Dark Remus.

[harahel]

Several times in disscussing the many men of Hogwart's, someone has said to me "Well, I don't know anyone who doesn't like Remus." I never cared for him one way or another, but this stuanch opinion of Lupin's goodness turned some cogs in my head.

Bells in the Night
R, for violence.
A visit from Severus turns up buried truths and reveals bloody hands.



He stirred from bed without the slightest idea of what had woken him. A breeze stirred the silver leaves outside his window and the Bell Tree tinkled in delight. During the day, the pleasant laughing of the tinkling leaves was joyous, but in the dark of the night it stirred up images of Will o’ Wisps dancing on the breeze and leading men to their deaths.

Remus cursed himself for dark thoughts and turned away from the window to return to sleep. The world was quiet again and he would have dozed off had the scratching not begun again. For it was again, obviously this was what had woken him. A deliberate, loud scratching at one door. The door to his office, not to the hallway or the bathroom. Only students and other professors came to him through the office. His other late night visitors preferred back doors and sealed corridors.

Sweeping up a thick robed, tying it off briskly, he opened the door. A sleek black cat with dark brown eyes gazed sulkily up at him. He stared down at it in incomprehension.

“Do I know you?” He inquired. The cat blinked once, slowly, before standing up and walking into his rooms. It jumped into one high backed chair, before taking on human form.

Severus Snape was the last man that Remus had ever expected of having an Animagi form, especially one so closely related to Minvera’s. Was the man even registered? He somehow doubted it. It would be just like the Slytherin to condemn others for what he himself did with impunity.

“Lupin.”

“Snape.”

“I have tried to get you alone several times in these long weeks since you have resumed teaching.”

“ I have gone out of my way to avoid such a meeting.”

Remus filled in for him, settling into the other chair in his bedchamber. If Sirius had still been around, he would have teased Remus about the formality of having chairs in his bedroom. Obviously, Sirius had never had the type of visitors that Remus was obligated to host in his sleeping quarters. Sirius. He bit back a bitter sigh. Lost twice now. And he wasn't sure if it was better or worse that it was to death this time. He missed that rare scent of him in the air, the edge of dog a tease to werewolf senses. Almost like family.

“I can see why you would.”

In the shadows, Severus seemed very at home. He even looked better, the darkness draping his face into pale solidity instead of the fractious wrinkling that was aging him before his time. Even the dark,
Remus could see the subtle shaking in the other man's hands. The curse that had him in the war must be a constant torment for the man, who now required several students assistants in his lab for even the smallest of things. It was hard for Remus not to see it as poetic justice even this long after he realized that Severus was no sort of evil, only a day to day sort of annoyance.

“Yes, well. We haven't always been the best of terms and now that the war is ov…”

“I wanted to warn you, Remus.”

And the name, to use first name clenched something deep in Remus’ chest.

“Oh? He asked mildly.” He wished he was fully dressed, suddenly. The robe revealed his legs, part of his chest, made him far too vulnerable. “ Everyone knows I'm a werewolf, now. I even have the papers of a full magical citizen. What is it that you think you have on me, Severus? Or are you using some shyster's trick to get me to admit to something?”

“ I came to warn you.” Was the solemn return. “Because I have uncovered what you strove to keep silent all these years. I will tell no one. I only wanted to alert you because if I have figured it out, someone else will eventually. And that would implicate quite a few people.”

“I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Then let me refresh your memory. There is a scene that I will never forget.” Severus slipped farther into shadow, he became little more then a voice and the pale movement of lips. “Here I see a verdant field. I stand behind a young man, just growing into his powers. He stands straight, his eyes are fierce and at his feet is a bloody corpse. He turns to me, slowly, still in shock. I know he is about to cry out to me in victory. He will rush into my arms and I will sweep him home to crowds that will heap him with the praise he finally deserves. This young man has become like a son to me. I am so proud of him in this moment that I will smile at him for the first time in many long months. Then just as suddenly, I see him crumple. A killing curse that has come from the ranks of the enemy. The enemy we thought vanquished. He never gets up again.”

“I was there the day Harry died, Severus. I remember.”

“What about a year later?” Now Severus shifted forward, his dark hair keeping his face hidden, but bringing his cruel nose into sharp relief. “I am at home. In the next room is a young man who was instrumental in bringing down the enemy. He was another of Dumbledore’s second hand spies Carved from a softer stone then our young hero, this one did what he could and when he was found out, bloody and broken, I was allowed to take him home. I was allowed to keep him. My blond beautiful…” He hesitated, searching for the swift monotone he had been effortlessly been employing until this point. “ I walk into the kitchen because I hear him cry out. He is slumped on the floor, the trace of the stew he was making held a poison that is effect only on those with Veela blood. I checked all my pots and dishes. They were all of them practically soaked in the stuff.”

