Retribution
Jun. 25th, 2007 11:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valis2Title: Retribution
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/character(s): SS, RL, HP
Challenge: Dark Side of Snape/Lupin
Summary: Prompt: Answer violence with violence. If one of us falls today, five of them must fall tomorrow. – Eva Peron.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Scholastic & Bloomsbury Books all own the Harry Potterverse. I make no money from this work of fiction.
Warnings: Character deaths (mostly offscreen, not the main characters), angst, violence, no sexual content
Notes: ~3500 words. A giant thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
odddollstories for betaing, and lindahoyland for Britpicking.
This is a NEW fic, I promise. It's based on a dream I once had of Remus and Harry roaming a devastated urban area. It's definitely an experiment, and dark, and I hope you'll let me know what you think.
Remus Lupin walked through an empty city.
Cars littered the deserted street in odd jumbles. Desolation hung over shops, lingered in the flats above. A book lay on the pavement, its pages ruffled by the breeze.
Unreal. It did not seem possible, the silent street, empty windows.
Sweat trickled down his neck. Copper and salt on his tongue. His left foot blazed with pain at every step.
Harry walked next to him, wand still clutched in his hand. His mouth was a grim line in the pale starkness of his face.
Far behind them Remus knew that Severus followed, straggling, a crow with a broken wing, torn and bloodied robes hanging awkwardly. He refused to look back.
A perfect blue sky stretched above him. Cloudless. The exact shade of her last—
A wave of grief washed over him, and he doubled over in the street, clutching his knees. Harry came out of his reverie, and turned to look back at Severus, his eyes narrowed. The fingers gripping his wand whitened.
"It's all right," said Remus roughly. "It's not him. It's all right. I just..."
Harry nodded, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.
Looking down at his feet, Remus realized that he had lost his left shoe.
"Here—just give me a minute," said Remus. The door to a shoe shop hung open, and he limped in. The lights were still on, and he checked the shelves until he found a pair in his size. He dug the crumpled tissue out of the toes, grimacing at his dirty, scraped knuckles.
The shoes were a bit tight, but they would do. He avoided the mirrors as they left.
Severus had gained on them. He was nearly to the shop, and Remus caught a quick look from sharp, piercing black eyes before turning to follow Harry.
The sun lit them from behind, lengthening their shadows. He could see Severus's weary shade weaving back and forth next to his own.
The shoes pinched his toes, and he loosened the laces. Straightening up, he scratched his scalp, which tingled unpleasantly. Peter's last hex had nearly taken his head off.
The street curved to the left, shifting from businesses to homes. They needed shelter for the night. Shelter, and food. Harry's left arm looked cursed, as well.
He inhaled the drowsy, warm scent of flowers blooming. It seemed wrong, somehow, that they could still bloom. The last shop they passed was a coffee house, tables and chairs still arranged on the pavement. He looked in through the open door; a cup of coffee had overturned, pooling on the counter, dripping on the floor.
Harry walked next to him, his sleeve ripped and burnt, his eyes unfocused.
Remus tripped on his laces and nearly fell on his face. He reached automatically for his wand to retie them, his hand finding only an empty pocket.
Peter, snapping it in two. A tiny gleam of light as the magical core shriveled and died. Laughter, painful and harsh.
"Remus?" asked Harry.
"I'm all right," he said softly, leaning down to retie his shoes.
Every house was like its neighbor, here. Sturdy detached homes, some with minivans still parked in the front, porch lights on, obscenely waiting for their families to return.
Lilies blooming in the front garden. Remus winced.
Severus chose the house, finally, pointing out the sturdy roll-down blinds in every window. It was more likely that he couldn't go much further; he clutched at his ribs with his good arm, and his face was white and tense in the amber light of early evening.
They'd passed other houses, and even though Remus didn't think a few extra lights would be noticed, it was better to attract as little attention as possible.
Harry wouldn't enter the house at first, watching Severus with barely concealed loathing on his face, still clutching his wand.
"Come on," urged Remus. "I'll make you a cup of tea."
No fireplace, and even if there had been, it was doubtful that the Floo Network was operational. Remus sat down in the living room with a heavy sigh. They didn't dare Apparate, not with the Death Eaters out in force. No brooms. Harry had the only wand.
The couch was upholstered in huge hideous roses. Two of the walls were wallpapered in vertical stripes. The third bore a huge array of photographs, smiling faces, posed portraits; a few were missing, leaving empty hooks, odd gaps.
He kicked off the shoes, stripping off the filthy, torn sock on his left foot. Harry and Severus had both disappeared into opposite ends of the house, leaving him alone.
