The decline (and recovery?) of Remus Lupin

severus is considering shoving a knife into his head in order to get rid of his fucking headache, when mcgonagall steps a foot into the already cramped bathroom. 

"back so soon?" he says, sarcastically. 

"dumbledore said he'd come and evaluate a little later- oh merlin. what happened here?"

"i think perhaps when you tell me you'll be a moment, that you should assume most people don't conflate that with well over an hour" 

"i mean, i was trying to be polite, severus"

"maybe let's forgo politeness in favour of transparency the next time there's a half dead colleague on the floor"

"are you going to- can you just tell me what happened?"

he frustratingly closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and staring at lupin, unconscious on the floor and marinating in his own vomit. 

god. how did he end up here?

"so. he vomited most of the potion. too much of it for it to have done much, if anything, it may have exacerbated what is going on... uh. internally"

"he..." minerva seems to choose her words carefully, as if uncertain to face the reality he's almost sure she knows of, "couldn't stomach it?"

"yes," he grits his teeth and murmurs through them, "he couldn't.. stomach it"

"well. poppy will be down any moment. she's finishing up with a few students"

"brilliant" he says shortly, with a hint of cynicism. 

"should we clean him up? i think he deserves a bit of decency, no?"

"you want me to give him a shower?" shock almost colours his usual dry tone. 

"at the very least cast scourgify, severus"

"i'd still have to undress him"

she raises an eyebrow. "scourgify, aguamenti, then dry him off quickly. you might teach potions, severus, but i know you're fully aware of these charms"

"i- right. no, i know" he grits out, "it's not exactly like i've ever had to deal with this situation before minerva"

"hm. i have"

he raises an eyebrow and says nothing at all.

god. i'm so tired. what's happened? 

has something happened?

i feel...

okay?

remus bolts upright in a flurry of panic and finds himself laid out on a cushy mattress.

"oh bloody hell" poppy clutches her chest in shock, "are you okay remus?"

he says nothing and tries to stop the panic from bubbling out of his throat, swallowing a lump. 

where is he?

"do you have any pain?"

"i- no, i don't"

"okay, brilliant. i think dumbledore will be on his way any moment now. wants to talk to you"

"i don't.. i don't want to talk to him"

dark concern furrows her brows, "i think you might need to, remus"

"i'm not- i'm okay poppy. i'm always okay"

she gives him a long look, "i thought you might be doing better" she mutters.

a slight twinge of horror strokes his ribs.

he doesn't want to talk about this.

"i'm- i'm doing- i don't know. i don't- i don't even know what i'm doing. i just can't" regret coats his words. he regrets even saying them at all.

"just- i'm sorry. you're so- yeah. i'm just sorry, remus"

he runs a scarred hand over his forehead. his glamour is gone. 

when was the last time he was here? 6th year. james had carried him in.

his throat is tight and painful and he can feel the sting behind his eyes.

"moony, mate. you need to be okay. why are you still doing this?" james pinches the top of his nose, "i don't understand! why are you still doing this! what are you trying to achieve?!"

remus is sat, shaking in the corner of their dorm's shared bathroom. 

"i don't- i don't fucking know okay! i don't know anymore!"

"i thought, if we just leave you alone, that maybe- ugh"

"no you didn't" he hisses. 

"what?"

"it's not a thought at all. you just- nobody wants to deal with someone like this. do they?"

"remus. just stop" james mutters, concern lacing his tone. 

"no! you're all fucking- i can't stand this. i can't stand this god i just can't-"

"moony. please. i just need to take you to pomfrey this time"

"get fucked, james. just go fuck yourself"

"you- you've always been there for us moony. i don't want to lose you! why can't anyone tell you when you're being illogical for a change?"

"i'm being perfectly logical james" he snaps.

"i don't even understand- what is the point? you're not... you've been sick as long as i can remember. you look like a bloody dead person. i just want to understand"

"i don't care for you to" remus says, coldly.

betrayal glints in james potter's eyes. 

"i'll tell you what i think. i don't think you know" he whispers, and raises his wand, "stupefy"

pomfrey called him strong, when he awoke. 

