Queerditch Pub Stories
A couple of queerditch_pub offerings. One is more the beginning of a story than a story itself. The other isn't a ficlet at all--it's a short story. And I think it might qualify for omniocular's Anywhere But Here challenge, even though that's over with now.
Oh, and spoilers for HBP in both.
Title: Untitled (can anyone suggest a good title for this?)
Pairing/Characters: Regulus and Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 762
Prompt: a rainy Sunday afternoon
Summary: Regulus needs an escape route. Hermione needs some answers.
***
They were coming for him.
And he couldn't stop to think about that, not if he wanted to escape them.
He had just been lucky that he'd found the right book in the Black family library, one that told him how to transform a normal Time-Turner into one that sent you forward into the future. It had taken Transfiguration, charms and a very nasty potion that stank of Jobberknoll feathers.
But he had done it. At least, he hoped he had. If he could just keep turning the Time-Turner enough times.
Twenty-four turns equaled one day. One hundred and sixty-eight turns equaled one week. Six hundred seventy-two turns equaled one month. Eight thousand sixty-four turns equaled one year.
How many turns he'd have to make to reach a future where the Death Eaters had stopped searching for him and he would be safe...well, he didn't know. Every time he thought about it, he just tacked on more turns. The farther he got from here and now, the better.
He didn't know if he could live in the future, or if it would create some ghastly paradox like in Peter's science fiction stories. But he couldn't waste time worrying about it. A million and one things could go wrong if he did go forward in time…but he definitely knew that two things would go wrong if he stayed. He had to hope that the future had some sort of cure for the poison he'd drunk, and that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters didn't rule the future.
Turn and turn and turn. And don't stop. If he stopped, the spell would start. And he doubted, based on the fever heating his bones and the cramps in his stomach, that he would get a second chance. He had to make the first one count.
When he stopped, it wasn't his choice. His hands had become slick with sweat. The Time-Turner slipped. He caught it, just in time…but by catching it, he had to stop turning.
A wind pulled him forward at breakneck speed.
~~~~~
Hermione was sitting in the Black family library, attempting to read about Horcruxes.
She didn't particularly want to--it was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and she'd much rather be doing…well, anything else. But there was a war on. Voldemort and his forces weren't going to stop fighting the war because it was a lazy sort of day.
If only the book weren't so dry. It was like trying to pay attention to Professor Binns.
She sighed, and put it aside for later. At the least, it would be a good antidote to insomnia.
She turned toward the bookcases, hoping to see something, anything, that she hadn't examined fifty times before…
...when a boy materialised in front of them.
He looked ill. That was the first thing Hermione noticed. The second thing she thought was, It's Sirius. Sirius, come back. But how?
The boy looked up at her and groaned. "Get a Healer. Now. I've been poisoned."
Hermione didn't say that getting a Healer to the Unplottable headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix might be a bit difficult. Instead, she asked, "Who are you?"
"Regulus Black," came the weak answer. "Who're you?" He squinted up at her. "I don't think that you're one of my relatives, are you?"
"No, I'm not." A thought struck her. "Is your middle initial A?"
The boy looked at her as if she were daft. "Of course. A for Arcturus." A sudden cramp seized him, and he was sick all over the carpet. "Sorry," he whispered.
"I'll-I'll go get someone to help," Hermione stammered, moving toward the door. "Er…do you know anything about Horcruxes?"
In answer, Regulus opened his left hand. An ornate gold locket lay there.
Hermione repressed the urge to snatch it out of his hand. "That's--that's the one from the cave? The one that was replaced?"
Regulus tried to nod. "Mother was fond of lockets. There are lockets all over this house. Finding a replacement wasn't hard." Another cramp tore through him. He turned salt-white. "Hurry. Please. I can't last long."
Hermione looked at him, and knew he was right.
She had no idea how Regulus could be saved, or even if he could be. But she knew she wasn't going to let him go without a fight. She had too many questions to ask him. If he died, they'd drive her mad.
As she ran out the door, calling for help, it occurred to her that this rainy Sunday afternoon had turned out to be anything but dull.
***
Title: Appointment in Samarra
Pairing/Characters: Snape and Lupin
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,758
Prompt: Drought
Summary: Snape's been living in Morocco since shortly after the events of HBP. Now Lupin's found him.
