Aurora Frangit
Sirius was awakened by footsteps in the corridor. He'd developed a nasty habit over the past few days of falling asleep whenever and wherever, as long as it was next to Remus. His senses weren't as alert as they used to be, and when Sirius was sad, Padfoot wasn't at his best either. The war had barely started, and he was able to live in a real house - as much as he hated this one - and nothing was right. Already. This was not what Sirius had imagined when he escaped from Azkaban. He had only intended to kill Peter and protect Harry. He hadn't thought about what would happen next, he hadn't thought that the filthy rat would get away with it again and that he, Sirius, would find himself in the middle of a new war with only a handful of people believing in his innocence.
Sirius hadn't thought that Remus could be injured so quickly and find himself on the brink of death. Bloody hell, next time he'd insist more on Dumbledore asking him to accompany his Moony in dog form. After all, Padfoot had experience with werewolves, and most of his memories of their excursions were beautiful and full of adventure. With a wistful smile, he had often remembered Remus's face when they had turned into animals in front of him. James, Sirius and the traitor. When he had first tried to make his Patronus, Sirius had thought as hard as he could about the look on Moony's face when Padfoot had appeared that day. It had been incredibly beautiful, exactly what friendship should be. It had worked. After a few tries, his silver dog had soared through the air, even though Remus had been the first (with Lily) in their class to succeed. Later, Sirius had also thought about the wedding of the best friend he'd ever had and would never have. How happy he'd been to be his best man, to sign what he thought would be a lifelong bond. He wasn't sure if he could conjure up his silver dog these last few days. He'd tried to contact Snape that way, but he'd had to resort to writing a lousy letter using his godson's owl, which had brought him a birthday letter that morning.
After all, Sirius wasn't necessarily ashamed that he couldn't do it anymore, it would come back. It had to come back. He remembered very well how he had teased Snape at the time for never being able to conjure a Patronus himself. Snape, always brilliant. Earlier in the summer, Sirius had brought up the subject of the Patronus to get a reaction from the other man, but he had avoided the subject in a bad mood. Severus bloody Snape was the name of the other major problem in Sirius Black's life. For if Sirius had not expected the turn his life had taken since his escape, he had even less expected to get closer to the old Snivellus of his teenage years. He knew now that he would never use that name to address the Slytherin again.
Sometimes Sirius wondered if he wasn't losing his mind, confusing his desires with the idea of his desires and a form of reality closer to a dream than life itself. For in his desires, Severus Snape was at the top of the list. Sirius couldn't explain it to himself. He had literally loved taking care of his former enemy and it was as if he was suddenly no longer the greasy git standing in front of him, but a man who attracted him more than anything else. Sirius didn't think the attraction was mutual; Snape spent his time spurning his advances, avoiding his compliments and running away from his need for affection. And yet he kept coming back.
And there he was in the doorway, a thin black shadow, his hair framing his angular face and large dark circles highlighting his 'doe eyes', as Sirius had confessed to him in a moment of weakness.
Sirius struggled to his feet, emaciated from lack of sleep.
“Black?" asked Snape in a deep voice.
“Are you back already?" muttered Sirius, running a hand over his face.
“Yes, I am. I remembered where I'd read something that could potentially help Lupin.”
Sirius was now fully awake, hope making his heart beat painfully.
"So you found something? Are you going to save him?"
"Always with the big words, Black," Snape replied. "I've done what I can, and if it doesn't work, there's nothing more I can do. But I'd be surprised if it didn't work," he added hastily, looking at Sirius's face.
“Severus,” Sirius began. “I'm sorry about earlier, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. And you're back, you... thank you.”
Sirius saw the Slytherin's expression soften slightly before he shrugged. By Merlin, what he'd give to know what was going on inside Severus Snape's head! He'd never been much of an Occlumens.
“It's all right," he just said.
Severus took a vial from his worn leather bag. The vial was very small and contained a dark purple liquid swirling inside. Sirius watched as he carefully placed it on the floor beside him before taking out a large book with a dark brown, battered cover.
“What time is it," Sirius asked, trying to put off asking Severus about his intentions.
“It wasn't quite eleven when I left Hogwarts," he murmured without looking up.
Sirius watched the man kneel in front of the thick book and reach for a page. His hair fell in front of his face and Sirius had to suppress the urge to stroke it and tie it into a ponytail. As far as he could remember he had never seen Severus with his hair tied back. The thought suddenly seemed to obsess him. Sirius imagined lifting it to the nape of his neck and kissing him gently on the top of his spine. He imagined Snape moaning with pleasure and stretching his neck, eager to feel Sirius's mouth against his skin.
“Black? Are you listening?" came Severus's irritated voice.
Sirius snapped out of his reverie.
“What? I'm sorry. I was lost in thought.”