“Why do you repeat these horrible stories to me, Severs? Draco’s death was a terrible assassination…”

“I began to wonder.” The dark man interrupted again, he spoke softer now, gentler. “I remembered things. Slowly. Why, just when Black broke out of prison did you come out of exile? Why that year? Why hire a string of incompetents if you had been available all along?”

“Albus…”

“And I thought about the aim of a killing curse and how a very clever defense artist can make it appear to come from any where. I remembered that wards, no matter how well constructed can always be circumnavigated by anyone with enough cleverness. Anyone who was…properly trained. Poison can be made…Do you know of the Assassins, Remus?”

“That fairy tale for children? You know as well as I do Severus that it is mostly Aurors who carry out the dreadful deeds we attributed to those legends.” Had the other man lost his mind? It was certainly possible that time and loss had addled the once sharp, if contentious, potions master.

“It never behooves a wizard to take anything at face value. What was once real is now legend and what was once legend can come out to play in the dark with all that is fact.” He glanced up to the tinkle of the Bell Tree and Remus was sure he saw a quiver spread from those talented hands to pale arms, but perhaps it was only a trick of the light.

“What are you trying to say Severus?”

“ I have a theory. One that I cannot possibly expect anyone else to believe.” He shifted again, the white of the moonlight falling again to highlight glittering eyes, black in a filed of white. “I often wondered where you were in those intervening years, what sad hole you had crawled into after the Potter's death and Black's arrest. It pleased me to think that you were working in some Muggle institution or even quite destitute. I am a very petty man.”

“No argument there.” Remus muttered, growing steadily more uneasy. His wand, as ever, was at his side, but he had no doubt that Severus had his just as readily available. Of course, with his shaking hands it was doubtful he could still draw it from his robes quickly.

“But once I got past my own anger, I had to wonder. You are a bright man, far smarter then Potter or Black ever were. It is infinitely possible that you could have gotten quite a profitable job somewhere else in the world. Somewhere where the laws about dark creatures weren't quite so stiff. Perhaps, even somewhere that turning into a monster every so often was a desirable trait. Did you ever wonder why I ruined your cover here the first time you taught?”

“I chalked it up to you petty nature.” He hissed through clenched teeth. It was late and his usual infinite gentle patience was wearing thin.

“At the time, I had recovered a text that I had been looking for that had long been lost in my personal library. It was a memoir of a man who lived among a wild werewolf pack for the greater part of his life, finally being bitten when he begged for it near death. The whole thing is rather entertaining and has a grave attention to detail. The one thing the man kept hammering home was that even in their human form at the farthest away from the moon, the werewolves did not seem to see him the way they saw each other. Among the pack they loved, had children, tended to them with gentleness and had fair, binding laws judged by a jury of peers.

“But in their laws, truly in their eyes, even among the closest of his friends among them, he was less. Not at all equal to Pack. When he was finally bitten, he wrote only for a few more days and claimed that he could no longer recognize many of the emotions he had discussed earlier in the journal. He felt an almost complete dispassion to events that had happened mere days ago.”

“Fascinating. What does this have to do with you getting me expelled?” He regretted almost instantly the growl he let into his voice then. It almost proved Severus’ point for him.

“I think you know. Werewolves do not see humans as equal to themselves. They think themselves more highly evolved and all to often, more highly evolved species kill and eat the stupider, weaker ones.”

“You're being ridiculous.” The tightness in his chest eased. Surely this was just Severus ranting as usual, he had no idea what he was speaking of, flailing out in all directions, desperate for blood. Not crazy, but careworn and aching for a battle. “That may be so for wild wolves, but I was born a human being and I remain one, for all that I am out of control for four days or so a month. It is meaningless.”

“Is it? Or what if when bitten, instinct without Pack to guide it took over? Maybe, you adjusted because you were a child and your world view was malleable. It would be easy for such a young child to misunderstand what it was feeling, take on several friends and use them almost like a Pack. It would have been helped by Black's transformations. A dog is close enough to wolf that it would have soothed some unknown desire. But when you thought he had betrayed you? When the rest of your Pack was dead?”

“They were my brothers. If you came here only to speak ill of the dead…” He was reaching for his wand. Severus was as good a wizard as he, if not better, but Remus was prepared to catch him off guard if necessary.

“I came here to defend them!” Now Severus was on his feet, striding briskly across the room, unfaltering across the uneven floor. Damn the man for his night vision. When had Severus become so completely creature of the night? Surely as a child he had dashed among the fields of sun and…Remus pulled himself abruptly back. Severus was still ranting on.

