tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; The 8th (lol death ramble curse)
Rating; PG-13, maybe? Will edit if it gets worse.
Characters; Severus Snape (

eduronox) and Remus Lupin (

lupusnonfacit)
Summary; It's five days before the full moon, and they'd be meeting anyway to administer Wolfsbane and make sure nobody's going to get eaten anyway. Someone's cursed, though. BUMMER.
Log;

It took him a little while to realize he was cursed. He'd already told Regulus about his death, so he felt no particular urge to spill his soul out at the younger man at breakfast. He did, however, feel suddenly compelled to ramble on about his childhood and school years, so he made an abrupt exit to his laboratory.

Halfway through his standard read-through of the network it dawned on him, and had to curse the device into disintegrating to keep himself from posting an incredibly vulnerable, informative dossier on his own life.

It was about then he got worried.

Potion out, boxed, ready to go - as little conversation as possible. Severus doesn't want to make a spectacle out of this and he knows the damn werewolf is going to try, curse or not. He's considering just canceling the whole thing when the wards go off.

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Snape was very correct-- Remus Lupin hasn't checked around, and he isn't aware that there is a curse. But he would use almost any time he is in the same room with Snape as an excuse to make a spectacle about the fact that he's in the same room as Snape.

And so as soon as he came into the shop, he rested he palms on the counter in front of Snape and leaned forward, almost whispering and almost conspiratorial.

"As usual, you've come through. Even though I went and bullied you the other night. Perhaps I should apologize for that."

He nods, silent, and just shoves the potion at him and moves away, as if Lupin's presence will make the curse stronger. Maybe it will.

It's worse than saying something - he's always got some nasty remark or, even worse, something dead and dull and pointedly ignoring whatever matter is at hand. He knows it'll be obvious something is very off if he doesn't speak.

But it's better than blurting everything out.

Maybe he'll go away.

He doesn't take it yet. Instead, he slides the box slightly to the side and rests his elbows casually on the counter, universal body language for 'why don't I stay a while.' The fact that Severus hasn't given him some kind of acidic barb to weigh on his mind for the next week in exchange for what they both know is in the box is significant.

"Something wrong, Severus? You're unusually subdued."

There's a slight twitch that runs through him and he snaps his hand up to the side of his neck, still turned away from the other man.

He doesn't want to speak. But he can't help it.

"Yes," he says, his voice clipped. "Something is always wrong. Because I can still feel what it's like to have my throat ripped out when my mind is still enough. Just out of the corner of my mind's eye."

He falls quiet, struggling internally.

"I don't want to talk to you about this. I'm cursed."

Remus pauses and becomes still, hands on the desk but eyes suddenly losing some of their color. He's silent for a few moments, but doesn't leave, his expression quiet.

He speaks eventually, after swallowing whatever it was he thought he was planning to say at first. He still doesn't know.

"Talking about it may help. And that's honest advice, not just some overly-positive bit of platitude fluff or me mithering for more information."

"Oh, Christ." He throws his hands up and scrubs his hands over his face, exasperated. Swearing like a Muggle is a bad habit that leaks in when he's exhausted or frazzled. He did it once in front of a collection of his ill-advised peers; Lucius thought it was hilarious and chided him for letting students rub off on him. Bellatrix never forgot it.

"It wasn't a werewolf or you, don't look at me like that. And I have spoken about it, to people I actually don't hate - person. Regulus. It's not like I didn't see it coming, like I didn't know. He apologized for it, as he watched me die."

Severus had been looking at Lupin for a bit, but he's turned away again now, and it's obvious how wound up and anxious he is. He's nearly trembling from the strain of attempting to silence himself - but it's not working, so he's just upset.

"Voldemort as you insist on calling him." It sounds like a swear, when he speaks it, or a holy word. "He didn't mean it. But I think he wanted to. No one - no one knew him. Not really. But I was the closest. Albus thought he knew him but there was so much he didn't understand."

Edited 2008-11-10 02:10 (UTC)

He winces when Severus says, don't look at me like that, because that is exactly what he realizes he was looking at him like. He moves away from his stiff position at the counter, now, closer to the other man, but only slightly.

"So you killed Albus, and then what? Voldemort killed you? Why won't you tell me any of this unless you think it's going to wreck me? Why have I got to force it from you?"

