Chapter Four
Lupin avoided Snape from that evening on, at least, that’s what Snape believed he was doing. He was never in the staffroom when Snape was there, he was barely present at the feasts and only appeared very briefly at the beginning if he was there at all. Snape caught Potter and his Weasley friend glancing suspiciously in his direction on more than one occasion, as though scrutinising his every move to prove that he had done something to Lupin. Snape paid them no more attention than his usual scowl.
After a week had passed without ever crossing paths with him, Snape began to feel agitated. When three weeks has passed, he was noticeably distressed. Even Professor McGonagall pulled him aside one day in the staffroom and asked him if everything was alright.
In the evenings after the feast, he would spend his time pacing up and down his small room, battling with himself over what he should do. Should he seek him out and demand an explanation from him? That didn’t seem like a wise option considering Lupin’s previous reaction. Should he simply leave him alone and pretend that nothing happened? That was a silly idea, Snape knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore this issue.
After weighing up several more options and finding himself at a crossroads of all varying degrees of useless ideas, he growled at himself and shoved the door to his room open, quickly deciding that he needed some air and that he would walk off his frustration on the school grounds.
Everything happened so quickly. Snape had seen Lupin cross the grounds in a hurry and head straight towards the Whomping Willow, disappearing inside. He had followed him down and heard the entire exchange between Lupin, Black and Potter as Lupin explained the situation. He listened quietly under the invisibility cloak as Lupin described his childhood, his terrible transformations, the prank that nearly killed Snape. He listened while Black accused Snape of always trying to get them expelled.
When Snape revealed himself to the group his presence was less than welcome. He snarled at Black, shouted words he didn’t mean to the students, bound Lupin up to keep him out of it. If I’m to be a villain, then let me be the villain you think I am. He was shocked and surprised when he was flung back against the wall of the shack. He felt his head connect with something hard and then darkness.
When Snape came to there was no one in the room. His head was throbbing and he lifted his hand to where it hurt. He felt dried blood crusting his hair and damp where it was still lightly bleeding.
“I’m going to murder those brats.” He mumbled.
He leaned his weight on the wall as he lifted himself up and looked around for his wand. It was nowhere to be seen. Black must have taken it. He groaned. The thought of his precious wand in the hands of that filthy, murderous –
A scream that sounded a lot like Granger’s cut Snape from his thoughts and he ran out of the shrieking shack, ignoring the pain in his still-throbbing head. When he emerged from the willow he headed straight towards where Weasley was lying down and Granger stood over him protectively.
“What is it, what’s going on? Where’s Potter?” He asked them.
Granger wasn’t looking at him. Snape saw the look of horror pass over her face when he heard the growling coming from behind him. He stilled and slowly turned around.
There, bearing down on him, was a great grey wolf, it’s mouth curled in a snarl and its teeth flashed in the moonlight.
The moonlight. He suddenly remembered the haste with which Lupin had made his way to the Whomping Willow. It was early evening at that point, the time he usually came to pick up his Wolfsbane. Snape stared at the wolf.
“Oh Remus, what have you done?”
The wolf lunged. Snape stood facing it, gathering Weasley and Granger behind him in an attempt to shield them. It landed with a thump in front of Snape and clawed at his arms and legs, teeth snapping while it toyed with its prey.
Suddenly the wolf hurtled off of him as a black dog the size of a bear pummelled itself into it. Snape wasn’t sure what happened after that. He saw the blood on his arms, he heard Granger screaming, he thought he saw the headmaster coming towards them but at that moment the gradual light headed feeling that was developing enveloped him.
Snape blinked. The light felt harsh against his eyeballs and he squeezed them shut again, blinking several times to get used to it. He tried to sit up but his arms were aching and his head throbbed as he wriggled to an upright position. He looked around. He was in the hospital wing. It was early morning. No one else took up the other beds.
As he glanced around the room again he eyes flitted down to his hand, which he was only now keenly aware was being held. Remus sat in a visitors chair with his head resting on the side of the bed, facing Snape. His left hand was gently resting on top of Snape’s right. His back rose slowly in time with his breaths and Snape realised that he was fast asleep. He was about to pull his hand back when a door clicked open and he froze. Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and smiled at Snape when she saw he was awake.
“Welcome back, Severus. How are you feeling?”
“Well enough.” He grunted.
“I’m glad.”
Madam Pomfrey walked over to his bedside and replaced the water jug, pouring fresh water in a glass for him and tipping in a clear substance into the water.
“Torpet Dolor I assume?” asked Snape.
“Just a little,” said Madam Pomfrey, “enough not to feel the pain so you can rest better.”
Snape drank the water and almost immediately felt the pain in his arms and head ebb away. Madam Pomfrey nodded towards Lupin as Snape placed the glass back on the side of the table.
“He hasn’t left your side you know.” She said, “Even on the night everything happened. He came back looking like death himself, dragged himself to your bed and refused to be treated until he made absolutely certain that he didn’t bite you. He was so frantic, poor lad.”
She gently lay an affectionate hand on Lupin’s shoulder. “I know you two have never got on, Severus, but please don’t think any less of him. He’s been through so much already.”
She glanced briefly to Lupin’s arm, his rolled up sleeve showing the more faded of his scars on the back of his arm. She turned to leave, tray in hand. Snape momentarily fought with himself not to ask but his curiosity got the better of him.
“What happened to him?” He asked.
She glanced back and gave a small smile of pity as she looked over Lupin once more, endearment etched into the crinkles around her eyes.
“It’s really not my place to say. He’ll tell you when the time comes.”
She walked back into her office and quietly shut the door behind her, leaving Snape to ponder on the same things he had when he had made the trek to the Whomping Willow. He knew it wasn’t his business but glancing down at Lupin now, his face glowing in the early morning sun, he looked serene and calm as he always did only now he had fresh cuts and bruises blooming and his fatigue of the last few months clearly showed. He looks worn, Snape realised, like his tatty old coat he always wears.
He sat there wondering to himself what Lupin had been through all those years after they left school. He thought back to what he’d overheard in the shrieking shack.
Lupin had been unable to find employment because of his nature, he saw the aftermath of his best friend’s death and believed for twelve years that not only did his other best friend cause it, but also that he had brutally murdered his other friend as well as innocent people. He had believed for twelve years that he was the only survivor loyal to Dumbledore of the Marauders. Snape also knew that in those years, Lupin couldn’t possibly have procured enough money to buy himself the wolfsbane potion or had the skill to brew it himself. He had undergone a painful transformation every month for twelve years and Snape knew that Lupin hated himself for it. He had seen the bitter look of self-hatred and guilt in Lupin’s eyes when he first came to him for the potion. He had recognised himself in that look.
Snape looked again at Lupin’s tired face. He noticed that his hair was a lighter brown than he thought and it glinted gold in the sunlight. His skin was deathly pale, making the injuries stand out more prominently. He looked down at his hand, still resting in top of his, and gently turned his arm over. Lupin’s forearm was covered in scars, the lines crisscrossing each other when there was no more unmarred skin to use. Snape gently stroked his thumb back and forth over Lupin’s wrist. He noticed that the slight crease that had been between Lupin’s eyebrows eased and he looked completely at peace.
Snape slid back down under the covers of the bed, hand never leaving Lupin’s. He brought his head closer until their foreheads nearly touched.
“Silly man” he muttered, “you should have come to me.”
But Snape already knew why he hadn’t as he drifted off back to sleep.