"Well, I want a cup of tea," he said to himself.
The kitchen was bright and clean, and he rummaged through cupboards until he found a tin of Tetley's. He opened the door to the fridge, feeling a momentary twinge as he picked up the milk. Still fresh. How long would it last?
How long would any of them last?
He took a deep breath and put a kettle on the stove. It took three drawers for him to find the utensils, and as the water came to a boil, he leaned back against the table.
Through the checkered curtains he could see the sun setting, the last few moments of daylight silently ticking away. Fingering the spoon in his hand, he looked around the kitchen. The refrigerator was papered in essays with high marks and crude yet vibrant paintings.
The kettle whistled, and he took it off the stove. Rummaging further, he found a squeeze bottle of honey.
He would never make her a cup of tea again.
The spoon clattered to the floor, and he clutched at the table, anything, as his world tilted and greyed.
She would never touch a spoon again. She would never charm a lemon to squeeze itself over her cup again.
His chest ached, broken crockery grinding against bone.
He desperately wanted to stop the sun from sinking. Her body was still out there, on the battleground, her eyes frozen to blue. The thought of the dark touching her scraped against his soul. In another moment the last day to know her would end. Each passing day would steal her farther away from him, farther away from her scent, her hair, her lively spirit.
Tomorrow he would wake up in a world without her.
That night, in a borrowed house, Remus dreamt of tearing the throat out of a stag, the scent of blood splashing into his nostrils, his fingers gripping fur.
There was no way Remus could repair his robes without a wand. Even with a wand it would be a losing battle; they were ruined.
A hallway led to the master bedroom, and he opened the door to find that Harry had claimed it. Remus remembered Voldemort's curse. "I need to look at your arm, Harry."
"I fixed it already," said Harry. He'd stripped off robes and changed into Muggle clothing. The shirt looked suspiciously like a girl's.
"Can I see?" he asked mildly.
Harry rolled up his sleeve, baring unblemished flesh. Remus marveled that he'd been able to lift the hex so easily. "Good work," he murmured.
Harry nodded in response.
The wardrobes were full of clothing meant for a man taller and wider than Remus, and he went through again and again, frustrated, until he found a pair of old jeans shoved far back behind everything else. There was a cardigan, too, lumpy and brown, but it was the only thing that even came close to fitting.
He went into the bathroom and stripped off his robes. The mirror, too big to avoid, revealed burns and cuts, blood and grime, and he could not look into his own eyes.
The shower was hot and quick, and he refused to think beyond lathering. His scalp itched maddeningly, even after he was done.
Back in the bedroom, nearly tripping over the too-long jeans, he found that Harry had not moved an inch.
"Could you shorten these?" he asked, pointing to the cuffs.
Harry seemed to wake up, and nodded, pointing at the legs and flicking his wand.
"Thanks," said Remus.
"I'm going," said Harry.
"What?"
"I'm going. I have to get back to them—her." His face was stubborn. Defiant.
"It's too dangerous," he said flatly.
"Herm—she was still alive," said Harry.
"If you go, you'll be captured," said Remus. "He'll kill you, Harry."
Harry didn't reply.
Remus opened each door in the landing, finding a cupboard and a young girl's bedroom completely decorated in pink.
Another door yielded her older sister's room, by the look of it. Posters for a group called My Chemical Romance littered the walls, tacked up at rakish angles. Severus was rolled up in a ball of pain on the bed.
"I've brought you some soup," said Remus, sounding ridiculous even to his own ears.
"I don't need soup," hissed Severus, his eyes glittering.
Remus set the tray down on the bedside table, dislodging several lipsticks. "What do you need, then?" This close, he could see the marks of battle. The air vibrated with Dark hexes that swirled about his body.
"Go away."
"Harry left."
Severus's head shot up. "You...let him go?"
"Why did you kill Bellatrix?" asked Remus. "Why are you here?"
Severus didn't reply.
Harry walked in at dawn, looking drawn and defeated, his eyes hollow. The air around him smelled of sulphur.
"We need to cast a few protective spells," said Remus. Harry handed him his wand without a word and then walked to the master bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Harry's wand performed dutifully for him, but it wasn't his own, and it felt strange and awkward to use it, almost like casting left-handed. The only company was the wind, lightly shaking the trees, the warm June morning brightening around him.
The houses were eerily empty and quiet. He sat down on the immaculate lawn and watched as the sun crawled further up the sky, until the horrible stillness made him shiver and long for company.
Severus was still on the bed, eyes tightly shut. The soup was untouched.