"you're so strong, remus. i'm not sure how your body has kept up with it all"

has it?

"i'm sure you'll feel better when all of these exams are over. you're such a perfectionist, aren't you? you really need to find other ways to cope"

he agreed with everything she said. of course he did. promised her he wouldn't land himself there for what, the 8th? 9th time? and he didn’t. not until decades later, he supposes. 

is it that this illness is sly and covert and manipulative or do people just desperately find any excuse not to deal with it? it might be- it might be a conniving, cunning little thing. but it takes advantage of a world full off wilful ignorance. 

how hard could it possibly be to take those sunglasses off? you paid for them yourself.

exhaustion thrums in his bones. he feels awful. awful. and he's not hungry. why isn't he hungry? why doesn't he at least feel the pain that usually replaces it? the fluttering of his chest and tingling in his muscles? 

well. he knows why. assholes. fucking assholes. 

—

a day after severus helps transport remus lupin into a private area of the infirmary, he sits in lupin's defence against the dark arts' class. his headache hasn't left him.

"professor, when is professor lupin returning?"

"it's not of your concern"

"forgive me, professor" hermione chimes in earnestly, "but isn't it sort of our concern?"

he stares at her. 

"lupin is dealing with a flare up of a long term affliction. i'm sure he'll return eventually" he finally says. 

harry and hermione share a glance, and he coughs pointedly, "today, considering we only just had a full moon, I'm going to teach you about werewolves" 

he isn't sure why he does it. 

maybe a subtle kind of revenge. revenge on what, he isn't sure. a message for lupin to return to, perhaps. you aren't stupid, lupin. you have bigger issues than a an illness of the mind.

a reminder.

but he's not sure why he's so angry. 

well. lupin came to hogwarts knowing he's a ticking time bomb. and dumbledore asked him to, knowing of this too. 

and now severus has had to actively restrain remus from choking on his own fingers, shove him into the care of the infirmary and take over his class. 

so scratch that. he knows full well why he's angry. 

he doesn't even like the man. yet you just can't help but wince at an explosion in front of you, even if its far into the distance. 

he tells the students to read 5 of the pages in their textbooks whilst making extremely developed (unnecessarily so) notes and takes the opportunity to reflect on his morning. 

dumbledore had spoken to him at breakfast. honestly, a somewhat soul crushing experience. 

the constant clattering of cutlery against plate feels like it's ripping holes into his thinly veiled sanity.

he almost considers just biting the bullet, literally, but figuratively in the sense that he's considering storming out of the great hall and making an unfortunate fool of himself just to get away from it all. he’s never been less concerned about his pride before.

that is to say, he’s a still a prideful bastard, but everything feels so foggy and wrong. and his judgement seems to be… slightly lacking. 

dumbledore's voice cuts through his deliberation of this. 

"ah, severus. i hear that defence against the dark arts needs a professor" 

he blinks for a moment. laughter bubbling inside of him. what a bizarrely calculated way to start asking him of yesterday's events.

god. he isn't stupid.

"oh? i had no idea" 

dumbledore hums, amused, "i think you might. i'd appreciate it if you informed me of what you remember"

"what is there to even inform you on" he hisses, "you want me to detail the smell of vomit? i'm trying to eat, for god's sake"

"don't be ridiculous" dumbledore hesitates, "you know what i'm asking. you seem upset severus. why?”

red hot irritation wriggles in his chest. and an extremely detailed image of brutally murdering absolutely every person in his vicinity flashes in his mind.

"i'm not in the mood for this today, albus" he finally says, short and curt. 

dumbledore's eyes immediately lose their twinkle.

the voice albus speaks in next is matter-of-fact, "there is a defence lesson first thing, right after breakfast" he gestures to the students in front of them, "it's not possible to have this conversation privately before then. you're observant enough to understand the meaning behind my words, i think, and you're enough of a wordsmith to be able to tailor your own" he pauses, "i understand you're exhausted, but one of my staff is currently incapacitated and despite having an idea of why i can't possibly know for sure what happened yesterday afternoon"

he fights the urge to rub both his hands across his face so violently he tears off his skin, "haven't you spoken to minerva?"

