HEADCANON: OCCUPATION (Researcher At St. Mungos)

Severus blinked with a ‘who, me?’ look on their face. ‘ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, ’ said the cat that ate the canary. ‘ You must be exhausted. Being dead for 5 years will do that to you. ’ They were both products of Slytherin House, where privacy was only as respected as the protections around it. If Black wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, well, with due diligence he certainly could.

Severus conjured a desk chair (wheels, armrests, and all) that they dragged closer to the young man before they sat down, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned back. The air shifted palpably in the room, Severus was no longer interrogating a potential threat, they were catching up with an old acquaintance. A corner of their lips lifted at being called contrary, only a little too pleased with themself. ‘ Just twelve, ’ they said, ‘ for now. ’ If Severus dared to dream of what they would do after the war, it was this: make new spells. And potions, and wards, and artifacts. One day they might outweigh the violent magic they’ve written into the world.

If Severus was taken aback by Black’s following confession — and a confession is what it was, quiet and honest, however else Black chose to frame it later — they didn’t show it. Black had stumbled through epiphanies of his own since Severus had last seen him, not unlike the ones Severus had worked through themself to get here. ‘ What a surprise, ’ said Severus, ‘ look who had a change of heart, now. It’s only been 5 years, Black, what happened to you? ’

Severus listened intently as Black spoke. They watched him without blinking as the words sank in. They remained carefully impassive, face empty of all emotion.

I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve.

For one ferocious moment Severus wanted to pin Black down and empty his mind of all knowledge and memory, comb through his thoughts with tedious care, and pluck it’s secrets out one by one until they found what they were looking for. The moment passed. Reckless, Severus thought. Unlike most of the people they dealt with, Black knew of their Legilimency. A delicate hand was needed.

Severus hummed. ‘ Better late than never, I suppose. Only a few hundred died since your great discovery, but I’m sure you’ll carry their deaths with dignity, and such, and all. ’ They waved a hand to encompass the such and the all. Guilt over strangers did not factor into this at all, Severus suspected. Something happened to someone who mattered to Black, or Black thought it did, or would. That was what sprang the young man from the grave, or else his secrets would’ve died with him. But that was a question for another day. ‘ What did you find? ’

wrongdeor​:

Severus held the other’s gaze as he spoke his name, looking for snippets of memory, a passing thought that would reveal them to be a pretender. There was no distance between the mind he looked into and the name Regulus Black. This was, at worst, someone who fully believed they were the dead Heir of the House of Black. At best —

Doubt, despite itself, dissipated rapidly once Regulus opened his big bloody mouth, and the most ridiculous taunts left his lips. Hm, yes. There he was, the impossible brat. Severus almost grinned, suddenly, but schooled his features back down to impassivity. His shoulders relaxed just a little. 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘ I got sick of being told what to do, ’ Severus said, ‘ and treachery sounded grand. A better question would be why not, really. ’ He waved a hand flippantly. ‘ It goes better with my nature, yes? Halfbloods and their shaky convictions, and all. I suppose your darling Bella was right about me all along. ’

He walked up to the littlest Black, arms crossed, a slight cant to his head. He intended to look menacing, but his guard was down, and his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory: ‘ You, on the other hand, heir to name and to fortune — how does this go with yours? ’ What are you doing here, Regulus?

*

“Oi,” Regulus asked, leaning forward on that couch he’d rather burn than sit on again, “are you in my head?” He looked at the other, scanning their shoulders, their mouth, their general now-lost tension. “You are, aren’t you? You seem very pleased with yourself there, Severus,” Regulus added with a scowl that was patently false in sincerity and transparent to the thing he might label joy beneath it. “Figures you’d go poking.”

Regulus’ head fell back onto the couch, eyes sliding shut against his will yet following it at the same time. The duality of conscious and unconscious desires playing out in that one simple movement. He’d been worried, before, but whatever Severus was here to do, he’d do it without alerting the entire damn estate to it. That was safety enough for Regulus to close his eyes. Not despite Severus, but because of Severus.

“You always were a contrary little bugger,” Regulus agreed. “It was never enough to make one spell, no you had to make, what? Eleven, twelve of the things?” Regulus sighed, rocking his head back and forth on the couch in the best approximation he could of a shake. “Bella did turn out to not be right about much,” Regulus said quietly, “and I don’t think she was right about that.” That was entirely too much honesty for this conversation. Regulus was going to blame the sleep-deprivation if it was brought up.