"I've borrowed Harry's wand," Remus said awkwardly.
His eyes shot open, red-rimmed and bleak. "Don't," he rasped. "You're not capable."
Remus bristled. "I can try, at least."
"You don't know—"
"I'm not giving you the wand. It's either me, or nothing."
Severus tensed visibly, and then nodded, reluctantly, his eyes falling shut again.
Harry did not stir or even open his eyes as Remus left his wand on the bedside table.
Through the window Remus could see the sun setting on the empty neighborhood. He heated up another tin of soup, dividing it into two bowls.
"None for me," said Harry.
"I didn't make you any," said Remus.
Harry nodded. "I'm leaving."
"You shouldn't." Fear skittered up his spine.
"And where will you go, Potter?" Severus sneered at him as he emerged from the hallway. "Off to save your girlfriend? How—" He suddenly doubled over in a fit of coughing.
"Shut it," said Harry, his face transfixed with rage.
"Harry..." said Remus.
"She's there," said Harry. "I have to save her. She's alive."
"Then they're using her as bait," said Severus with a sneer. "How clever of you to give them exactly what they want."
A muscle bunched in Harry's cheek, and Remus was suddenly reminded of James standing against Death Eaters.
"Harry, give us time," said Remus weakly. "We should try to contact the others. There's always Hogwarts..."
Harry winced. "I'm leaving." He turned and stalked off, slamming the door behind him.
Remus stared at the ceiling. Moonlight filtered into the room, illuminating the chocolate décor of the guest bedroom.
Sleep whirled over his head, just out of reach. He got up and padded to Severus's room, listening to his breathing.
"I can hear you," said Severus finally.
Remus came in and sat down at the dresser. In the gloom, Severus seemed both darker and paler than ever. "Why did you kill Bellatrix?"
Severus was silent.
"You killed Albus," said Remus flatly. "You murdered him." He heard Severus take a shallow breath. "And...and yesterday, you cast the Killing Curse on Bellatrix. I saw it, Severus. Everyone saw it." Even Voldemort; Remus still remembered the look of rage on his inhuman face.
"How very observant of you."
"Tell me why you killed her." Anger rose, twisting his stomach.
"I don't believe I shall."
"You're playing a game with us," said Remus. "You're watching us. You're going to sell us out."
"Don't be an idiot," snarled Severus. "This isn't a game."
Remus realized his hands were clenched into fists. "Then explain yourself. That shouldn't be so difficult."
Severus glared at him, or at least it felt like it in the dark. "Go away."
"Harry doesn't want you here."
"That makes two of us."
"I don't trust you at all," he said angrily, but he knew it wasn't true.
Remus sat at the kitchen table, morosely staring at his teacup. That he thought of it as his after only two nights bothered him. Thoughts circled around and around his fevered brain; Severus's pale face, the isolation, the horrid tension of not knowing when—if—Harry would come back.
A squeak of hinges distracted him, and Harry came in through the back door into the kitchen, his eyes hooded and lifeless. His clothes were marred with rips and burns; there was an angry red welt on his cheek.
"You're back," said Remus, relieved.
"So the Chosen One has returned," said Severus tauntingly.
Remus could see a flicker of movement behind Harry, and frowned. His heart squeezed as he recognized the taller figure. "Neville?" he cried, standing up.
Severus made a noise, something between a gasp and a shout, and Remus felt his knees give way until he was kneeling on the tiled floor.
It was Neville, dressed in his clothes, his hair, his hands, but it was not Neville in his eyes, vacant, empty. He walked in like a puppet on a string, his every movement jerky and uncoordinated, his blank face so frighteningly devoid of any human emotion that Remus felt bile rise in his throat.
"No," said Remus, sobbing.
"I found him," said Harry in a rush. "I found him, and he's still alive. I brought him back. You can help him, you have to—"
"He's been Kissed." Severus's voice, frightened, appalled, sounded like it came from miles away.
Harry frowned and shook his head. "No, he's just shell-shocked..."
Remus wiped tears away. "Harry..."
"He wouldn't follow me. He wouldn't follow. I asked him again and again, and then I made him follow me." Harry looked at Remus, imploring. "You can help him, can't you?"
Remus shook his head.
"No!" shouted Harry. "They're all dead, they're dead, but he's alive! He has to be alive!"
"He is an abomination," said Severus angrily. "Kill it."
Harry turned toward him, his eyes blazing, his wand outstretched. "I don't want to hear you anymore."
Severus choked, grasping at his throat. No sound emerged as his fingers clawed at his windpipe.
"Stop it!" said Remus, horrified.