"briefly. and whilst she's intelligent, and that makes her observant, she has an unfortunate tendency to avoid talking about... delicately emotional situations.  i must digress i'm often the same. she told me that you were there throughout, including when she left to inform me of the situation. so i'd like to hear from you"

"there are definitely students close enough to hear this conversation, albus, much less our colleagues" he glances at flitwick, who seems far, far too interested in his bowl of oatmeal, "do you want that? i mean. merlin, do we even have to talk about this? are you surprised? is it so hard to connect the dots? do i even seem surprised to you?"

"hm. yes, well. severus, i'd appreciate if you covered professor lupin's classes for the next... well. i'm not quite sure how long it will be"

"are you going to pay me for that?"

dumbledore raises an eyebrow.

"thought not" he mutters, having lost his appetite, he simply sits and digs his fingernails into his hand for the remaining 20 minutes. far too cut off from the world around him to care.

—

"uh professor"

snape looks up in a daze.

"yes granger?"

"i've finished the task"

he feels the urge to make a sarcastic quip in the back of his mind, but he doesn't have the energy. 

"right" he mutters, "let me see what you've written"

he skims over it all as quickly as possible. 

a werewolf is typically a person who has been infected, or in some cases born, with-

werewolves have widely been regarded as half bred, revolting abominations for at least-

he intakes a breath quietly and continues reading. 

wolfsbane was developed recently to help the inflicted persons retain their-

although not many werewolves have been studied by way of psychological ramifications, evidence suggests-

he skims over it quickly, but pauses, and rereads. 

-evidence suggests the experience of being turned can have long term psycho symptomatic consequences, leading to maladaptive coping strategies, presenting as or mimicking other trauma, or mood, based disorders of the mind. about 40% of werewolves commit suicide. there are barriers to the psychological field being able to study these people, along with a general, severe lack of understanding of mental conditions in the magical community-

he looks up from the parchment. 

"i believe i'm almost certain this isn't in that textbook"

"i do a lot of reading"

"miss granger, i asked you to make notes on the textbook"

"you asked for detail. i'm providing detail"

he's so exhausted. he is so fucking exhausted. but he can see half of the students behind her turning their heads from their pages, listening to their conversation, so he musters up the energy.

"10 points from gryfindoor, miss granger. learn to follow instructions"

"yes professor" she mutters, eyes strangely bright. 

"go sit back down"

"could you mark the rest?"

"no. go to your seat, before you disappoint your housemates even further" he snaps. 

she calmly goes to her desk, beside potter and weasley. 

he can see them both giving him glares in the corner of his eye. fucking children.

remus numbly runs his hands over the bones in his fingers, down to his wrists. he's sat in the nearby bathroom, trying to contain himself. 

his chest feels hollow. awful, just horrible emptiness.

he considers leaning over the toilet and begging it for forgiveness again, but knows it would be futile.

why is he doing this to himself? merlin, why has he spent almost his entire lifetime like this? the wasted moments, with sirius, with james, lily and peter. his time in hogwarts. and even when simply alone. so much god forsaken wasted time. 

he hasn't had a life.

it's one thing after another, again and again. he can't just be at peace. of course he can't.

he's a liar. a terrible liar. how could he ever pretend he'd be able to do this? believe that maybe, maybe if he saw someone like him, he could save them. 

what a stupid fucking belief. 

teach a generation how to keep themselves safe? severus is right, and everyone can no doubt see the disgusting irony. 

he's wasted almost an entire lifetime. he’s had almost double what lily and james had, what peter had. the simple comprehension of this eats him alive. it's all consuming, and it leaves him completely devoid of anything else at all. it’s all so wasted.

he can't help but realise, sat here in the bathroom of this bloody infirmary in this school so rife with crushing memories, the utter truth of his hopelessness. 

maybe he's not devoid. and maybe this hasn't eaten away every part of him, because for the first time in a long time, he lets himself think about it all. all of it. he thinks about all of it. 

despair consumes him. he barely even notices what his body is doing with itself, he can think of nothing but the pain of it all. he's just crying. he feels like a child. so fucking alone. 

he's completely alone. 

i'm so sorry. i am so so sorry. i don't know what else i was supposed to do.