Severus moves away automatically, noticing even the slight nearness unconsciously, hearing him, sensing him. Everything about his body language screams leave me alone I want you to leave I don't want this.

"You... I don't have any concern for you."

He wraps his arms around himself, faced away. Trying to keep it in. He doesn't tell people thinks because he thinks it'll hurt them. He doesn't tell people things because it hurts him to speak of it.

He notices the body language, he always has been good at both giving it and reading it, as Harry was quick to learn. He notices, but doesn't comply, because unfortunately he's caught Snape at a bad time, and Snape has caught him at a bad time.

"And I have little concern for you. Perhaps you, like Peter, deserved to die. But I am not going to let you wander away and forget what I've done, or what you've done. If I am to be your eternal punishment, then I suppose I hope you suffer a little, Severus. Because you aren't going to scare me off, even with news of Albus Dumbledore."

"When I was thirteen," he begins, and it's wrenched from him like he's in physical pain, "My father broke three of my ribs and caused internal bleeding or some other damn thing. He wouldn't let my mother take me to St. Mungo's. We had to wait days before going to the hospital. Lily Evans' father drove me. We grew up together, did you know that? I don't think she told anyone. I think she was ashamed.

"I don't hate Muggles. I hate it when they're connected to magic. I hated my father. I hate you. I hated Black and Potter and I hated Albus Dumbledore for letting you get away with everything. You sit there, talking like Muggles and Wizards should be at peace. There's a reason we hide. Families shouldn't mix like that. Do you know what happens to children of homes like that? Not everyone can handle the culture shock. People... people fear. They hate. They lash out."

"She didn't-- she couldn't have been ashamed," he starts, interjecting weakly, before listening to the rest of Severus' words. Truthfully, he wasn't sympathetic toward his male friends. Realistic and not sympathetic. He regretted never stopping James and Sirius. But with regard to Lily, he still couldn't believe anything bad of her, even something so minor as shame for knowing someone.

It is as Snape continued, however, that he bites his lip and curls his hands into fists, blunt nails biting at the flesh of his palms. He takes a few, long strides toward him.

"You think I don't want to agree with you? Hate and fear? Are you forgetting who you're talking to? Don't be haughty about the way you're dealing with things. I want to agree with you, but if there's no hope for the Muggles, where does that leave me?"

"Dead somewhere for all I care," he snaps, whirling around to face him before moving away again, keeping Lupin in his sights.

"You want to know why I went after you all that night? Because I wanted to know for certain what sort of monsters were pulling Lily away from me. I hate what you are, Lupin, don't mistake that. But perhaps you can take comfort in knowing I hate them more. What you are doesn't compare."

He takes a few steps away from Severus, satisfied with the answers he's being given. Or perhaps not satisfied, because he hasn't been satisfied since he was a little boy. More that he has accepted that it's going to take more than this to wear down a rock with water drops. Time and effort. Or maybe it won't work at all. Acceptance, if not satisfaction. He clears his throat and speaks almost congenially as he takes the box in his arms with care.

"You went after me, Severus, because you're a suicidal fool. No more and no less, likely."

"Well then you should have killed me, shouldn't you. Would have saved everybody quite a lot of trouble."

It's angry and curt but there's a twisted, brutal honesty in it. He's more angry at Lupin undercutting his dedication to Lily than anything.

"But you're incapable of doing anything properly, even delusional fantasies. If I was suicidal I'd have done it myself. I stood between the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore for half my life. Slitting my wrists in a washroom wouldn't have been much of a challenge."

He's already turned and walking away when Severus speaks, but he stops at the words and his back stiffens roughly, although his voice doesn't change in strength or timbre when he responds, clutching the box to his chest.

"If it wasn't out of some kind of recklessness, then what? You were trying to come to her rescue against an obvious threat? I should have told her the truth after James figured me out in the first place, perhaps."

"Speak no more of her to me, I won't answer. It doesn't matter now, and I've sent her away in any event." For her own good.

He all but collapses into the chair behind his desk, graceful even in frustration. "Just leave. It'll be here again for you tomorrow. I might not be."

He pauses with his hand over the doorknob for just a moment, as if to say something else, probably to apologize, but decides against it. He's already done enough, knowing that he was taking advantage of the situation.

So he just leaves, instead.

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