Harry lowered his wand, and Severus sank to the floor, gasping.
"You have to do something," hissed Severus. "He's mad!"
"Do something?" said Remus. "What would you have me do? He's—he's lost Ron, and Hermione. Dumbledore is gone. Half of London is a crater. What am I to do for him?"
Remus found Severus at the end of the hall, staring into the pink, fluffy bedroom, where the slack puppet that had once been Neville Longbottom stared at nothing, hair mussed, vacant.
"I've made something to eat," said Remus.
"It has to be destroyed," said Severus softly. "I...it has to be destroyed."
"Come into the kitchen." Remus took his wrist and pulled him away, feeling the erratic heartbeat trapped near the bone.
"I'm not hungry," said Severus, looking ill.
"I've been thinking," said Remus, sitting down at the table. "We should try to get to Hogwarts." He heard a creak in the hallway; Harry was listening.
Severus sat down as well, his damaged wand arm held close. "Hogwarts?" he spat. "Have you gone insane, too?"
"It's still protected. We could shelter there." Hope warmed in his chest.
"You could shelter there," he said, his lips twisted into a snarl. "I could not. Or have you forgotten that I am a Death Eater?"
"Not anymore," said Remus. "I'm certain the school would let you in. And there might be others. It would be the logical place—"
"You cannot seriously expect us to traipse off to Hogwarts, on foot, no less, in the foolish hope that some halfwit students have had the same idea."
"There are worse ideas."
"Harry needs to kill the Dark Lord," said Severus savagely. "That is the only idea here. We should be planning how to destroy him, not a field trip back to school."
"Go to Hogwarts," said Harry, coming into the kitchen, eerily calm. "You'll be safe there. I'm not leaving."
"We need allies," said Remus. "We need to regroup."
"There's only one thing needed," said Harry. "Me. I'm going. I'm going tonight, at midnight, and I'm going to finish it."
"That's how this is going to end?" Snape laughed derisively. It echoed unpleasantly in the kitchen. "You, bloody idiot Gryffindor, walking in and offering yourself to him?"
"One of us has to kill the other. He knows it, and I know it."
"And you think your odds will be improved, somehow, by going in blind?" Severus straightened in his chair and winced. "You're going to get killed, and that will be it. It will be his world."
"Stay here and rot, coward," said Harry. "I don't care what you think. I don't care what you want. It's time for it to end." He turned and walked off toward the master bedroom, leaving Severus speechless with rage.
Remus woke with a start. The dark of evening had just barely touched the sky; he could see the orange blush of sunset.
Walking out of the guest bedroom, he noticed a light on; Severus was in the pink bedroom again.
Neville lay at his feet, a pillow obscuring his face.
"I had to," said Severus bitterly.
"Someone had to," said Remus, his heart frozen in his chest, his head filled with sorrow.
"It's always me," said Severus softly; the words seemed to burn him as they flew out of his mouth. "Again and again."
"You don't think Harry will win, do you." He swallowed, cold dread in the pit of his stomach.
Severus shook his head. "The Dark Lord..."
"What will you do?"
"Return to him." Severus looked broken. His eyes glistened in the pink glow of the room.
"Harry, you do have a choice," said Remus helplessly.
"Yes, I know." Harry had changed shirts. His wand poked out of the pocket of his jeans.
"Please reconsider. He's too powerful."
"He has to die. For Ron. For Hermione." His eyes blazed with retribution.
"I know, but there are other ways to do this." Fear rose within him, stark and freezing.
"You didn't see her," said Harry, his voice quaking. "You didn't see what they did to her."
"We've all lost—"
"You don't know!" shouted Harry. "I'm going to make him suffer for every curse. I'm going to make him swallow all of the pain he's caused, five times over."
"This isn't...Harry, this isn't how Dumbledore—"
"Dumbledore knew," said Harry, his eyes bright. "He knew what I would have to be. A murderer. I know what I have to do, Remus."
"It isn't set in stone," cried Remus. "You don't have to choose this path."
"Goodbye, Remus."
The door slammed. Remus let out a howl of anguish and fright.
Severus was next to him, and Remus turned to him, wrapped his arms around him, needing someone, something warm, something living, something to take away the cold fear that clutched at him.
Severus didn't return the embrace, but didn't pull away, either.
For a long moment Remus clung to him, anchoring himself with the heat in his arms, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"I tripped," Severus whispered in his ear.
"What?" said Remus, drawing back to look at him.
"At the battle."
Remus stared at him, uncomprehending.
The look on Severus's face was inscrutable. "I aimed the Killing Curse at Moody, but I tripped, and it struck Bellatrix instead."