“I did not know where you had gone those long years between Black's imprisonment and your return here. Imagine my surprise when I had the thought that you had not been laying somewhere in a ditch as I had fondly hoped. What if you had actually taken the time to better yourself? Gotten some type of schooling? What if Albus had helped you do that?”

“I assure you that Albus did not…”

“Oh, I'm sure he didn't support the decision outright. How could he, not knowing if the people you sought could even be found? They would mostly take in very young children, who had already showed a propensity towards violence and a distinct lack of compassion. Adults who sought them might make good first trials for such youngsters. Yet, what if the person who came to them offered something new? A beast that lurked in their breast, enhancing natural senses even when the moon had ebbed. What if this person were angry, embittered towards the fragile loyalty of a humanity they had always instinctually saw as prey anyway?”

Remus was silent now, watching the pendulum movements of the potions master. The flow of words had obviously been building for a long time. Might as well let the other man release it all.

“Albus would have kept in contact during those long years of training, would have even created an alliance with this most secret of societies as distasteful as he found it. When the new assassin emerged, Albus would be ready with any number of jobs. Black breaking out of prison was the first time he needed you for your past and your present. It could not be known that Sirius would turn out innocent and that the assassin would let down ingrained guards to take back the only member of its pack still worth having.

“At the time, I was only afraid of you for that reputation of kindness and warmth that most thought so charming. I saw it as the same feeling some shepherds have for the sheep that they walk among only to later slay at will. Now I know that a far graver reason was weighing the back of my mind.” A deep sucking breath and a short expulsion as he reached his climax. “It was you who killed the son of my heart and my lover. You, werewolf assassin with your gentle tender ways have walked among us on tiptoes. Everyone loves Remus Lupin, who always appears so frail after moon changes, who so rarely complains or appears arrogant. How much of it is really an act I wonder? And how much of it do you believe?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

There was the briefest of pauses. Severus dipped his head in a nod.

“Ask me on any given day and I will give you a different answer. My humanity has always been a slippery thing. I feel more connected to children, perhaps because I was actually was one once. Adults are harder to deal with, more obviously Other. Most are weak, unobservant…why do you come to me and tell me these things, Severus? Why reveal what you have guessed?”

Swiftly, he took all the person out of his voice and let the wolf slide in, all dark, sharp tooth purrs. The frail human body he inhabited took on a glow of power and health. The full moon was far away, leaving him with all his innate, unseen strength. It poured through his skin, made him very noticeably other. He liked to think that the increased shiver in the potions master was from fear. With Severus it was difficult to tell, most likely it was only his cursed limbs spasming.

“To warn you.” Already, the flare of translucent ice that signaled personal shields around the potions master had been increased. “That you can be discovered. I wanted to show you that as much as we are prey to you, we are not so simple minded as a deer caught in a witch light.”

“How long have you known?”

“I guessed when Harry died, I knew when Draco did.”

“Why wait so long then? Why not tell the world?”

“I could tell no one, for who would believe me? Even as a war hero, I have little credibility among my colleagues and students. A spy never does. I tell you now because I know I am next. Three times already you have tried and failed to kill me. Each I was either very lucky or you gravely underestimated me. You did not truly think that after Draco’s death I would not take to checking every bit of cutlery that came my way?”

“I was hoping you would become careless.”

“ I am many things but careless isn't one of them. I thought that you might have known that I knew and were simply playing with me, but I can see now that you did not suspect.”

“ I do not play with my food. I am no cat to scare the mouse to its death.”

“Honor among even assassins.”

“We call ourselves Death Eaters. We have for long before Tom Riddle figured out that he could do more with his wand then float feathers. More of us are dark creatures then you would guess.
Incubus and succubus, vampires, dybbuks and jinn. We don't discriminate.”

They were locked now, Severus standing at the foot of the bed, the silver leaves of the Bell tree ringing out their mournful night song and adding silver highlights to the tar black hair that would now never see that color come to it naturally.

“I've come then, for you to eat my death. You took Harry under Albus’ orders because already he was showing the promise of a young dark lord. I saw it in him too, knew that given time, I could have salvaged him for our side. But he was too much of a loose cannon. To easily martyred and surely then much more easy to manipulate. My Draco…I took longer to understand why. Him, you killed for his knowledge. He had secrets in his head, secrets about things Albus had ordered done before and those things that he planned on becoming. He too had to fall and his death went nearly unremarked “

“You're close enough.”

Why tell him, even now, that Draco’s death had been more for sport then anything else? Harry's death was planned, carefully executed. But the slender blond would probably never have used his knowledge, he was far too grateful to be left alive. Still a loose end was a loose end and Remus never liked memory spells. They weren't nearly as effective or elegant as a well planned kill. His orders had only been neaten up all those things left scattered. It was in his purview about what was to be done. And frankly, what did Albus think he had hired when had given him such powers?