Author's Note: No, Samarra's not in Morocco. It's a town in Iraq, on the east bank of the Tigris. Cookies to whomever gets the literary reference.
Not long after Dumbledore's death, Snape and Draco separated. One day in Bonn, Draco simply vanished, and Snape couldn't find him. Eventually, he gave up and left. He buried himself in Morocco, a place of heat and warmth, without the Scottish mists and English rains that he knew so well.
A year or so after his arrival, the drought began.
It was impossible for him not to dream, now, of water, of the water that England had in abundance. He grew to hate the hot copper sun blazing brazenly in a gas-flame blue sky. He began to loathe the lack of water, the drought of books and libraries in his own language, the spicy foods that baked his thirsty throat all the more.
Most of all, he loathed being alone. He had never liked people much--for good reason, in his view--but he disliked being nothing and no one to his neighbours. Hatred would have been easier to deal with. At least, he would have known that they felt something for him beyond oppressive nothingness.
Then, one day while he was buying water at the market, he spotted Lupin. Or, to be more precise, Lupin spotted him.
The werewolf--still in wretched, ragged clothes, Snape noted--stalked forward, stiff-legged. "You," he whispered.
Snape tried to quell the fear rising in his gorge. "Yes, me. Good day to you, Lupin. How did you happen to find me?"
"I...now." Lupin stared at him, looking both angry and uncertain. "How could you--why did you…?"
Snape paid the water-seller--who by now was looking entirely too interested in this conversation--hefted his brass jug of water, and led Lupin down a dark alley to a small café in the wizarding quarter. Not that he had the remotest interest in dining with Lupin, but the place was private and the owner knew enough not to ask too many intrusive questions.
He sat down, motioning Lupin to do the same, and ordered two hot drinks from a passing waiter.
After a moment, during which Lupin favored Snape with a murderous glare, Lupin sat down as well.
The werewolf's voice, when he spoke, was mild. "I don't understand how you could do something like that."
"Meaning Dumbledore's murder?" Snape said, enjoying the flinch the words produced and trying not to wince inwardly himself. "He asked me to do it. Between the poison he'd ingested and the injury he'd suffered when he destroyed Salazar's ring, he was dying anyway. I'd like to think that my way was at least quicker...and perhaps a bit more humane. Ah, but you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Lupin's brown eyes narrowed. "Contrary to popular opinion, I do know what it feels like to be human."
"I said 'humane,' not 'human.' Pray endeavour to expand your vocabulary, Lupin. There is a difference."
"I find it hard to believe that you killed Dumbledore out of altruism."
"He was dying," Snape repeated patiently. "He would have died no matter what I did. Besides, I think there's something that you've forgotten. Dumbledore was a Legilimens. I am better at Occlumency, but it isn't possible to block others' minds without being able to read them yourself.
"Did Potter mention that he stared at me for a long time before he died?"
That rocked Lupin, Snape was pleased to see.
"Stared at you? But--but why would he use--"
"Because a number of other Death Eaters were already present," Snape said, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes. Gryffindors had no sense. "It might have been a bit difficult for him to beg me for a merciful death out loud, or for me to oblige. This way, he looked as if he were pleading for mercy, and I proved once and for all that I was a selfish and murderous Death Eater."
"You're saying that this was a plan?"
"Improvisation," Snape said with a shrug. "There really wasn't any time to plan anything out in detail." He looked thoughtful. "Please convey my thanks to Potter. If not for his outrage and fury, I'm not certain that the other Death Eaters would have accepted Dumbledore's death as proof of my loyalty quite so easily. He was most...convincing."
"He hates you."
"Am I supposed to weep great tears of sorrow for that?" Snape yawned offensively. "Potter has always hated and distrusted me; nothing has changed in that regard. Pick another choice."
Lupin scrutinised him carefully. "Why did you flee, if Dumbledore's death established your loyalty once and for all?"
"My loyalty was proven," Snape said dryly. "Young Mister Malfoy's, however, was not. He had failed, quite spectacularly, and his life was forfeit. I had hoped that I would be able to help him escape for a day or so and then meet with the Dark Lord later. Unfortunately, the boy was helpless on his own. He couldn't act. He could barely think. Much like the wizarding world regarding Potter, in fact."