“Treachery is quite the lark though, I must admit that. Always something done in a flurry of springtime fancy like a Hufflepuff after a pastry. Knees knocking together with the sugar high and excitement of it all.” Regulus shook his head again, choosing honesty, blunt and brittle a tool though it was. “I went researching. Volunteered a friend for something I never should have. Nearly lost him and found more than I should have in those books.”

Cracking open one eye through its leaden weight, Regulus looked at Severus. “I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve. I nearly died for it and didn’t bother sharing it until now.” That eye closed again. “Don’t go blabbing that around, not even to Evans. Especially not to Evans. Strictly need-to-know, that. Might interfere with my future ambitions if it gets out and then I’d really have to hex you with something you didn’t make up.”

elliotofvanity​:

Elliot should have come up with some excuse to, well, to excuse himself; should have retreated and sought Hestia or Wila or someone else who could give him more information; someone who could clarify that Severus Snape really was supposed to be here, with the Order, and why; someone else who had been here longer and could answer impossible questions like what the fucking fuck was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s favorite fuck doing with the Order of the Phoenix? without making things too terribly awkward.

He should have mustered-up some polite nonsense phrase and left.

Instead, when the other wix demanded an explanation, Elliot blurted, “But you’re the Malfoys’ bed-toy,” too shocked to be anything but honest. “You are! Severus Snape. I’ve seen you at a dozen parties.“ He had seen Severus at school, too, but hadn’t paid the quiet, surly, solitary wix nearly as much attention as he had when seeing them waltzed around a ballroom on Lucius Malfoy’s elegant arm, or ensconced in a corner seat with Narcissa giggling gracefully in their ear, or being swept upstairs at the end of the evening by one or both of the fashionable blondes. At school, Severus had been—in their own way—something of a wallflower, too. In the Malfoys’ hands, they had been impossible not to notice.

To see them now…here…none of it made sense. “What are you doing here?”

The boy could’ve said ‘the Dark Lord sent me to kill you’ and it would’ve shocked Severus less. 

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Bed-toy. He covered his face with his hand to hide his laughter but it was too late. ‘ Well aren’t you bold, ’ said Severus, the corners of his lips stretched in a mischievous smirk. Severus was attentive towards the rumors that sprang in his wake, specifically the ones that followed his appearances with Lucius or Narcissa (or both) and it was not entirely for pragmatic reasons that he did so. After all, the tales that followed him at every society event wouldn’t be half as tall without his own delighted efforts. And the Malfoys’ bed-toy was not only the least offensive but also the least inaccurate. 

People just didn’t usually say it to his face.

He stepped towards the boy, eyes gleaming with interest. ‘ Elliot Vanity, ’ said Severus, stopping right before him, sinking into his mind like a wide net onto dense water. Thoughts jumped to his hands like fish, eager to be caught. ‘ That’s who you are. The newest recruit. ’ He didn’t know what they were thinking, bringing in a pureblood society brat into the fold — didn’t they have enough of those lying about already? — but that was a discussion for later. He shoved the inventory paper at the boy’s chest. ‘ Here’s your first assignment: restock the cabinets, ’ Severus folded his arms and looked at Vanity expectantly. ‘ If you drop one, you’ll get kicked out of the Order. ’ He turned around and walked back towards his satchel of brews. He couldn’t help adding, with a flippant tone, ‘ and just so you know, they’re as much mine as I am theirs. ’ The bedroom was an equal opportunity playground.

News traveled fast, especially in an organization as small as this one, but not fast enough as far as Severus was concerned. He made his way to the Prewett estate as soon as he heard, not ready to believe until he saw — and asked, and checked, and tested — for himself with his own two eyes.

The door clicked open, and Severus stepped inside. 

He looked at the young man in silence. It was strange, like walking into a room where everything was slanted sideways and stuck that way. He and Regulus Black were never friends. But they were in the trenches together, for years. As much as ‘together’ could count for anything among the Death Eaters. (And apparently it counted for something, Severus thought, teeth gritting together. He let the hope roll through him like an unpleasant potion he couldn’t un-swallow.) 