It had been a delicate move, killing Draco. He had known that it would make Severus into a loose end where he was previously no danger at all. The dark haired man had been systematically stripped of all those that he held dear: Lucius, his much distanced but beloved cousin, Riddle, first his lover and then his master. Then the unexpected joy of Harry's acceptance that had kept him aloft during the long years of war which was yanked from him in the very moment of triumph. And pretty little Draco, who had conned his way into bed with his own Professor, only to find he wanted to remain there. Remus was proud of killing him mere feet away from the spot where Severus labored over his exams, making pithy red comments on crisp parchment. A lovely mirror image of ink on paper to blood on clean stone floors. Remus was willing to bet that the Veela blood, so viscous and poison tainted, had been hard to spell clean off stone.

“So kill me. I don't care how. I am sick to death of living anyway. I am too old to play a game of cat and mouse. Or wolf and deer, whatever you prefer. You've killed me anyway. Peeled away my life, one love at a time.” He paused and Remus was somewhat disappointed by how steady his voice had held through all this, how clear eyed Severus was in the dark. How at home he was pleading for his demise. “Torture me if it will help. I promise I will scream and writhe and plead for mercy. I will, the brain in its dying gaps will do just about anything for preservation. “

This wasn't how the scene had played in his head. Severus was supposed to come to him with a knife in hand or wand poised with a killing curse on his lips. Idly, Remus realized suddenly, he had planned that it would be him pleading for death this night. Had he really come to hate life so much that he had set up this whole scene so Severus would murder him? Could it be that he, all unknowingly, set up his own murder only to be asked to assist in what amounted to a suicide?

“Do it, damn you.” Severus hissed. “ I swear to you that if you leave me alive, I will find a way to make you pay. I will tell the whole world what you have done and even if none believe me, it will plant the seeds of doubt. All who have come to trust and love you will start to see the looks you so carefully hide, the drool when too much human flesh is revealed to you. Enough that your own people will want to see you dead. A death at the hands of assassins betrayed, even for the man with no will to live left would be frightening.”

“I don't want to kill you.” He admitted, reluctantly. “I thought you were prey, but I can see now that you are a fellow predator. We shouldn't have anything to do with each other. Such a mix is dangerous to all those who come between.”

“Fighting like cats and dogs?” The ironic drawl was almost enough to cut some of the tension. Almost.

“Something like that.”

Silence reigned briefly as Severus moved over to the window and stared out over the Quidditch filed with a distinct look of remorse on his face.

“It hasn't always been a good life, but neither has it been an unending darkness.”

“Do not go gentle into that good night.” He recited, allowing the gentle school teacher return to the cold of his voice.

“Old age should burn and rave at close of day: Rage, rage, against the dying of light." Another soft, passing shudder. It occurred to Remus that Severus had done his share of raving tonight. Perhaps, that had been his death keen. "No, you've drained me of my rage, of my sorrow as well as my passions and love. Do me this last courtesy. One beast to another.”

There was no hesitation. With a swiftness born of unexpected tenderness, Remus swept up the taller man in his arms and in a protective embrace, tore greedily into the flesh of his neck. A werewolf's canines were unnaturally sharp, even in the most human of moments. It was an easy tear and the flesh satisfying in his belly, blood warm in his mouth.

Settling the potion master on the floor, he had a full meal of it, satisfying in a way a pudding could never be. It was only as he was wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of one sleeve that he felt even the slightest tingle in his stomach.

A master of potions could ensure a perfect time delay of anything he created, Remus remembered vaguely as he tried to induce vomiting. It was far too late for that sort of thing of course. The silver laced liquid burned rapidly into his veins, dissolving his flesh, his bone, leaving only his brain railing in dying agonies for long silent minutes.

Outside, the wind blew again, ringing out the silver leaves. The dawn would come swiftly and the two bodies, still wrapped together like blood streaked lovers would mark the beginning of a new age. The past was firmly dead and all the ghosts of the living were gone safely to rest.

Headmaster Dumbledore mourned lavishly in public. The two men had no surviving relatives and few friends left. Their funerals were small, a week apart. He smiled in private, crossing the last two names off a long list and delicately licked his lips. Fawke’s squawked in the corner. Cats and dogs that squabble among each other over their prey, so often forgot that the lives they lived on were not magically whisked away. Corpses as ever were cleaned by the birds, the carrion eaters. They were the true Death Eaters. It was they who saw to the tidy end of all things.

A sprig of Bells sat in vase on his desk. They made no noise here in the confines of his office, but the delicate leaves were touched with pin sized drops of blood. Gently, he blew across them, setting a delicate chime into the air.