A/N: Apologies for the delay here - I thought I'd submitted this chapter a week ago but when I checked today it had vanished from the queue. *sigh* I would also like to thank each and every person who has reviewed so far. It has been pointed out to me that I have been a little curmugeonly in terms of responses (mostly because I didn't have the patience to keep arguing with the continual log outs in order to do so!) but that does not mean that I have not appreciated each and every one of you. Thank you all! :)
39: Acceptance
It had been a long day.
Remus sighed as he dropped wearily into his chair, depositing his class textbook and lesson plan with a thump onto his desk. That book had never seemed so heavy until now.
He had forgotten just how tiring teaching could be whilst feeling rather under the weather. That he had managed to get through the last two days without a repeat performance of the Wednesday before full moon was something for which he was eternally grateful. One swooning fit, as Snape had so delicately put it, was bad enough, but two he was certain would never be lived down.
A disgruntled grindylow head-butted the side of its tank with a rattle - absently Remus grabbed a handful of the feed his father had sent and sprinkled it over the top of the water, his eyes roaming around the shelves and corners of his office. It felt strange to be back here, in what was for him the most ordinary of surroundings, so far removed from his life of the last month, quiet and undisturbed. When he had first ventured back into this room two days before, he had discovered it to be eerily as he had left it – blanket flung on the floor, Marauder’s Map staked out and active beside the now dark fireplace, scrape marks still etched down the sides of his doorframe marking the moment when his ill-timed transformation had taken hold. A little tidying and the assistance of a couple of obliging house-elves had quickly put pay to the reminders but the feelings caused by memories were not so easily erased.
It could be done. But he’d had quite enough of memory charms for one lifetime.
In the distance, though the open door, he could hear faraway chatter and the clatter of footsteps that marked the progress of the students of Hogwarts as they made their way down for their Friday dinner. It formed quite a contrast to the sounds – and smells – of two weeks before. Just a fortnight, that was all, yet now the night was utterly changed, the new moon dark and hiding in the sky with barely a sliver to display. How could time that passed so fast feel so much like an eternity?
He had already paid dearly for his night out with Tonks. Wednesday had been an utter washout as far as resuming teaching was concerned – Poppy had taken one look at his pale features as he stumbled awkwardly to breakfast and publicly ordered him back to his chambers to rest for the day. However, nothing short of a full-scale apocalypse or possibly the wrath of Poppy Pomfrey if he’d proved brave enough to tell her would have prevented Remus from teaching again on Thursday. He had started out lightly, taking only his NEWT and OWL classes and, finding himself more able to cope than he had expected, he had stepped back into his full duties today. By his own rationale, if the classes did indeed exhaust him, at least he would have the weekend to recover.
And they had exhausted him. But not as much as he had feared.
Perhaps now things could get back to normal.
Back to normal. Was there such a thing in Hogwarts? But if there was, it was a state of existence that Remus had been unable to dare hope for when he had stepped back into his teaching role the day before. Even given the evidence of the petition and Tonks’ reassuring words, Remus had found it difficult to accept that things would not be different. A good half of the school had seen him as a werewolf. Many of those had watched him fight like a werewolf. And even for those who had not, he could not imagine there was a single student in the castle who had not read Rita Skeeter’s article. And if they had read the article – he shuddered in spite of himself – they had also seen that photograph.
How could things not change after that?
How could they ever see him the same way again?
They couldn’t. Of course they couldn’t. Without mass memory charms, that would be impossible. They would treat him differently now.
He was right. But not at all in the way he expected.
The look was there. In the eyes of all who had seen him, he could see it clearly – the same cocktail of wariness, pity, fear and apprehension that he knew far too well. His early Thursday classes had been unusually quiet.
But once the lessons had begun, he had been astonished to find that most of the pupils melted back into their familiar behaviours. There were sneers, of course, and mutters behind his back; that much he had come to expect. The snide comments and wary looks were undeniably slightly more obvious in many cases but the wide-ranging outbreak of fear and dislike he had been secretly expecting had utterly failed to materialise. Many watched him with caution, some with mistrust and a few with outright fear. But yet somehow, it didn’t seem to matter, for so many more seemed simply glad he was there.
There was nothing overt about their reaction to his return. Beyond the petition, there was no grand gesture, no rounds of applause at breakfast or open demonstrations of support amongst the children. There was instead a quiet acceptance of his presence, translated into smiles in the corridors, respectful nods and friendly, good-natured banter in the classroom. Oh, the look was there, but somehow it seemed to make very little difference.
The students did treat him differently. Now they understood.
And knowing the whole bleak reality, they accepted him.
And that was more than good enough for Remus.
But the acceptance was not universal. Severus Snape was undeniably avoiding him.