"You didn't have to save Draco."
"As a matter of fact," Snape said, "I did. Oh, don't gape, Lupin. It makes you look like a codfish."
Lupin, who had indeed been gaping, closed his mouth with a snap. At last he said, "Why?"
"A vow." Snape hoped that his tone made it clear that he was not going to discuss this any further.
"You could have told us!"
This time Snape DID roll his eyes. "I will never understand what passes for brains among Gryffindors. Do you all believe that there is some sort of code which must be followed in war, some method that makes war honorable?
"I assure you, the Dark Lord is not so deluded. He watches his people day and night. I had been under personal scrutiny for at least a year before I vowed to protect young Malfoy. And were any of my actions to escape his notice...well. I remind you again--he is a Legilimens. And while I am skilled at blocking others--even him--from my mind, others who have been in contact with me are rarely so gifted. Do you get the point?"
Lupin paled. "I don't think Dumbledore knew it was that dangerous for you."
Snape regarded Lupin with a jaundiced eye. "Really. He thought that you and Fenrir Greyback were the best of friends, then? He didn't know Greyback would tear your throat out without a single thought?"
Lupin pressed his lips together so tightly that they were little more than a straight white line. "Will you be coming back?"
That, at least, was easy. "No."
"You could serve the Order again--"
"What makes you think I wanted to serve the Order in the first place?"
"But...you joined. You changed sides, and you joined."
"Dumbledore made it clear--it was that or Azkaban. I thought I would prefer a jail without walls."
"If you're afraid...I could tell the others what you told me. It does make sense."
Snape sighed. "No. I simply do not want to be part of that pointless war any longer. I did not choose to break with either the Order or the Death Eaters, but having done so, I will not go back. I have done everything I can do. It is no longer my war."
"Harry's found two of the Horcruxes."
"Has he. That must be great fun for him and his little friends. Like a large-scale scavenger hunt." Snape glanced at Lupin. "You still think that Potter is going to win, don't you?"
"He has to," Lupin said, as if explaining something to a child. "The prophecy says that Harry has power the Dark Lord knows not..."
"The only power Potter possesses in abundance," Snape said sourly, "is luck. And luck, in the end, will not save him. The Dark Lord could have killed him years ago, if he had simply given up the idea of using the Killing Curse. All he has to do is hit Potter with the Full-Body Bind--thus paralysing him and rendering him mute--Expelliarmus his wand, and then summon Walden Macnair to chop the boy's head off. Extremely simple. Be grateful I am not the Dark Lord."
Lupin blinked. Snape had a feeling that particular method had never occurred to him.
After the waiter had arrived with their hot tea and then scurried away, Lupin rose from the table. "You've explained your position quite well. I can't say I agree with you on every point, but then, we've never agreed on much."
"I suppose," said Snape, forcing the words out as if they were stones with jagged edges, "that I should thank you, Lupin."
Lupin smiled slightly. It was not a pleasant smile, Snape noted. "Yes, you should. But I doubt whether you will. You know, you never asked how I managed to find you in the first place."
Snape felt as if his tongue and throat were so dry as to be made of desert sand. "You've been looking for me."
"Oh, yes. For quite some time. We'd hoped that you had some additional information to give us, some further details to offer about You-Know-Who's contacts in Europe and the Middle East. It never occurred to anyone that you hadn't been in touch with the other side at all."
Surreptitiously, Snape tried to draw his wand--only to have Lupin reach across the table and clamp his left arm on Snape's with a vice-like grip. "Sorry, Severus," he murmured. "I can't let you do that."
Snape stared up at Lupin, who was now pressing his wand against Snape's head. "What are you going to do?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could manage. Not that he had any doubts. He just wanted Lupin to say it.
"I'm going to eliminate a threat to the Order. Permanently. As you pointed out, You-Know-Who is a Legilimens. And, quite possibly, so are some of his people. And you're not guarding your mind any longer. Anyone could read your mind and learn all of the Order's secrets."
"I doubt it," Snape sneered.
"I don't," said Lupin calmly. "After all, I did."
Snape stared at Lupin. He knew he couldn't have heard that right.
"So you see," Lupin continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "we can't let things continue on this way. You're a danger to all of us now. I loathe this, but there's simply no other way."
Snape shut his eyes.