‘ If I was here to kill you, you wouldn’t have time to ask stupid questions, ’ he said, the door swinging shut behind him as he strode into the room. He stood in front of the newcomer, arms crossed, scanning him from head to toe without any effort to be discreet. Then he looked him in the eye. ‘ Regulus Black. ’ He didn’t move. An invisible hand passed over the other’s mind with light fingers, a pick-pocket of thoughts. ‘ You don’t look half as dead as I was told you were. ’

a closed starter for @wrongdeor​

location: the prewett estate

when: june 19th, 1984

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. Or, at least, Regulus was fairly sure it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, though that may have been the remains of the haze of adrenaline and sleep deprivation that now dogged his footsteps as he was entirely unwilling to sleep in this place, no matter how Moody or Jones or anyone had attempted to assure him of his safety. He might as well have been frozen to the seat they’d left him in for all he’d been convinced to move from it. At least it was against the wall with an easy view of the door. 

There was no telling what the room might hold, what might be hidden behind faded wallpaper and the sun-bleached outline of rugs. Regulus was not someone typically prone to extensive worries, not with the curiosity that made every day something new. That didn’t apply here. It was unfamiliar and filled with people who expected him to take a great deal purely on their words and promises.

The person that he saw when he looked over from where his gaze had been fixed between two floorboards, one curling up and the other missing a nail, was not who he’d expected. Oh, he’d known this so-called Order attracted strange kinds. It brought him into its folds after all, but there were only so many familiar faces he expected. Severus Snape was not one of them.

“Severus?” It was a question more on whether or not he was tired enough to start hallucinating. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time in his life. “Severus, what are you… Why are you here?” He stopped and all the color drained from Regulus’ face. “Are you here to kill me before I can speak to anyone?” He didn’t want that to be true. He’d liked Severus towards the end of all that, admired their mind and their ability to rival him in his worst moods, but the reasons for him to be sharing a room with them were slim. He didn’t trust it.

healerrosier​:

Miraculously, Evan refrained from rolling his eyes at James’ antics. There was a brief moment where he shared a similar look of disbelief to Severus’ before clearing his throat. “I’ve done what I can do for the time being,” He admitted. “And as much as I would like to properly revive her, I’ll be sparing her and Theodosia from the childish antics.”

He could have said more. Maybe he should have, come to think of it, but Severus had managed to say everything that was running through his mind without being the one to say anything.

Rather than say anything, Evan pressed his tongue against his cheek and shifted his attention to Theodosia and the list the diagnostic spell created. It didn’t matter how many times he ran his gaze over it — the answer was still the same. Not that he expected anything to change, but the information truly couldn’t have come at a worse time.

@perniciouspotter​

Evan answered his question - he’d stabilized Lily, he was doing what he could. Now they had to wait and it wasn’t a good idea to bring her back just to see James doing what he was doing right now anyway. But it wasn’t good enough. James couldn’t stop that racing if his heart - couldn’t help the way his eyes kept going back to her. She looked nearly dead, that gentle rise and fall the only indication that she wasn’t. Was this how she felt, all those months he was gone? Only she couldn’t see him. Didn’t know where he was or if he was alive.

The thought made him worse. Made him angry. Made him mean. He rounded on Severus and the retort from his old enemy came back with such an ease that James knew Snape had been thinking this for ages. He hated how the other wix could peg him so easily. How Severus could read into his mind, his thoughts, his feelings. It wasn’t just magic - it was just the ability of two people who had disliked one another for so many years. They understood each other too well - and that was the problem.

That was how well it could hurt. James didn’t have a retort. There was nothing he could say back to erase what Snape had put out into the world. They said he was nothing but a liability. That he’d done nothing but get in the way, make things harder for people. And all James heard was that he was nothing. Nothing. Nothing to Lily or to his friend or to the Order. And there wasn’t a thing in the world that terrified James Potter more than being nothing.

But instead of stalking away - instead of saying this or talking to someone about it or even just giving up in the face of someone who has suddenly become a better person than him - James threw a fist towards Severus to connect with their jaw.

@wrongdeor

Severus stumbled back as Potter punched him in the face.

He wasn’t shocked, per se — he lit a match into gasoline, he wanted an explosion, to plunge a knife where it hurt the most. And he knew Potter’s weaknesses better than anyone. But this sort of a scuffle hasn’t been common between them in years, even when they argued and butted heads in the meeting room. Not since Potter’s first month back from the grave.

He laughed. ‘ Nothing to say, Potter? Back to the basics with you I see! ’ Severus flicked his wrist and shot a Knock-Back hex at him. It was a schoolyard hex at best, but it seemed appropriate considering who it was.

@healerrosier​

Severus made his way to the infirmary at a brisk stride, Selwyn’s blood soaking through his robes and arms by the time he stepped into the room. The battle was not what any of them had expected, and the trickle of suspicion he’d felt prior to being dispatched was regrettably well placed.