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/character(s): SS, RL, HP
Challenge: Dark Side of Snape/Lupin
Summary: Prompt: Answer violence with violence. If one of us falls today, five of them must fall tomorrow. – Eva Peron.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Scholastic & Bloomsbury Books all own the Harry Potterverse. I make no money from this work of fiction.
Warnings: Character deaths (mostly offscreen, not the main characters), angst, violence, no sexual content
Notes: ~3500 words. A giant thank you to
odddollstories for betaing, and lindahoyland for Britpicking.This is a NEW fic, I promise. It's based on a dream I once had of Remus and Harry roaming a devastated urban area. It's definitely an experiment, and dark, and I hope you'll let me know what you think.
Remus Lupin walked through an empty city.
Cars littered the deserted street in odd jumbles. Desolation hung over shops, lingered in the flats above. A book lay on the pavement, its pages ruffled by the breeze.
Unreal. It did not seem possible, the silent street, empty windows.
Sweat trickled down his neck. Copper and salt on his tongue. His left foot blazed with pain at every step.
Harry walked next to him, wand still clutched in his hand. His mouth was a grim line in the pale starkness of his face.
Far behind them Remus knew that Severus followed, straggling, a crow with a broken wing, torn and bloodied robes hanging awkwardly. He refused to look back.
A perfect blue sky stretched above him. Cloudless. The exact shade of her last—
A wave of grief washed over him, and he doubled over in the street, clutching his knees. Harry came out of his reverie, and turned to look back at Severus, his eyes narrowed. The fingers gripping his wand whitened.
"It's all right," said Remus roughly. "It's not him. It's all right. I just..."
Harry nodded, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.
Looking down at his feet, Remus realized that he had lost his left shoe.
"Here—just give me a minute," said Remus. The door to a shoe shop hung open, and he limped in. The lights were still on, and he checked the shelves until he found a pair in his size. He dug the crumpled tissue out of the toes, grimacing at his dirty, scraped knuckles.
The shoes were a bit tight, but they would do. He avoided the mirrors as they left.
Severus had gained on them. He was nearly to the shop, and Remus caught a quick look from sharp, piercing black eyes before turning to follow Harry.
The sun lit them from behind, lengthening their shadows. He could see Severus's weary shade weaving back and forth next to his own.
The shoes pinched his toes, and he loosened the laces. Straightening up, he scratched his scalp, which tingled unpleasantly. Peter's last hex had nearly taken his head off.
The street curved to the left, shifting from businesses to homes. They needed shelter for the night. Shelter, and food. Harry's left arm looked cursed, as well.
He inhaled the drowsy, warm scent of flowers blooming. It seemed wrong, somehow, that they could still bloom. The last shop they passed was a coffee house, tables and chairs still arranged on the pavement. He looked in through the open door; a cup of coffee had overturned, pooling on the counter, dripping on the floor.
Harry walked next to him, his sleeve ripped and burnt, his eyes unfocused.
Remus tripped on his laces and nearly fell on his face. He reached automatically for his wand to retie them, his hand finding only an empty pocket.
Peter, snapping it in two. A tiny gleam of light as the magical core shriveled and died. Laughter, painful and harsh.
"Remus?" asked Harry.
"I'm all right," he said softly, leaning down to retie his shoes.
Every house was like its neighbor, here. Sturdy detached homes, some with minivans still parked in the front, porch lights on, obscenely waiting for their families to return.
Lilies blooming in the front garden. Remus winced.
Severus chose the house, finally, pointing out the sturdy roll-down blinds in every window. It was more likely that he couldn't go much further; he clutched at his ribs with his good arm, and his face was white and tense in the amber light of early evening.
They'd passed other houses, and even though Remus didn't think a few extra lights would be noticed, it was better to attract as little attention as possible.
Harry wouldn't enter the house at first, watching Severus with barely concealed loathing on his face, still clutching his wand.
"Come on," urged Remus. "I'll make you a cup of tea."
No fireplace, and even if there had been, it was doubtful that the Floo Network was operational. Remus sat down in the living room with a heavy sigh. They didn't dare Apparate, not with the Death Eaters out in force. No brooms. Harry had the only wand.
The couch was upholstered in huge hideous roses. Two of the walls were wallpapered in vertical stripes. The third bore a huge array of photographs, smiling faces, posed portraits; a few were missing, leaving empty hooks, odd gaps.
He kicked off the shoes, stripping off the filthy, torn sock on his left foot. Harry and Severus had both disappeared into opposite ends of the house, leaving him alone.