The last thing he heard before a dust storm-like blackness swept over him in waves, choking off and burying thoughts in barren wastes, was:
"Obliviate."
***
Oh, and spoilers for HBP in both.
Title: Untitled (can anyone suggest a good title for this?)
Pairing/Characters: Regulus and Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 762
Prompt: a rainy Sunday afternoon
Summary: Regulus needs an escape route. Hermione needs some answers.
***
They were coming for him.
And he couldn't stop to think about that, not if he wanted to escape them.
He had just been lucky that he'd found the right book in the Black family library, one that told him how to transform a normal Time-Turner into one that sent you forward into the future. It had taken Transfiguration, charms and a very nasty potion that stank of Jobberknoll feathers.
But he had done it. At least, he hoped he had. If he could just keep turning the Time-Turner enough times.
Twenty-four turns equaled one day. One hundred and sixty-eight turns equaled one week. Six hundred seventy-two turns equaled one month. Eight thousand sixty-four turns equaled one year.
How many turns he'd have to make to reach a future where the Death Eaters had stopped searching for him and he would be safe...well, he didn't know. Every time he thought about it, he just tacked on more turns. The farther he got from here and now, the better.
He didn't know if he could live in the future, or if it would create some ghastly paradox like in Peter's science fiction stories. But he couldn't waste time worrying about it. A million and one things could go wrong if he did go forward in time…but he definitely knew that two things would go wrong if he stayed. He had to hope that the future had some sort of cure for the poison he'd drunk, and that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters didn't rule the future.
Turn and turn and turn. And don't stop. If he stopped, the spell would start. And he doubted, based on the fever heating his bones and the cramps in his stomach, that he would get a second chance. He had to make the first one count.
When he stopped, it wasn't his choice. His hands had become slick with sweat. The Time-Turner slipped. He caught it, just in time…but by catching it, he had to stop turning.
A wind pulled him forward at breakneck speed.
~~~~~
Hermione was sitting in the Black family library, attempting to read about Horcruxes.
She didn't particularly want to--it was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and she'd much rather be doing…well, anything else. But there was a war on. Voldemort and his forces weren't going to stop fighting the war because it was a lazy sort of day.
If only the book weren't so dry. It was like trying to pay attention to Professor Binns.
She sighed, and put it aside for later. At the least, it would be a good antidote to insomnia.
She turned toward the bookcases, hoping to see something, anything, that she hadn't examined fifty times before…
...when a boy materialised in front of them.
He looked ill. That was the first thing Hermione noticed. The second thing she thought was, It's Sirius. Sirius, come back. But how?
The boy looked up at her and groaned. "Get a Healer. Now. I've been poisoned."
Hermione didn't say that getting a Healer to the Unplottable headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix might be a bit difficult. Instead, she asked, "Who are you?"
"Regulus Black," came the weak answer. "Who're you?" He squinted up at her. "I don't think that you're one of my relatives, are you?"
"No, I'm not." A thought struck her. "Is your middle initial A?"
The boy looked at her as if she were daft. "Of course. A for Arcturus." A sudden cramp seized him, and he was sick all over the carpet. "Sorry," he whispered.
"I'll-I'll go get someone to help," Hermione stammered, moving toward the door. "Er…do you know anything about Horcruxes?"
In answer, Regulus opened his left hand. An ornate gold locket lay there.
Hermione repressed the urge to snatch it out of his hand. "That's--that's the one from the cave? The one that was replaced?"
Regulus tried to nod. "Mother was fond of lockets. There are lockets all over this house. Finding a replacement wasn't hard." Another cramp tore through him. He turned salt-white. "Hurry. Please. I can't last long."
Hermione looked at him, and knew he was right.
She had no idea how Regulus could be saved, or even if he could be. But she knew she wasn't going to let him go without a fight. She had too many questions to ask him. If he died, they'd drive her mad.
As she ran out the door, calling for help, it occurred to her that this rainy Sunday afternoon had turned out to be anything but dull.
***
Title: Appointment in Samarra
Pairing/Characters: Snape and Lupin
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,758
Prompt: Drought
Summary: Snape's been living in Morocco since shortly after the events of HBP. Now Lupin's found him.
Author's Note: No, Samarra's not in Morocco. It's a town in Iraq, on the east bank of the Tigris. Cookies to whomever gets the literary reference.