Severus weaved his way through the chaos of the infirmary after a mission and found the empty cot, where he placed Selwyn carefully and cast a spell to check her vitals.

Rosier cursed. Severus looked up — and his eyes snagged on a flash of bright red hair. His breath hitched like he was punched in the throat. ‘ Yes, ’ he said quickly, and rattled off Selwyn’s vitals and the injuries she’d sustained in the battlefield that he knew of, making his way over to the other cot. ‘ What happened to her?! ’ He barked, standing over Lily’s cot. There was a peculiar clarity amidst the panic. It was him, and Rosier, and Lily, and the cold claw of fear that sunk itself down his spine and spread through him. Everything else dissolved into white noise.

Evan & @wrongdeor (@asphodelroot & @theoselwyn referenced) June 24, 1984 - Infirmary roughly a minute and a half after Theo got brought in

Evan could handle chaos. It was part of his day job so handling injuries after the mission shouldn’t have felt nearly as exhausting as it did. Not even two full teams back and he was already dealing with one person in critical condition and the rest of the team having come back concussed or worst. He would owe a thank you to Emmeline later since she was doing a phenomenal job at going back and forth between people. She had better bedside manner than his own but he had the excuse of worrying about multiple people if it came to someone complaining to Hestia or Alastor. At the end of the day, he cared about no one dying more than being viewed as the friendly healer putting up with being sworn at, screamed at, or both.

He had been about to take a seat and catch his breath for a moment when Severus came in with someone, merely earning an arched brow and a groan before he shifted his attention from Lily to the two.

“Status update?” He asked, expression faltering upon realizing who the person Severus had laid out on the one empty cot was. “Fucking hell, shit-” Evan snapped his mouth shut to avoid saying anything more unintelligible than that, pinching the bridge of his nose before he spoke again. “Theodosia. We- Can I switch with you? I’ve got Lily and will update you once you update me.”

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

Date: June 24th, 1984, just after leaving the Entry Room Location: The Prewett Estate, infirmary  @wrongdeor & @healerrosier

James moved quickly from his argument - possible argument? - with Jones down the corridor to the infirmary. Lily, fuck, Lily. She could be dead. She could be dying. He couldn’t fucking believe that he’d let her end them when he knew it might end up like this between them and they’d be left with nothing but tainted memories. He could’ve had four more months with her. Damn it, Lily.

He was angry and tired and so, so fucking terrified. But he was also keeping his cool, Hestia’s words about how blowing up wouldn’t help him - how Evan wouldn’t let him stay - ringing through his ears. And, by the time he made it to the infirmary, he was almost calm. Almost ready to sit by her bedside and stay out of Rosier’s way.

Until - 

Fucking Severus Snape. As though he was the dragon he’d conjured earlier that morning, James roared with life, a sudden energy renewed in him. Because Snape was standing over Lily’s bedside. Snape was watching her, making sure she had an even rise and fall of her chest. “You!” James snarled, that simmering rage rearing it’s ugly head as he moved over to Severus and yanked on the collar of his shirt, pulling him back, away from Lily. “Get the fuck away from her!”

Severus had spent the last three days brewing batches of dittany and dreamless sleep as well as a number of healing potions to restock the Order’s supply after the disastrous mission last week. He spent his afternoons and some mornings making his way through his less than scrupulous social circles — decidedly more entertaining and, for this particular purpose, useful — sniffing out whatever intel he can find about the whereabouts and activities of his masked friends.

He woke up this morning with instructions to meet the Dark Lord in the evening. Severus couldn’t know if it was for their private lessons, a mission, or something else entirely. He was simply grateful for the early notice. It gave him time to rearrange his schedule and mentally prepare himself. And so here he was, late in the morning stacking vials into the infirmary cupboards when the doors swung open. He looked up from the inventory list in his hand to see a new face standing in the doorway, mouth agape, features twisted into a look of profound shock and paralysis. Severus reached into his pocket for his wand but didn’t take it out. He gave the intruder a moment to gather his wits about him, but the moment dragged on, and it was becoming really quite uncomfortable being on the receiving end of such a face.