"Well, I want a cup of tea," he said to himself.
The kitchen was bright and clean, and he rummaged through cupboards until he found a tin of Tetley's. He opened the door to the fridge, feeling a momentary twinge as he picked up the milk. Still fresh. How long would it last?
How long would any of them last?
He took a deep breath and put a kettle on the stove. It took three drawers for him to find the utensils, and as the water came to a boil, he leaned back against the table.
Through the checkered curtains he could see the sun setting, the last few moments of daylight silently ticking away. Fingering the spoon in his hand, he looked around the kitchen. The refrigerator was papered in essays with high marks and crude yet vibrant paintings.
The kettle whistled, and he took it off the stove. Rummaging further, he found a squeeze bottle of honey.
He would never make her a cup of tea again.
The spoon clattered to the floor, and he clutched at the table, anything, as his world tilted and greyed.
She would never touch a spoon again. She would never charm a lemon to squeeze itself over her cup again.
His chest ached, broken crockery grinding against bone.
He desperately wanted to stop the sun from sinking. Her body was still out there, on the battleground, her eyes frozen to blue. The thought of the dark touching her scraped against his soul. In another moment the last day to know her would end. Each passing day would steal her farther away from him, farther away from her scent, her hair, her lively spirit.
Tomorrow he would wake up in a world without her.
That night, in a borrowed house, Remus dreamt of tearing the throat out of a stag, the scent of blood splashing into his nostrils, his fingers gripping fur.
There was no way Remus could repair his robes without a wand. Even with a wand it would be a losing battle; they were ruined.
A hallway led to the master bedroom, and he opened the door to find that Harry had claimed it. Remus remembered Voldemort's curse. "I need to look at your arm, Harry."
"I fixed it already," said Harry. He'd stripped off robes and changed into Muggle clothing. The shirt looked suspiciously like a girl's.
"Can I see?" he asked mildly.
Harry rolled up his sleeve, baring unblemished flesh. Remus marveled that he'd been able to lift the hex so easily. "Good work," he murmured.
Harry nodded in response.
The wardrobes were full of clothing meant for a man taller and wider than Remus, and he went through again and again, frustrated, until he found a pair of old jeans shoved far back behind everything else. There was a cardigan, too, lumpy and brown, but it was the only thing that even came close to fitting.
He went into the bathroom and stripped off his robes. The mirror, too big to avoid, revealed burns and cuts, blood and grime, and he could not look into his own eyes.
The shower was hot and quick, and he refused to think beyond lathering. His scalp itched maddeningly, even after he was done.
Back in the bedroom, nearly tripping over the too-long jeans, he found that Harry had not moved an inch.
"Could you shorten these?" he asked, pointing to the cuffs.
Harry seemed to wake up, and nodded, pointing at the legs and flicking his wand.
"Thanks," said Remus.
"I'm going," said Harry.
"What?"
"I'm going. I have to get back to them—her." His face was stubborn. Defiant.
"It's too dangerous," he said flatly.
"Herm—she was still alive," said Harry.
"If you go, you'll be captured," said Remus. "He'll kill you, Harry."
Harry didn't reply.
Remus opened each door in the landing, finding a cupboard and a young girl's bedroom completely decorated in pink.
Another door yielded her older sister's room, by the look of it. Posters for a group called My Chemical Romance littered the walls, tacked up at rakish angles. Severus was rolled up in a ball of pain on the bed.
"I've brought you some soup," said Remus, sounding ridiculous even to his own ears.
"I don't need soup," hissed Severus, his eyes glittering.
Remus set the tray down on the bedside table, dislodging several lipsticks. "What do you need, then?" This close, he could see the marks of battle. The air vibrated with Dark hexes that swirled about his body.
"Go away."
"Harry left."
Severus's head shot up. "You...let him go?"
"Why did you kill Bellatrix?" asked Remus. "Why are you here?"
Severus didn't reply.
Harry walked in at dawn, looking drawn and defeated, his eyes hollow. The air around him smelled of sulphur.
"We need to cast a few protective spells," said Remus. Harry handed him his wand without a word and then walked to the master bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Harry's wand performed dutifully for him, but it wasn't his own, and it felt strange and awkward to use it, almost like casting left-handed. The only company was the wind, lightly shaking the trees, the warm June morning brightening around him.
The houses were eerily empty and quiet. He sat down on the immaculate lawn and watched as the sun crawled further up the sky, until the horrible stillness made him shiver and long for company.
Severus was still on the bed, eyes tightly shut. The soup was untouched.
"I've borrowed Harry's wand," Remus said awkwardly.