Not long after Dumbledore's death, Snape and Draco separated. One day in Bonn, Draco simply vanished, and Snape couldn't find him. Eventually, he gave up and left. He buried himself in Morocco, a place of heat and warmth, without the Scottish mists and English rains that he knew so well.
A year or so after his arrival, the drought began.
It was impossible for him not to dream, now, of water, of the water that England had in abundance. He grew to hate the hot copper sun blazing brazenly in a gas-flame blue sky. He began to loathe the lack of water, the drought of books and libraries in his own language, the spicy foods that baked his thirsty throat all the more.
Most of all, he loathed being alone. He had never liked people much--for good reason, in his view--but he disliked being nothing and no one to his neighbours. Hatred would have been easier to deal with. At least, he would have known that they felt something for him beyond oppressive nothingness.
Then, one day while he was buying water at the market, he spotted Lupin. Or, to be more precise, Lupin spotted him.
The werewolf--still in wretched, ragged clothes, Snape noted--stalked forward, stiff-legged. "You," he whispered.
Snape tried to quell the fear rising in his gorge. "Yes, me. Good day to you, Lupin. How did you happen to find me?"
"I...now." Lupin stared at him, looking both angry and uncertain. "How could you--why did you…?"
Snape paid the water-seller--who by now was looking entirely too interested in this conversation--hefted his brass jug of water, and led Lupin down a dark alley to a small café in the wizarding quarter. Not that he had the remotest interest in dining with Lupin, but the place was private and the owner knew enough not to ask too many intrusive questions.
He sat down, motioning Lupin to do the same, and ordered two hot drinks from a passing waiter.
After a moment, during which Lupin favored Snape with a murderous glare, Lupin sat down as well.
The werewolf's voice, when he spoke, was mild. "I don't understand how you could do something like that."
"Meaning Dumbledore's murder?" Snape said, enjoying the flinch the words produced and trying not to wince inwardly himself. "He asked me to do it. Between the poison he'd ingested and the injury he'd suffered when he destroyed Salazar's ring, he was dying anyway. I'd like to think that my way was at least quicker...and perhaps a bit more humane. Ah, but you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Lupin's brown eyes narrowed. "Contrary to popular opinion, I do know what it feels like to be human."
"I said 'humane,' not 'human.' Pray endeavour to expand your vocabulary, Lupin. There is a difference."
"I find it hard to believe that you killed Dumbledore out of altruism."
"He was dying," Snape repeated patiently. "He would have died no matter what I did. Besides, I think there's something that you've forgotten. Dumbledore was a Legilimens. I am better at Occlumency, but it isn't possible to block others' minds without being able to read them yourself.
"Did Potter mention that he stared at me for a long time before he died?"
That rocked Lupin, Snape was pleased to see.
"Stared at you? But--but why would he use--"
"Because a number of other Death Eaters were already present," Snape said, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes. Gryffindors had no sense. "It might have been a bit difficult for him to beg me for a merciful death out loud, or for me to oblige. This way, he looked as if he were pleading for mercy, and I proved once and for all that I was a selfish and murderous Death Eater."
"You're saying that this was a plan?"
"Improvisation," Snape said with a shrug. "There really wasn't any time to plan anything out in detail." He looked thoughtful. "Please convey my thanks to Potter. If not for his outrage and fury, I'm not certain that the other Death Eaters would have accepted Dumbledore's death as proof of my loyalty quite so easily. He was most...convincing."
"He hates you."
"Am I supposed to weep great tears of sorrow for that?" Snape yawned offensively. "Potter has always hated and distrusted me; nothing has changed in that regard. Pick another choice."
Lupin scrutinised him carefully. "Why did you flee, if Dumbledore's death established your loyalty once and for all?"
"My loyalty was proven," Snape said dryly. "Young Mister Malfoy's, however, was not. He had failed, quite spectacularly, and his life was forfeit. I had hoped that I would be able to help him escape for a day or so and then meet with the Dark Lord later. Unfortunately, the boy was helpless on his own. He couldn't act. He could barely think. Much like the wizarding world regarding Potter, in fact."
"You didn't have to save Draco."
"As a matter of fact," Snape said, "I did. Oh, don't gape, Lupin. It makes you look like a codfish."