‘ What. ’

The Peacock’s Pet

LOCATION: Prewett House DATE: June 27th, 1984 @wrongdeor

Elliot opened the door to the kitchen, grimaced, and closed it. He had been trying to find the infirmary (not because he was hurt, but simply as an exercise in navigation), but despite his fervent attempt to memorize the layout of the old Prewett House when Hestia had taken him on the tour yesterday, he couldn’t seem to get it straight in his head now. It was discouraging—or no, he told himself, it wasn’t discouraging, because he refused to let himself be discouraged. It was just…not encouraging. That was all. There was quite a wide gap between encouraged and discouraged, and he was simply neither.

He was still getting his feet under himself, he told himself, and that was fine. That was perfectly expected, perfectly natural. There was a lot to learn, after all, about the Order of the Phoenix. About being part of the Order of the Phoenix. He had only been an official member for two days—a little less than one-and-a-half, really, if you went by the slanting old grandfather clock slumped in the corner—so of course he was still getting his feet under himself. That was nothing to be ashamed of. That was perfectly natural.

None of that stopped him from feeling like he’d fallen right off those feet and into some sort of bizarre dreamscape when he opened the next door down the hallway and saw Severus Snape sitting inside. Elliot’s jaw dropped and absolutely no sound came out of his mouth as he stared—no, gaped—at the other wix in abject stupefaction. He stood in the open doorway for several seconds without moving, without even remembering to breathe, his brain scrabbling desperately as it tried to process what he was seeing.

What in the name of Merlin’s hairiest toes was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoys’ favorite side-piece doing in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!?

@asphodelroot

Early January, 1984. Spinner’s End.

The air was damp with the January rain, pouring over the streets of Cokeworth in relentless sheets. The windows of the old house were shut and sealed, the four walls wrapped in wards and heating spells. Brick and mortar didn’t hold magic the way old stone or pine wood did, and so the cold seeped through the cracks as it pleased, slow and unbothered.

When Severus claimed this house after his father’s passing, he’d done so with a bitter heart. He resented needing anything from his father, in life or in death, but by then he was tired of the bare room above the apothecary and had grown wise to the need for distance, for a space beyond the prying eyes of his Master. Thus it came to be that only three years after his dignified march out of Spinner’s End, bursting with pride and purpose, Severus found himself slipping back into his old home, silent as shame, even as the only witness to this humiliation was himself.

And now Lily, too. Who once was witness to all that Severus is and was and could be, thus it seemed fitting that she’d reclaim that role upon re-entering his life.

He set the pot of lentil soup upon the wooden coffee table, along the plate of cut bread, and poured a bowl for himself and another for Lily. They’d spent all morning and afternoon in the library beneath the house, pouring over books and spells as the row of cauldrons sizzled and rolled over a low fire. The scent of hellebore and rosemary drifted up to the living room. The fire crackled on in the quiet room.

He sat on the couch beside her and brought his knees up to his chest. He shook pepper onto his bowl and then lifted the shaker to his friend. ‘ Pepper? Or salt? ’

Evan nodded when Severus went on about Theo, face paling. He would have been about to start working on the serious injuries if it weren’t for knowing he had said he would give an update. His gaze stuck to Theo until he reached the point of explaining his next steps in regards to treating Lily.

“Parchment of ailments is in the top drawer of the desk — two pages worth,” He murmured then pointed toward the desk. “London got met with an explosion. Evans appears to have gotten the brunt of it. Phoenix tears have been administered and the broken bones have been reset. I was going to take care of the cosmetic part of things once certain the tears were successful. It’s been about ten minutes since using them.” He pressed his teeth together to suppress the worried look that seemed desperate to appear. “Original plan was to keep her under for the evening to give her body a chance to rest. The tears may accelerate things a little. I’ve only ever used them on external injuries but a few drops by mouth seemed like the best call so I am uncertain of what to expect. If you think there’s something I may have missed… I wouldn’t have suggested switching if I didn’t trust you.”

Anyone but Theodosia being brought in, and he would have let Severus work on them. “She’s stable for now and that’s the most I can ask for. I wouldn’t have been able to move her to St. Mungo’s with the condition she was in when Bones and Lovegood brought her in.”

Severus took the parchment from the drawer and listened intently to Rosier’s updates as he read the report. Again the cold and distant panic beat against his ears from far away as if through a body of water. 

London got met with an explosion. Evans appears to have gotten the brunt of it. 

‘ Phoenix tears, ’ Severus muttered. He looked at Lily, his lips pressed together in a flat line, teeth gritting helplessly. He looked at Rosier as the report wound down and the man said that he trusted Severus. He didn’t miss the hesitance, the unspoken don’t make me regret trusting you that followed the tail end of those words. ‘ Of course, ’ said Severus with a brisk nod. ‘ I’ll keep an eye on her. ’ He moved to her bedside, the parchment crinkling in his hand with how hard he gripped it. 