His eyes shot open, red-rimmed and bleak. "Don't," he rasped. "You're not capable."
Remus bristled. "I can try, at least."
"You don't know—"
"I'm not giving you the wand. It's either me, or nothing."
Severus tensed visibly, and then nodded, reluctantly, his eyes falling shut again.
Harry did not stir or even open his eyes as Remus left his wand on the bedside table.
Through the window Remus could see the sun setting on the empty neighborhood. He heated up another tin of soup, dividing it into two bowls.
"None for me," said Harry.
"I didn't make you any," said Remus.
Harry nodded. "I'm leaving."
"You shouldn't." Fear skittered up his spine.
"And where will you go, Potter?" Severus sneered at him as he emerged from the hallway. "Off to save your girlfriend? How—" He suddenly doubled over in a fit of coughing.
"Shut it," said Harry, his face transfixed with rage.
"Harry..." said Remus.
"She's there," said Harry. "I have to save her. She's alive."
"Then they're using her as bait," said Severus with a sneer. "How clever of you to give them exactly what they want."
A muscle bunched in Harry's cheek, and Remus was suddenly reminded of James standing against Death Eaters.
"Harry, give us time," said Remus weakly. "We should try to contact the others. There's always Hogwarts..."
Harry winced. "I'm leaving." He turned and stalked off, slamming the door behind him.
Remus stared at the ceiling. Moonlight filtered into the room, illuminating the chocolate décor of the guest bedroom.
Sleep whirled over his head, just out of reach. He got up and padded to Severus's room, listening to his breathing.
"I can hear you," said Severus finally.
Remus came in and sat down at the dresser. In the gloom, Severus seemed both darker and paler than ever. "Why did you kill Bellatrix?"
Severus was silent.
"You killed Albus," said Remus flatly. "You murdered him." He heard Severus take a shallow breath. "And...and yesterday, you cast the Killing Curse on Bellatrix. I saw it, Severus. Everyone saw it." Even Voldemort; Remus still remembered the look of rage on his inhuman face.
"How very observant of you."
"Tell me why you killed her." Anger rose, twisting his stomach.
"I don't believe I shall."
"You're playing a game with us," said Remus. "You're watching us. You're going to sell us out."
"Don't be an idiot," snarled Severus. "This isn't a game."
Remus realized his hands were clenched into fists. "Then explain yourself. That shouldn't be so difficult."
Severus glared at him, or at least it felt like it in the dark. "Go away."
"Harry doesn't want you here."
"That makes two of us."
"I don't trust you at all," he said angrily, but he knew it wasn't true.
Remus sat at the kitchen table, morosely staring at his teacup. That he thought of it as his after only two nights bothered him. Thoughts circled around and around his fevered brain; Severus's pale face, the isolation, the horrid tension of not knowing when—if—Harry would come back.
A squeak of hinges distracted him, and Harry came in through the back door into the kitchen, his eyes hooded and lifeless. His clothes were marred with rips and burns; there was an angry red welt on his cheek.
"You're back," said Remus, relieved.
"So the Chosen One has returned," said Severus tauntingly.
Remus could see a flicker of movement behind Harry, and frowned. His heart squeezed as he recognized the taller figure. "Neville?" he cried, standing up.
Severus made a noise, something between a gasp and a shout, and Remus felt his knees give way until he was kneeling on the tiled floor.
It was Neville, dressed in his clothes, his hair, his hands, but it was not Neville in his eyes, vacant, empty. He walked in like a puppet on a string, his every movement jerky and uncoordinated, his blank face so frighteningly devoid of any human emotion that Remus felt bile rise in his throat.
"No," said Remus, sobbing.
"I found him," said Harry in a rush. "I found him, and he's still alive. I brought him back. You can help him, you have to—"
"He's been Kissed." Severus's voice, frightened, appalled, sounded like it came from miles away.
Harry frowned and shook his head. "No, he's just shell-shocked..."
Remus wiped tears away. "Harry..."
"He wouldn't follow me. He wouldn't follow. I asked him again and again, and then I made him follow me." Harry looked at Remus, imploring. "You can help him, can't you?"
Remus shook his head.
"No!" shouted Harry. "They're all dead, they're dead, but he's alive! He has to be alive!"
"He is an abomination," said Severus angrily. "Kill it."
Harry turned toward him, his eyes blazing, his wand outstretched. "I don't want to hear you anymore."
Severus choked, grasping at his throat. No sound emerged as his fingers clawed at his windpipe.
"Stop it!" said Remus, horrified.
Harry lowered his wand, and Severus sank to the floor, gasping.