At first, Remus had assumed it to be no more than a coincidence. He had never had a great deal to do with Snape in the first place, little more than nods in the corridors and occasional exchanges of carefully phrased barbs. But now, even the nods and the jousts of words had evaporated. When he passed the Potions Master now he was blanked, ignored, or, if by some stroke of ill fortune he was unavoidable, Snape regarded him shortly and silently in the manner of something especially unpleasant recently scraped from a shoe. When he had tried to speak to his colleague during a staff meeting the evening before to thank him for his part in covering his lessons, the Slytherin had turned without a word and deliberately walked away. By the time he had also realised that Snape was positioning himself carefully at the opposite end of the staff table to Remus during every meal, it had come as no surprise. Beyond the single nod and brief, clipped statement of his name he had been deigned with on the morning that Snape had dispersed his father’s supporters outside the Hospital Wing window, Severus had not once so much as acknowledged his existence with more than a brief scowl of disdain.
He recognised the pattern well.
He had endured it for several months following the ill-chosen prank of Sirius that had resulted in his almost killing Severus Snape.
And so had James Potter.
Remus shook his head. Poor Severus. To have his life saved by the werewolf who once tried to eat him. It would be a struggle for the Slytherin to produce enough bile to fully cover such an awful eventuality. No wonder he had taken to blanking the object of his ire. He would surely have choked to death otherwise on the fruits of his labour.
Remus forced down further uncharitable thoughts. That wasn’t fair, not really. Such a situation would truly be quite difficult for Snape to come to terms with. But his solution – to utterly ignore the cause of his difficulty – was flawed in the extreme and deeply unsatisfying for both sides. Such a stalemate could not continue indefinitely; at some point in the future, some manner of resolution would need to be thrashed out, some settler that allowed for the equally unfriendly but rather more endurable status quo to return. The events of the full moon needed to be accepted so that both men could move on. Otherwise they would be trapped in this emotional limbo forever.
Closure was needed. And not just with Snape.
It was staring at him again. That blasted envelope.
Why he had allowed it to remain sitting on his desk in such a blatant, distracting manner escaped him. He recalled fuzzy late-night reasoning about not hiding from his difficult decisions and forcing himself to face the issue rather than simply allowing it to slide until a resolution was too late. It all seemed perfectly logical and sensible but it did not change the fact that he had done nothing about it but endure the envelope’s bayful stare for two days. And he did not have much longer before time would run out.
Neat Ministry writing, his name, his location, gleamed in the glimmering candlelight, concealing the dilemma in words that lay beneath.
The Kiss of Abraham Kane had been scheduled for 3pm, a week that Sunday, six days before the next full moon. He had been invited to attend.
In a letter carefully written by Kingsley, his presence had also been requested in the holding cells at his convenience any time before the day of execution itself for an audience with the condemned. All that was required was one day’s notice of his intention to visit. They awaited his response.
They’d been waiting a week. And Remus was no closer to ending their suspense.
He was at a genuine loss to decide the best course of action. On the one hand, quite reasonably, he would be perfectly happy never to see Abraham Kane again. The arguments of his father and friends regarding a possible trap, ulterior motives and the dangers of subjecting himself to whatever reputation-smearing remarks the feral might care to throw about had all been acknowledged and taken in. To stay away was easily the safest and most sensible course of action.
But it felt wrong.
This needed to end. There was an excellent case to state that no one had impacted more upon his life than his erstwhile cousin and for such an important if unpleasant relationship in his life to simply fade away in such an unsatisfying, inconclusive manner tore at his consciousness like a knife. And there was more. Their last meeting, the confrontation in the entrance hall, had been on Kane’s terms, a werewolf’s fight, his rules, his dictation. And that was not the way that Remus wanted their tortuous shared history to conclude.
He did not want Kane to dominate his life unseen forever more. He wanted to end it on his terms. On human terms.
But was it really worth the risks involved?
Would he even gain closure at all?
And would closure even be possible? Even real?
“Lupin.”
Remus jumped violently at the unexpected voice, his eyes snapping up to find the shadow-robed figure looming in his open doorway, eyes dark and skin pasty sallow. But Severus Snape was not regarding him with the repulsed disdain he had come to expect over recent days. Instead there was a kind of determined resignation locked into his features as he scowled at the man seated before him with a far more familiar glare of infinite dislike.
Supporting himself cautiously against the arms of his chair, Remus pushed himself to his feet and met the sneering gaze with quiet politeness.
“Severus,” he said softly. “What can I do for you?”
Snape’s eyes flickered darkly at his colleague’s choice of words.
“I don’t owe you anything, you know,” he exclaimed abruptly, his voice low and vaguely accusatory. “If you are expecting me to grovel at the feet of my…rescuer,” he spat the word out as though it had turned sour. “You will be waiting a very long time. I owed nothing towards James Potter and I owe nothing towards you. Both of your actions were tainted by nothing more than self interest.”
Remus kept very still as he leaned forward against his desk, painfully aware of the knife-edge on which this conversation was precariously balancing. This was not the time to say the wrong thing.
“I did not expect anything from you,” he replied softly. “I would not presume to.”