He cast diagnostic spells of his own, read their results, tracked the progress of the Phoenix tears. He stood rigidly by her bedside, fingertips touching her wrist, feeling for a pulse. He watched and waited. It was all he could do.

End.

melancolialunar​:

Remus was stuck in a hazy existence, as if the very edges of life had been blurred out from the pain. It was difficult to care about anything when his entire body was busy putting itself back together. It was almost a miracle he even managed to be walking and moving like a semi-human – he remembered back in the day, having to be carried out to the infirmary in the mornings, unable to even stand on his feet. It was either a great fortune or a tragedy that his body seemed to have gotten more used to transformations now.

Careless as he was, he didn’t pay any of this situation any mind, for a hot second. Not his raggedy clothes that were three sizes too big and probably made him look like a hag, not the state of his father’s home, not the food that Severus chose to share on the table. He was careless as he sat down on the floor, limbs folding down ungracefully like a puppet crumbling to the ground. His skin felt on fire, as if it had been scrubbed raw, nerve-ends exposed, and feeling the fabric of the couch against it was too painful.

He picked up the bowl and was halfway through scarfing its contents down when he started caring. The soup was much appreciated to a growling, empty stomach, a state of being that Remus hardly even noticed anymore. It warmed up his insides, his hands, it soothed the dull ache on his knuckles. It felt nice. “I can look like death and be focused. I’m multifaceted like that.” He joked defensively, suddenly hyper aware that he must’ve looked like some kind of inhuman wild creature, lit up with bruises, all curled up around a bowl of soup, eating up as if he hadn’t seen food in the last month.

In hopes to regain some of his decency, he wiped at his mouth with the back of a hand and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “My mum used to make chicken soup. When I was sick, I mean. Did Lily tell you about this?” It was simply curiosity nagging at the back of his head, a tongue that found itself without much of a filter in the wake of so many wounds to lick. It’d be a funny coincidence if it hadn’t been Lily’s doing.

The dreaded request came – walk me through it – and Remus shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth, to avoid answering for just a second longer. “Locked myself up in the cage. Turned.” His eyes focused on a spot on the wall, as he found he felt much less exposed if he didn’t have to look at Severus when he spoke about his turns. “It was… different than last time. Worse. I was aware of everything, had all my senses, but I couldn’t control it. Was like… taking a back seat to a first-person horror show, pretty much.” He knew he’d have to elaborate, bring out the details, Severus was too meticulous with his academic writing to let anything pass. But he took a lingering moment to breathe, and waited for more questions.

Severus waited for Lupin to be ready to speak, eyes taking in the littered bruises and wounds that he could see despite the baggy rumpled clothing. He came prepared with bruise salves and dittany, and made a mental note to produce them later before he left. 

When Lupin did speak it was with a defensive comment. Severus raised an eyebrow, but only to suppress a smile. The werewolf was clearly uncomfortable — as he was in most situations. Lupin seemed to interact with the world around him as if through an ill-fit bodysuit for skin, and it was more pronounced now than when he was surrounded by his friends. It was something that got under Severus’ skin when they were younger, when he looked down on people who couldn’t carry a conversation with confidence. In the past few months, however, Severus had gained a new appreciation for the werewolf’s hidden resilience. Then Lupin spoke about his mum. ‘ No, ’ he said in response to the question. He paused. ‘ My mum made chicken soup, too. When I got sick. She taught me how to … ’ He gestured vaguely with a pen towards the bowl of soup and the sliced loaf of bread. She taught him how to cook and bake, among other things. Some of his fondest memories were atop a stool in the simple kitchen at his Spinner’s End home. It was part of the reason the kitchen saw little to no renovation when Severus reclaimed the property two years ago, despite the rest of the house getting turned on its head.

Severus didn’t look at Lupin directly as he explained what happened. It was a poor attempt at leniency, averting his gaze so as not to lay the full weight of his attention on the man as he struggled to recount the events. They were not friends. But despite the invasive nature of his questions, Severus did not enjoy watching him struggle. He listened attentively. Took notes. When Lupin finished his rather short explanation, Severus pretended to consult his notes for longer to give him a moment to breathe. Then he asked his questions. ‘ Did the sharpness of your senses fluctuate throughout the period of transformation? Could you keep track of time accurately while transformed? And how well do you remember the events of that night? ’