maybe he could pick one of his potions journals to read aloud and bore the werewolf to sleep, or at least some semblance of rest.

[m4moony]

Large amber eyes blinked in surprise at the man's initial outburst. If he hadn't known better, Remus might have thought Severus had actually understood the question in Remus' head!

But, as that was impossible -- well, not wholely impossible given the other talents the man possessed outside potions, but Remus didn't think Severus was trying to read him that way -- he could only assume their thoughts had been running parallel to one another, understandable given the nature of the situation.

Now that the 'crisis' had passed, it seemed they were at a loss. Although why, if the 'crisis' was behind them, Severus was still insisting on spending the night with him, Remus had no idea. Only three people had ever spent the night with the wolf for any reason. All three of those people were dead and Remus had not expected to find any other to do so in their stead.

That it was a man who loathed them all was irony indeed.

Yet, there was something compelling in the flit of emotions across the ebony eyes which were fixed on him now. Remus wondered if Severus was as lost as he was. It would have eased his own confusion to know he wasn't the only one who realized how far beyond what one could rationally expect given their history things had gone tonight.

Then Severus was all business again.

Did Remus need anything?

What Remus truly needed he was unlikely to get from the present company in the present moment -- or ever.

For, what Remus needed was something he, himself, refused to allow -- the simple luxury of human touch, tangible affirmation that someone was there, not merely in the same room, but truly there with Remus. But, of all things he could not afford, encouraging such actions was at the top of his list. The Wolfsbane Potion was a blessing. Yet, he had lived too long without it to forget what the potion masked. Despite the comfort he would have found in having someone run a gentle hand through his fur, he absolutely could not allow it.

It was too easy for a person to get used to thinking of the tame wolf, the normal canine with a human mind, which was present under the potion's influence. With the potion, it was difficult for many to remember the monster that was really within and allow the wolf to get close. If such a thing happened while access to the potion was blocked or the formula became unavailable for whatever reason, the resul ts would be disasterous.

It was the reason why Remus had snapped at the others that first moon months ago. But now, after knowing what he had done to someone he'd called friend, he was doubly resolved not to let anyone take that chance.

No matter how much he might wish the man with him now was the sort to indulge in such things even briefly.

Shaking his large, canine head, Remus declined both water and food. To be honest, he was almost afraid that the idea of 'hunger' might reawaken that frightening desire to bite into flesh which had over-taken him in the cellar, something he did not wish to risk until he knew what had triggered it.

Strangely, the idea of being read to appealed so much he was surprised himself to find his own tail wagging! It would almost be like a conversation on an intelligent level, which was close enough to human interaction, -- or as close as he was going to get -- to be soothing to the very loud part of his soul that was protesting against being a monster.

[subtle_simmer]

The werewolf looked so positively canine rather than lupine in that moment, his head and ears up, mouth quirked in the animal twist of a grin, thick tufted tail thumping softly against the bedding.

It was in such opposition to the angry tension of earlier, Severus couldn't help it. He laughed aloud.

"I suppose it would be in bad taste to mention, now, that as a boy, I'd always wanted a dog," he said between dry chuckles.

A nice, big, fierce German Shepard, which he'd intended to train to be an 'attack dog'. He used to fantasise about goading the dream-dog into ripping out his father's worthless throat.

"Very well, reading it is, though now you will have to tolerate my taste in leisure reading."

He flicked his wand at the door, which opened long enough to allow a large book to fly through it, then closed again.

He actually moved the chaise closer to the bed - there were occasional illustrations in the book, though whether they translated in lupine sensory perceptions he didn't know. Still, he moved close enough that Lupin could see the pages should he wish it. Leaning back on the chaise, he crossed his legs at the ankles, conveying the appearance, at least, of being at his ease, even though there was a werewolf less than arms' distance away.

"Are you familiar with Arthur Conan Doyle? Sherlock Holmes - a true genius... though I think we will avoid Hound of the Baskervilles tonight."

Leave it to Severus Snape to find it amusing to goad a werewolf after finally achieving some level of 'peace' - even if it was only done in amusement. The situation had been entirely too surreal for anything to make sense at the moment, anyway. He removed his pocket watch from his robes and set it on his lap for easy reference.

"I'll leave a few minutes before sunrise," he said, glancing at the wolf.

He had no desire to intrude on Lupin's privacy. Besides, he found the man's tendency to run about shirtless quite irritating enough - he had no wish to see anything more.

Without waiting for any further response, he opened the book, flipped through it a bit as though deciding which story to read, at least to start.

"Ah, here we go. The Speckled Band."

Settling comfortably into the chair, he began to read.