“Good,” Snape barked the word with enough sharpness to bleed the air. “You tried to kill me once, Lupin and whether you were complicit or not in Black’s actions, it does not alter the fact that you nearly succeeded. That nullifies any kind of Wizard’s Debt that may have otherwise been imposed. If this…incident has any effect, it is only to make us even.”
“I understand that.”
“So if you were expecting any kind of…gratitude…”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good. Because I do not intend to give it.”
“Of course not.”
Snape was regarding him with intensive suspicion. Clearly he had been expecting some manner of protest.
“Are you mocking me, Lupin?” he scowled suddenly. “Because if you are planning something…”
Remus felt it important to cut quickly across this line of thought. “I’m not,” he interrupted quickly, enduring the cold stare that engulfed him for his impudence. “I really mean it, Severus. I just want to put this whole business behind me.”
Snape arched an eyebrow. “So this is for your benefit. I am supposed to do more favours for you, to aid in your peace of mind.”
Remus barely succeeded in suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. There was no one in the world as gifted as Severus Snape at twisting people’s words.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, carefully stifling the hint of frustration that threatened to creep into his words. “I didn’t save your life with the intention of using it against you. I saved you because it seemed like the right thing to do.”
Snape sneered. “The noble werewolf. Perhaps you have missed your vocation. I understand in the mountains of Europe, they employ dogs such as you to dig stranded Muggles from the snow.”
Remus hardened his jaw with grim determination. He was not going to rise. If an argument ensued, this ridiculous cold war between them would never be resolved.
“Would you rather I had left you to die?” he asked softly. “Or would have preferred to be bitten and brew Wolfsbane for yourself once a month?”
There was an awkward silence.
Beneath his sallow features, Snape was glowering intensely. “Do you try to trick gratitude from me now?”
Remus drew a sharp breath. “I’m not trying to trick you into doing anything. I’m not my friends, Severus. One of these days you’ll realise that.”
The Slytherin glared down the length of his nose. “I don’t trust you.”
“I can’t help that. I don’t want anything from you. Believe me and let this all be behind us, or cling on to your ire and keep dragging it on forever.” He stared at his former schoolmate with unrelenting eyes. “It’s up to you.”
There was a long silence. Snape’s dark eyes pierced the stillness of the air as they bored into his colleague’s skin.
“You will not raise this matter again.” The statement was abrupt, and filled with determined authority. “And will not hold it against me at any point in the future.”
Remus nodded. “You have my word.”
Snape sneered. “The word of a werewolf…”
“That is the only word I have to give.”
The Potions Master considered this for a moment. “Very well,” he conceded finally. “I will accept that if I must.” He hesitated slightly. “I am glad to find you so reasonable, Lupin.”
Remus smiled carefully. “It is easy to be reasonable about the right thing. Thank you for coming, Severus. I did not want to impose myself on you but it is important in such matters to clear the air.”
The look on Snape’s face implied that he would have preferred to sacrifice clear air for the opportunity to fill it with poisonous gas and lock the door with Remus inside. But the stiff, uncertain quality that had existed over the last fortnight was absent. The uneasy truce that passed for their association had been re-established.
“If you say so, Lupin,” he drawled with curl of the lip. “Now if you will excuse me, I have far more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Of course.” With a gracious nod, Remus lowered himself back into his chair. For a moment longer, Snape lingered, his dark eyes flashing from within the depths of his pale features. But then with a swish of his robes, the Head of Slytherin turned and swept away down the corridor.
For a moment, Remus stared at the wide, empty doorway, listening to the retreat of footsteps vanishing into the distance. Then he sighed.
Well, that was interesting.
Snape had been rude. He had been brusque. He had been openly hostile. He had shown no kind of respect for Remus, or even a remote appreciation for the fact he had saved his life. And yet…
And yet Remus felt so much better.
There would always be tension between them of course. That was inevitable. But the added tension, the uncertainty that had unbalanced what was, after all, years of finely tuned and carefully managed dislike on both sides; that had melted away. The issue had been addressed. Both sides had stated their positions and established their ground once more in the face of new developments. Oh, they would never be friends by any stretch – that was asking the impossible – but at least now both participants in their mutual dislike of each other knew inside that they were back on equal terms.
No debts were pending. Nothing was owed.
There was closure on this awkward chapter, on two awkward chapters if Snape had truly meant his remark about their being even. And now life could go on as before.
Remus felt his gaze shift onto the Ministry letter perched on his desk.
Closure.
However awkward, unpleasant or recriminatory it was, it would be over.
Was it worth the risk?
Yes.
Reaching for his quill and a piece of parchment, Remus settled himself down determinedly and pulled out his letter from the Ministry. He needed to do this before he changed his mind.
He dipped his quill in the inkpot and started to write.
Dear Mr Shacklebolt,
I would like to accept the invitation to speak with Abraham Kane prior to his condemnation by Dementor’s Kiss. If it is convenient, I would like to attend this Sunday at…