Untitled pt. 3-a
I'm still less than 10% toward the goal, and it's already half-way through the month. Yikes. But I finished grading yesterday, and I have a week before I take anymore papers up, so hopefully, I can make up for some lost time.
This is a partial scene that I finished last night; I'll be working on and hopefully posting the second half soon.
Yanking the charcoal grey cardigan out of the wardrobe, Severus pulled it on and stared grimly at his reflection in the mirror. Baggy corduroy trousers. Plain white shirts that were worn and thin. Cardigans. He desperately hoped he wasn’t stuck in Lupin’s body for long, or he might expire from the sheer tweediness of it all. The only good thing he could say about it was that the thick wool garment was warm.
A clatter in the parlor let him know Lupin had probably just come through the fireplace, and he swept out of the bedroom, letting his features settle into a customary glare now that they no longer had to worry about being overseen or overheard. Sure enough, Lupin stood on the hearth, dusting soot from his sleeves, and he glanced up as Severus walked in and smiled pleasantly.
“I brought the brandy,” he said, and Severus was grateful enough to consider not mocking his wardrobe straight away. “I thought the tea cups might not be large enough, so I scoured these out and brought them, too,” he added, holding up two tumblers that Severus used for mixing liquid ingredients.
On second thought, Severus thought he may well hold his tongue about the tatty cardigans for the rest of the evening.
Lupin poured the brandy and wordlessly offered one makeshift glass to Severus, waiting until he took it before pouring some for himself. Severus managed not to snatch the glass from Lupin’s hand, but just barely, and he settled in a chair near the hearth, drinking deeply. The brandy burned pleasantly in his stomach, and he drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself to face what was coming.
“So.” Lupin spoke up at last, after they had drunk in silence for a few minutes. “I suppose we need to sort out how we’re going to pretend to be each other. Unless you have any suggestions about switching us back?” There was a hopeful note in his voice, and Severus shot him a quelling glare.
“If I did, I would have made them already,” he retorted. “There isn’t a potion I can conveniently brew for bodies, the switching thereof.”
“What about Polyjuice?”
Severus gave Lupin a look he usually reserved for particularly stupid students. “That takes weeks to brew, Lupin, and I don’t happen to keep it in stock. By the time it’s ready to take, we could already be back in our proper bodies.”
“Oh, right.” Lupin appeared crestfallen, and he finished off his first glass, reaching for the bottle to pour another. “Well, there’s nothing for it, then, unless Albus and Bill can figure out what happened.”
“You don’t supposed those damned werewolves did something, do you?”
Lupin narrowed his eyes. “Those ‘damned werewolves’, as you put it, happen to be friends of mine. You and Giles may not have got on, but they have no reason to wish me ill.”
“Well, the timing is suspicious,” Severus replied tersely. “The Portkey worked fine the first time.”
“As if there’s no such thing as a delayed spell effect.” Lupin shook his head. “I refuse to consider the possibility that they tampered with it. They have no motive, particularly since they accepted Albus’ offer. They’re on our side, not Voldemort’s.”
Severus flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, his fingers creeping to his left forearm. “That Giles person hated me,” he snapped back. “Isn’t that motive enough?”
“He wouldn’t have disliked you if you hadn’t been so rude and arrogant,” Lupin replied. “You didn’t even bother to hide the fact that you hate werewolves.”
“I was there to explain the Wolfsbane potion, not be the ambassador of goodness and light. That was your job.”
Lupin gave an amused snort. “A little tact wouldn’t have been amiss. Still, I don’t think Giles was responsible.”
“I’m less concerned about who and why than I am with how.” Severus waved one hand dismissively. “Or rather, how to reverse it.”
“As am I,” Lupin said quietly. “But for now, we are stuck, and we must make certain no one suspects that we are not ourselves - which means no more quarreling at dinner,” he added with a rueful little smile.
Severus drained his glass and poured himself some more brandy, noticing that Lupin was already half-way through his second glass. “I won’t if you won’t,” he retorted. “You were the one who started it with all that nonsense about your mustache.”
“You shaved it off!” Lupin’s expression was one of disbelief as if he still couldn’t accept that his mustache was gone, but then he shook his head. “Never mind. It’s over and done with, and I can grow another once we’re back where we belong. Tonight, we need to focus on ways to make sure we don’t betray ourselves. Although,” he added, with a mischievous gleam that looked out of place in Severus’ dark eyes, “I think I can do a passable imitation.”
Setting his glass aside, he rose to his feet and, with an expansive gesture that caused his voluminous black sleeves to settle around him like a bat’s wings, he folded his arms, drew himself up to his full height, and peered at Severus down his nose, his lip curling in a disdainful sneer. “Potter, you insolent brat! That will be one million points from Gryffindor for breathing the wrong way!”
Oh, really.
It was Severus’ turn to narrow his eyes as he glared up at Lupin, who appeared unrepentant. Well, two could play at that game.
“I think I have a rather good idea of how to imitate you as well,” he said, his voice icy.
Surging to his feet, he clasped his hands together and mustered the widest, most insincere smile he could manage. “Aren’t you a clever girl, Miss Granger. That will be five points to Gryffindor. And another five points to you, Mr. Longbottom, for not curling up under your desk and shrieking like a little girl at the sight of a grindylow. We must build up your self-esteem and make you believe you’re not really a useless pudding! And let’s have some music while we’re at it, because lively Muggle music is most certainly conducive to concentration on our lessons.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of the cardigan, and his fingers brushed against the wrapper of a chocolate bar. Or rather the remains of one, he thought as he pulled it out and saw there were only a couple of squares left. The rich scent of the dark chocolate wafted up, and he inhaled deeply, his mouth watering - and then it occurred to him that he could eat chocolate without ill-effect.
With a pursed-mouth little smirk, he unwrapped the chocolate, broke off a square, and popped it into his mouth, reveling in the look of despair he saw on Lupin’s face. “Let’s not forget to eat our chocolate either. It helps,” he said, evil glee thrumming in the undercurrent of his voice. “It really helps.”
“Sometimes you can be a right bastard, Severus.” Lupin was staring at the chocolate and licking his lips. “How bad is your allergic reaction, exactly?”
“Very. It makes me break out into hives, and it constricts my breathing.”
“Damn.”