"You have to do something," hissed Severus. "He's mad!"
"Do something?" said Remus. "What would you have me do? He's—he's lost Ron, and Hermione. Dumbledore is gone. Half of London is a crater. What am I to do for him?"
Remus found Severus at the end of the hall, staring into the pink, fluffy bedroom, where the slack puppet that had once been Neville Longbottom stared at nothing, hair mussed, vacant.
"I've made something to eat," said Remus.
"It has to be destroyed," said Severus softly. "I...it has to be destroyed."
"Come into the kitchen." Remus took his wrist and pulled him away, feeling the erratic heartbeat trapped near the bone.
"I'm not hungry," said Severus, looking ill.
"I've been thinking," said Remus, sitting down at the table. "We should try to get to Hogwarts." He heard a creak in the hallway; Harry was listening.
Severus sat down as well, his damaged wand arm held close. "Hogwarts?" he spat. "Have you gone insane, too?"
"It's still protected. We could shelter there." Hope warmed in his chest.
"You could shelter there," he said, his lips twisted into a snarl. "I could not. Or have you forgotten that I am a Death Eater?"
"Not anymore," said Remus. "I'm certain the school would let you in. And there might be others. It would be the logical place—"
"You cannot seriously expect us to traipse off to Hogwarts, on foot, no less, in the foolish hope that some halfwit students have had the same idea."
"There are worse ideas."
"Harry needs to kill the Dark Lord," said Severus savagely. "That is the only idea here. We should be planning how to destroy him, not a field trip back to school."
"Go to Hogwarts," said Harry, coming into the kitchen, eerily calm. "You'll be safe there. I'm not leaving."
"We need allies," said Remus. "We need to regroup."
"There's only one thing needed," said Harry. "Me. I'm going. I'm going tonight, at midnight, and I'm going to finish it."
"That's how this is going to end?" Snape laughed derisively. It echoed unpleasantly in the kitchen. "You, bloody idiot Gryffindor, walking in and offering yourself to him?"
"One of us has to kill the other. He knows it, and I know it."
"And you think your odds will be improved, somehow, by going in blind?" Severus straightened in his chair and winced. "You're going to get killed, and that will be it. It will be his world."
"Stay here and rot, coward," said Harry. "I don't care what you think. I don't care what you want. It's time for it to end." He turned and walked off toward the master bedroom, leaving Severus speechless with rage.
Remus woke with a start. The dark of evening had just barely touched the sky; he could see the orange blush of sunset.
Walking out of the guest bedroom, he noticed a light on; Severus was in the pink bedroom again.
Neville lay at his feet, a pillow obscuring his face.
"I had to," said Severus bitterly.
"Someone had to," said Remus, his heart frozen in his chest, his head filled with sorrow.
"It's always me," said Severus softly; the words seemed to burn him as they flew out of his mouth. "Again and again."
"You don't think Harry will win, do you." He swallowed, cold dread in the pit of his stomach.
Severus shook his head. "The Dark Lord..."
"What will you do?"
"Return to him." Severus looked broken. His eyes glistened in the pink glow of the room.
"Harry, you do have a choice," said Remus helplessly.
"Yes, I know." Harry had changed shirts. His wand poked out of the pocket of his jeans.
"Please reconsider. He's too powerful."
"He has to die. For Ron. For Hermione." His eyes blazed with retribution.
"I know, but there are other ways to do this." Fear rose within him, stark and freezing.
"You didn't see her," said Harry, his voice quaking. "You didn't see what they did to her."
"We've all lost—"
"You don't know!" shouted Harry. "I'm going to make him suffer for every curse. I'm going to make him swallow all of the pain he's caused, five times over."
"This isn't...Harry, this isn't how Dumbledore—"
"Dumbledore knew," said Harry, his eyes bright. "He knew what I would have to be. A murderer. I know what I have to do, Remus."
"It isn't set in stone," cried Remus. "You don't have to choose this path."
"Goodbye, Remus."
The door slammed. Remus let out a howl of anguish and fright.
Severus was next to him, and Remus turned to him, wrapped his arms around him, needing someone, something warm, something living, something to take away the cold fear that clutched at him.
Severus didn't return the embrace, but didn't pull away, either.
For a long moment Remus clung to him, anchoring himself with the heat in his arms, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"I tripped," Severus whispered in his ear.
"What?" said Remus, drawing back to look at him.
"At the battle."
Remus stared at him, uncomprehending.
The look on Severus's face was inscrutable. "I aimed the Killing Curse at Moody, but I tripped, and it struck Bellatrix instead."