“I noticed," Severus replied coolly. “I was asking if you wanted to stay while I did the enchanting.”
“What are you going to do?" asked Sirius, feeling his mouth go dry.
“I'm going to start administering this potion to Lupin, then I'll have to perform a particularly complex enchantment. If you can't control yourself, I'd prefer it if you left.”
“What is this potion? And this enchantment?”
“I don't have time to explain now," sighed Snape. “I don't have a lot of energy in me already, so if I could avoid wasting it, I'd be better off.”
Sirius gave him a dark look that he knew was more sadness than anger.
“It's a potion that should normally help his werewolf metabolism to take over, the incantation I'm going to say is supposed to interact with the potion and heal the wounds.”
“What do you mean his werewolf metabolism?" asked Sirius, frowning.
“Stop asking me questions, we've wasted enough time as it is! I'll explain later.”
Sirius met Severus's furious gaze. The Slytherin did indeed look exhausted. Sirius sighed and couldn't help but speak in a plaintive voice.
“I trust you, Severus. I've already lost my best friend, please save the other one, do it for me.”
He had almost whispered those last words. And Snape rolled his eyes.
“You're so dramatic! And don't look at me like that, you're making me nervous.”
“Sorry," Sirius mumbled, blushing slightly.
There was an awkward silence. Sirius had the impression that Snape wanted to say something, but nothing came. After a minute or so, the Potions Master stood up.
“I'll give the potion to Lupin. I'm warning you Black that under no circumstances are you to interfere. It would even be better if you left. But as I know you and I know you're not going to do it, I'd rather tell you again. Stay a spectator.”
“I get it, I'm not stupid.”
Snape raised an eyebrow and his expression suggested that he didn't necessarily agree with that statement.
“I promise," repeated Sirius. “I won't interfere.”
“And I promise you that I won't hesitate to immobilise you and leave you in a corner if you try anything.”
At another time, Sirius would have been delighted at the prospect of being tied up by Severus Snape. But not tonight. He nodded to show he understood.
“I'll begin," Severus announced as he moved towards Remus's prone form.
Sirius felt his heart threaten to leave his ribcage and he wondered why Severus had been so insistent that he must not intervene. Was it going to be dangerous? Would Remus suffer? Sirius knew he would find it hard to hold back if his friend showed signs of pain.
He saw Severus pour the contents of the vial into Remus's mouth. Then he reached for the book and raised his wand, and Sirius noticed the look of concentration on his face. Then he heard the noises. Unpleasant sounds, as if something was crunching, as if... bones were breaking. Sirius opened his eyes in horror. He watched as Remus's form shook on the sofa and the noises increased in intensity. He saw his friend's limbs begin to stretch and writhe, the wounds bleeding with more intensity than in recent days. Sirius put his hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from screaming or crying, he wasn't quite sure. He had promised Severus not to disturb him. He trusted him.
Then he saw the Potions Master point his wand at his friend and start to say something. At first Sirius didn't understand, but then he recognised Latin. He had been forced to learn this language to respect family traditions. He was unable to translate what Severus was saying, but he knew that long incantations in Latin had for the most part been banned from the common use of magic, very often equated with black magic or ancestral healing techniques rendered obsolete by the progress of magical medical science. What was Severus doing?
“Cut caro et fluens sanguis, Heroes vere boni sunt. Fames satur et sitis ebrius est, Hanc illis honorem debent.”
Remus' body was writhing on the bed. Sirius could hear the sound of cracking bones; his friend's clothes were torn and his wounds bled even more. Sirius felt nausea overcome him and, without being able to do anything about it, he felt his cheeks wet with tears.
“Nox cadit. Haec luna est! Ea media hidis et ostendit, Facies hypocritica eius quasi a, Complice pietatis simulantis."
A howl cut through Severus's repeated incantation. A hoarse, non-human howl, but not quite that of a beast either. Sirius had cowered in the corner of the room so as not to disturb Severus, but he realised now that it was also because he was afraid. Afraid of breaking his promise and lunging at Remus, afraid of seeing his friend suffer too closely and afraid of lashing out at Severus for administering the pain.
With a wave of his wand, Severus forced Remus's body onto the blood-stained sofa. He began to recite the incantation louder and louder.
“Et habemus quod manducemus, Hic appetitus imperialis est; Proelium sine domino, Neque inane, neque parvum."
Sirius did not know how long he had been watching this macabre spectacle. Severus's voice was getting louder and louder, but Remus's jolts did not seem to weaken. What if Severus's plan, whatever it was, failed? What if the blood pouring from his friend's body did not dry up? Sirius fought the urge to get up and walk over to his friend, if only to let him know he was there. That he had not abandoned him.