he hasn't even spoken properly with harry. harry, james and lily's son. harry potter, the boy on the train, clothes like remus's own. what the fuck is wrong with him? how long has he even been here? he's spent it all in his own head, so bloody consumed with himself! how is he supposed to be a functioning person like this? 

and yet, who would he be if he wasn't? 

he's hiccuping at this point, involuntarily sobs escaping his throat. it would be embarrassing, if anyone were there to see this. it's embarrassing anyway, a personal kind of embarrassment. acknowledging parts of yourself you wish were buried deep and unseen, it breeds shame and disgust.

oh he's always been ashamed of himself. so afraid of the people in his life seeing him as he is, seeing a person unrecognisable, and hating him for it. 

and then, all of a sudden, the people around him are violently ripped away. 

he never appreciated it. 

thinking only about himself, all his flaws, often theirs, too. so unable to see the good in the world, even now. merlin how cliché. 

you don't know how good you've got it until it's gone, right? until everyone you care about is dead, or as good as. that seems like a sick kind of lesson, universe, but point taken.

"remus?"

shit. shit shit shit.

he swallows, voice still coming out hoarse despite that, "i'm alright!" he calls out.

"remus i'm going to need you to come out, i'm sorry, you've been in there a while" poppy says anxiously from behind the locked door.

"just give me 5"

"i can't do that, i need you to come out now"

he rubs his hand against his neck and sharply applies pressure, trying to rid himself of the sharp pains of despair buried underneath his skin, causing his sobs and hiccups.

“yep i’m coming out” he croaks.

he flushes the toilet and splashes his face quickly with cold water from the sink, drying it with shaking hands and some toilet paper. 

the door unlocks. 

“remus?“

“yep. just freshening up”

“i’m going to have to check you over”

he closes his eyes in exasperation.

“whatever for?” he asks, feigning ignorance, and she gives him a look.

“you’re hoarse” she says, bluntly. “you’re hoarse, your face is red, and i just found you drying off your face”

“right. sure, go ahead. i haven’t done anything at all, i mean, merlins socks’ pomfrey can i not just have a bloody moment of peace?”

“must i remind you of all the times we’ve been in this position before? i’m going to check for wounds too, come on”

“i am not a child. no, i’m not engaging with this. i’m quite fine”

“come on remus” she says softly, gesturing out of the bathroom.

“don’t use that tone with me,” he hisses, “i’m not having this pity, i’m not doing this again, i am an adult and i am your colleague”

she seems to hesitate, and he takes the opportunity to brush past her. he exits his room, and begins making his way towards the infirmary doors. briskly walking by confused students in their beds, he doesn’t glance at any of them- doesn’t want to recognise them, and he knows that he would.

he doesn’t really want to see their looks of horror, at their professor no longer in his big flow-y robes, wearing only a t shirt and joggers. the embarrassment, the disgust and shame, wells back up in the pit of his stomach like a cloud of smog. 

they’re going to be revolted by you. they’re going to be so confused, remus. why would he be here, with us, when he looks so healthy?

no. no, you look sick. you look sick and that’s worse. who do you think you are? 

word gets around, and it gets around fast. you’ll never be able to show your face again. you’ll never be able to eat in the great hall again, in front of all those knowing gazes. look at remus lupin, hardly touching his food. look at remus lupin, scoffing his food down like a fucking animal. like a wolf. a spectacle. you should be locked up. you’re just like him, you know that? you’re-

“remus!” poppy calls from behind him. he turns abruptly. the students have no reservations about staring at him. he can feel their eyes. 

“poppy, i feel much better i assure you,” he almost chokes on the lies, “i appreciate all that you’ve done”

her gaze is hard.

“yes, i would just like to quickly run a test, i’m not convinced your- your cold is as typical as it appears. i’m sure you can return to teaching tomorrow. i’ll give you some potions, too”

“i’ll come back if i feel worse, but truly, i think it was a brief spurt of illness”

“remus” she says lowly, with a warning tone, “i’d much rather discuss this in privacy”

“i’d much rather not discuss it at all” he snaps back.

a figure enters the infirmary, dressed in grey.