Wreaths of Laurel and Overture
Severus sighed as he put away yet another essay from one of his fourth-year students. They were slightly more tolerable seeing as they were more knowledgeable of the subject; students were putting more of an effort knowing that their fifth year was approaching, others purposefully flunked their assignments in hopes of not having potions in their later years. Something he hated yet admired for their foolishness.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back into his chair. If he finished soon, then perhaps he’d be able to get some actual sleep. It was only January, a week back since break, and he was already looking forward to the next break.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. With a simple charm, he saw the glowing outline of a certain Defense Professor standing just outside his classroom door. He pinched the bridge of his nose again, this time much harder as if he concentrated hard enough the person might disappear. But they did not and continued to knock.
“Severus?” The voice said from behind the door.
Perhaps, if he ignored him, he’d go away.
“Severus, I know you’re in there. I can scent you.”
He groaned. Damn werewolves and their heightened sense of smell.
With another swish of his hand, the door unlocked and became ajar. Remus’ scarred face peered inside, looking for the potions master first before stepping inside. Once he caught sight of him, he smiled thinly, a somewhat polite smile if one didn’t look too into it.
At the lack of words from the wolf, Severus looked up from the essay he was grading and carefully eyed the other man. “Can I help you?”
“Ah, right.” Remus shook his head so as to clear it so he could properly address his colleague. There was a reason why he was looking for him after all. “During my third-year boggart’s lesson, it was brought to my attention that one of my student’s worst fear was — how can I put it simply? — you.”
Severus scoffed, unbelieving that anyone’s boggart would be himself — actually scratch that, he found it hilarious that a student would think him fearful enough. Remus, on the other hand, did not take it lightly.
“I’m concerned about the way you conduct yourself around the students. If one of my own students fears you, then that tells me —”
“It tells you nothing,” Severus retorted. “If I’m someone’s boggart then perhaps my method of teaching and being can be intimidating to students. I am a teacher, not a friend to these children. Remind me again, what is a boggart, Lupin?”
The corner of Remus’ lip tugged upwards, he almost found it amusing how it seemed that he was the one being taught his own subject. He then remembered Miss Granger’s answer in his class. “A shapeshifter. One that takes the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”
“‘Whatever it thinks will frighten us most’ indeed,” he repeated. “Who would you have thought to be this student’s most feared?”
Remus’ ears reddened in embarrassment. He probably had read too much into Neville’s fear, he could have done it to any of his other students. Harry, Hermione, anyone.
“Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Severus scoffed, “Perhaps you did find it telling, but you can rest assured that I am not throwing the child into a pit of snakes every time he does a mistake in my class.”
Then, as Severus recalled the wolf’s prior words, his lip curled into a sneer. “And do not question how I conduct my own classes, Lupin. The boy has never had to deal with Bellatrix personally, of course, his boggart wouldn’t be her,” he explained, placing his linked hands on his desk. “I, on the other hand, am the ‘scary strict teacher’ every underclassman fears. Tell me, Lupin, who would you fear most? A nightmare you experience nearly every day or a story of a nightmare you can’t even remember?”
The lanky professor said nothing, mulling the thought over.
“Do pray tell I never criticize you and how you handle your own classes.”
“Perhaps you should go a bit easier on your students.” Remus’ shoulders slumped just an inch. “They’re children, Severus. They’re allowed to make mistakes —”
“Mistakes are what get people hurt, killed even.” There was something in those piercing black eyes of his. Remus was able to pick up an irregular heartbeat from the potion’s teacher… something like pain — regret even. But Severus didn’t show it — his face remained stoic. It was emotion so well controlled that it frightened Remus. “I must keep students from making such mistakes. Not everyone can, of course, be highly skilled in the art of potion-making.”
Now that was a direct jab at him, Remus thought to himself. He couldn’t even utter another word before Severus spoke again. The man looked away before glancing over him once more, the trailing eyes cold and calculating.
“It seems you are standing up for others a little too late there, Lupin.”
Remus couldn’t help but feel something roil deep inside. “From where I stand, I’m not the only coward that stands in this classroom.”
Severus’ piercing black eyes glowered at the werewolf. He had been eager to end the conversation, but now? So much more than before.
“Coward?”
Remus’ shoulders shrunk a bit. He had never seen his colleague this enraged. A new fire burned behind his coal eyes, one he had no idea he was able to ignite. It was like the false belief of throwing a matchstick into a puddle. Except that his mistake had been to throw the matchstick into a puddle of gasoline.
The chair scraped against the dungeon’s floor as Severus pushed himself up. It fell with a heavy clatter and Remus had to make sure he didn’t flinch too hard. Severus didn’t step any closer, he remained behind his desk, but he was very close to taking a few steps around it to strangle the wolf. Instead, he clenched the wooden surface in front of him.
“I am the coward, Lupin?” the man spat. “You have no right in telling me so when this —“ he pulled down his collar to show the raw pink stretches of skin that ran past his neck and winded down further to his chest. Remus immediately clenched his mouth shut. “— this was because your friend thought it would be hilarious to shut me up and send me to my doom. I am no coward when I stand in front of my own assailant.”
Remus watched as the man before him shakily fixed his shirt. His hands never stopped shaking even as he let them fall to his side. The werewolf noticed how he kept them close to his pocket and didn’t fail to notice the wand sticking out from it.
“You never apologized… as if I would have accepted it either way,” he scoffed. “Not once did I ever hear an apology from you — especially from that lunatic.”
“Believe me when I say that I wanted to apologize, Severus. I was disgusted by what Sirius had done. I nearly — to have taken advantage of my werewolf state…” His amber eyes steeled as he caught sight of coal. “I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy.”
When no one said anything, Remus took the opportunity to finally say the words he had been saving for over a decade. “I’m sorry, Severus. For everything I did and didn’t do — I really am, truly, sorry.”
The tattered professor raised a firm hand, a gesture of sincerity and truce, but that only caused Severus to draw his wand and point it squarely at his chest. Remus retracted his hands to his chest, palms out to show that he would not draw his own.
It did nothing.
“Get out of my classroom, Lupin,” Severus hissed.
But the werewolf did not budge, he seemed to have something else to say. Perhaps the use of ‘coward’ finally propelled him to do something brave for once, but it was a poor sense of judgment, for now, was not the time to be brave.
Remus opened his mouth but no words came out. Severus didn’t even try to hide the sneer directed at the werewolf.
“Out!”
And so he did.
It took Severus a few minutes to steady his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking it angrily as he replayed the scene that took place only moments ago.
He cursed at himself when he couldn’t stop shaking — even as he took his seat behind his desk once again. With his head buried in his hands, he sat there not knowing how to go about this new revelation.
Severus glanced back at his desk once he managed to calm himself, and sighed realizing that he still had essays to grade. He pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing his forehead tentatively, a string of curse words expelling underneath his breath.
He wasn’t going to make it past this term if that damned wolf had anything to do with it.