Suddenly, Severus stopped talking. A soft light came from his wand and he moved as if to sweep the space above Remus. The light spread over the body before disappearing. Severus repeated the same movement and again the light moved over Remus's now inert body. The screeching had stopped and Sirius realised that his friend had regained his normal human proportions. The blood, however, had not disappeared and Sirius could hardly make out the colour of Remus's skin, as if it had been painted a dark red. The smell made him nauseous again, but Sirius could not take his eyes off the scene.
Severus kept casting the spell over and over again without saying a spell aloud. Sirius did not know it and watched the light appear like a cloud of golden dust from the end of Severus's wand. He did it again, and again, and again. No matter what he seemed to be trying to achieve, Sirius felt his stomach knot a little more every moment because nothing was happening.
Then he heard a grunt. He thought it was Remus waking up but realised it was Severus who had fallen to his knees in a pool of blood. Sirius got up at once and moved forward on wobbly legs.
“No," Severus' voice, hoarse from straining too hard, told him.
Sirius froze in place. He saw the Slytherin rise to his feet and lean over Severus again, his hands trembling. Sirius wondered how he managed to stand, how he had the strength to raise his wand. And then the light came out of the end of the carved black wood again. Stronger and more powerful than before. Sirius shifted to the side to get a better look. Severus did it again and even more intensity was projected over Remus's body. He grunted again and Sirius was convinced that he too was feeling some form of pain. His suspicions were sadly confirmed as he saw blood begin to pour from Severus's nose as he did it again.
Fuck, what was he supposed to do? Sirius reached for his wand without a clue. He was panicking. He didn't know what he was going through or what Severus's intentions had been, but it didn't seem to be working. He didn't even know if Remus was still alive. His own blood pulsed in his temples, and Sirius took a step towards the two wizards. Just then Severus turned to him.
“Black," he said hoarsely. “I'm sorry.”
Sorry about what? Sorry for what? What did that mean?
“Can I help you?" asked Sirius in a voice he didn't recognise.
“There's nothing more to be done.”
Sirius felt a cold chill come over him. He staggered towards the two men and dropped to the ground.
“Try again," he begged, looking up at Snape.
The man looked as if he was about to faint. Blood smeared his face and hair. Underneath he was pale as death.
“I've already tried," he replied in a voice softened by his lack of strength.
“One more time, please Severus, one last time," sobbed Sirius.
Severus looked at him, his eyes filled with a despair at least as sincere as Sirius'. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if burnt by grief and exhaustion, then opened them again. Sirius could see no determination in the Slytherin's dark eyes, only resignation and acceptance of defeat. But he raised his wand again. And Sirius heard him whisper:
“Aurora Frangit”
Light burst from the end of his wand. Sirius stepped back, dazzled. Then he knew what he had to do. He stood up and uttered the same incantation.
“Aurora Frangit”
His voice was loud and clear, desperate. The two men cast the spell in unison. Sirius's light was much weaker than Severus's and he could barely direct it over Remus's body before it evaporated, copying the Professor's gestures. Sirius felt the energy leave his own body. His limbs went cold and he felt himself becoming stiff and unhappy. After a while he gave up. He let himself fall back to the floor as Severus continued his gestures. How could he do it? How was it humanly possible to withstand such a mobilisation of magic? How could one man produce this spell so many times?
All Sirius could hear was a hum. He was on his knees, engulfed in the sticky blood of his surely dead friend. He could feel the blood sticking to his skin. He was powerless to do anything. His brain was incapable of thinking. After a moment he placed his palms on the floor in front of him and they touched the carpet. Dry and warm. What was that?
Sirius fluttered his eyelids. The carpet was clean. How was that possible when a moment before it had been soaked in blood? He raised his head and then his whole body. Severus was still standing over Remus, but this time the light was red. The blood was disappearing. It was evaporating and Sirius realised that Severus was returning it to Remus's body. Through his tears, Sirius saw Remus's body return to its normal appearance, the wounds disappearing from his skin marked with many old and new scars, the hair growing back all over his head, his swollen face looking almost younger, free of its bruises. Remus Lupin was healing, saved by Severus's magic.
Sirius stood beside him, not moving, not saying a word. The blood was now completely gone. Remus lay naked, and as Severus lowered his wand one last time, Sirius grabbed the now clean blanket and folded it gently over his friend's body. He saw the breath lift from his ribcage and the features of his face, free of pain at last, soften.
“Severus," he murmured.
Sirius came towards him. He felt tears of gratitude running down his cheeks.
“Severus, you saved him.”
“Yes," said the Slytherin's exhausted voice.
Severus kept his eyes fixed on the floor at the foot of the sofa and Sirius suspected he was blinded by exhaustion.
“I'll do anything you want," Sirius promised him. “I can't thank you enough, you've been amazing, your magic is exceptional, you're exceptional...”
Severus looked up at him and a semblance of a smile played across his mouth, covered in dried blood.
“Happy birthday, Sirius.”