Lupin, who had indeed been gaping, closed his mouth with a snap. At last he said, "Why?"
"A vow." Snape hoped that his tone made it clear that he was not going to discuss this any further.
"You could have told us!"
This time Snape DID roll his eyes. "I will never understand what passes for brains among Gryffindors. Do you all believe that there is some sort of code which must be followed in war, some method that makes war honorable?
"I assure you, the Dark Lord is not so deluded. He watches his people day and night. I had been under personal scrutiny for at least a year before I vowed to protect young Malfoy. And were any of my actions to escape his notice...well. I remind you again--he is a Legilimens. And while I am skilled at blocking others--even him--from my mind, others who have been in contact with me are rarely so gifted. Do you get the point?"
Lupin paled. "I don't think Dumbledore knew it was that dangerous for you."
Snape regarded Lupin with a jaundiced eye. "Really. He thought that you and Fenrir Greyback were the best of friends, then? He didn't know Greyback would tear your throat out without a single thought?"
Lupin pressed his lips together so tightly that they were little more than a straight white line. "Will you be coming back?"
That, at least, was easy. "No."
"You could serve the Order again--"
"What makes you think I wanted to serve the Order in the first place?"
"But...you joined. You changed sides, and you joined."
"Dumbledore made it clear--it was that or Azkaban. I thought I would prefer a jail without walls."
"If you're afraid...I could tell the others what you told me. It does make sense."
Snape sighed. "No. I simply do not want to be part of that pointless war any longer. I did not choose to break with either the Order or the Death Eaters, but having done so, I will not go back. I have done everything I can do. It is no longer my war."
"Harry's found two of the Horcruxes."
"Has he. That must be great fun for him and his little friends. Like a large-scale scavenger hunt." Snape glanced at Lupin. "You still think that Potter is going to win, don't you?"
"He has to," Lupin said, as if explaining something to a child. "The prophecy says that Harry has power the Dark Lord knows not..."
"The only power Potter possesses in abundance," Snape said sourly, "is luck. And luck, in the end, will not save him. The Dark Lord could have killed him years ago, if he had simply given up the idea of using the Killing Curse. All he has to do is hit Potter with the Full-Body Bind--thus paralysing him and rendering him mute--Expelliarmus his wand, and then summon Walden Macnair to chop the boy's head off. Extremely simple. Be grateful I am not the Dark Lord."
Lupin blinked. Snape had a feeling that particular method had never occurred to him.
After the waiter had arrived with their hot tea and then scurried away, Lupin rose from the table. "You've explained your position quite well. I can't say I agree with you on every point, but then, we've never agreed on much."
"I suppose," said Snape, forcing the words out as if they were stones with jagged edges, "that I should thank you, Lupin."
Lupin smiled slightly. It was not a pleasant smile, Snape noted. "Yes, you should. But I doubt whether you will. You know, you never asked how I managed to find you in the first place."
Snape felt as if his tongue and throat were so dry as to be made of desert sand. "You've been looking for me."
"Oh, yes. For quite some time. We'd hoped that you had some additional information to give us, some further details to offer about You-Know-Who's contacts in Europe and the Middle East. It never occurred to anyone that you hadn't been in touch with the other side at all."
Surreptitiously, Snape tried to draw his wand--only to have Lupin reach across the table and clamp his left arm on Snape's with a vice-like grip. "Sorry, Severus," he murmured. "I can't let you do that."
Snape stared up at Lupin, who was now pressing his wand against Snape's head. "What are you going to do?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could manage. Not that he had any doubts. He just wanted Lupin to say it.
"I'm going to eliminate a threat to the Order. Permanently. As you pointed out, You-Know-Who is a Legilimens. And, quite possibly, so are some of his people. And you're not guarding your mind any longer. Anyone could read your mind and learn all of the Order's secrets."
"I doubt it," Snape sneered.
"I don't," said Lupin calmly. "After all, I did."
Snape stared at Lupin. He knew he couldn't have heard that right.
"So you see," Lupin continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "we can't let things continue on this way. You're a danger to all of us now. I loathe this, but there's simply no other way."
Snape shut his eyes.
The last thing he heard before a dust storm-like blackness swept over him in waves, choking off and burying thoughts in barren wastes, was:
"Obliviate."
***