Theoselwyn​:

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!”

asphodelroot​:

Sausage rolls and fries were not enough to forestall the shocked look of betrayal she gave him. That had been her cherry! She needed those cherries—did he have any idea what sort of battle she had endured to secure them? Of course not, because Lily hadn’t told him. And she usually didn’t make more than a token fuss about food theft; Severus always needed more feeding, and if it required letting him feel like he was getting away with something via theft for it to happen, so be it.

Her cherries had never been intended to fall victim to that policy, but after a moment of hurt scowling, Lily let it go and focused on savouring the sole cherry left for her, tucked in the corner of her mouth. She didn’t have many close friends to start, and was on the wrong side of the majority of them; no matter how sacred her cherry had been, she wasn’t going to lose Severus over it. Not tonight.        (Never again.)

Finally swallowing her cherry, she fished out a bit of ice to munch on instead. “We came together. He’s definitely got some bugbears behind the ears tonight,” she shared. “Snappish, grumpy, probably should have stayed home but even more bullheaded and stubborn than usual. I told him to avoid alcohol tonight—no idea if he’ll actually listen to that bit of advice.” Despite that grim debrief, Lily was willing to call tonight not a disaster thus far. Nothing broken, no one thrown across the room. Far from the bloodbath Lily hadn’t been expecting but hadn’t ruled out as a possibility. “Will you be tweaking the brew again, for tomorrow night? Maybe some hawthorn bark to help him stay calm.”

Severus blinked at her scowling for a few moments after she let it go, then pushed the plate of sausage rolls closer to her. He’d clearly misread the room. She was more upset than he realized.

‘ He’s always agitated before the full moon, ’ Severus said again, this time reassuringly. ‘ You should’ve seen him last month. Absolutely insufferable — still no violent outbursts. With me trying. He can keep it together for a few more hours. ’ Or else he wouldn’t have come at all tonight … hopefully. Severus was banking on the assumption that at least one of the four buffoons of his childhood had enough sense to stay home when they needed to. Especially if said buffoon had been dealing with the same pre-moon mood swings for as long as they could remember.

Which was, put like that, a rather tall order.

He looked at Black again, then said to Lily with a straight face: ‘ I could keep Black occupied for the rest of the night if you’d prefer. ’ He and Black going at each other would at least not be shocking. They’ve been practically exchanging friendship bracelets the last few months, it would just be setting the world back to rights, if nothing else.

He hummed. ‘ The problem’s not keeping him calm, it’s keeping him present. Mentally. I’ve modified the brew to keep him aware and in control through the eclipse. The calm will come with that. ’ He paused, casting his mind back to the multitudes of equations and ideas he went through to get to a result worth testing. ‘ It should work. ’ But they don’t know that. They won’t until they test it.

helloxhestia​:

Hestia’s eyes became slightly glazed when Severus said the name. But, no, not from fear. That name, over the past six years, had slowly developed a Pavlovian response in her. The words “Bellatrix Black” meant it was time to go to work.

But, his next words reminded her there was a real reason to be afraid. Liverpool.

Gideon.

Hestia instinctively looked at Moody with a pointed expression at the mention of Liverpool, and knew exactly why she’d been called so urgently. 

How could she have been so reckless? To finally get what you want, only to wish you’d never asked for it. If he had to face down Bellatrix on his first mission back, he might never go back on the field again.

She didn’t want to give Black any power over her and her teammates, but data was data, and Black’s track record spoke for itself.

Perhaps in response to Hestia’s look at Moody, Severus told her he’d already agreed. She nodded solemnly at this, and returned her attention to Severus.

Then, she heard their action plan.

She’d considered taking Gideon out of the field all together, but perhaps this could be a good compromise, sending Severus out with them, without wounding Gideon too deeply. They did believe in him, of course, no one did more than her, but… 

…it was Bellatrix.

As a response, Hestia opened her mouth slightly as though to ask “are you sure?” but remembered who she was talking to. If the past eight months of working with them had taught her anything, if Severus was unable to do something, they would have told her.

She looked them in the eye and almost imperceptibly nodded before turning back to Moody.

“I sanction it. Now, who’s going to talk to Prewett?”

madeyed-andmoody​:

Like Hestia, hearing the name ‘Bellatrix Black’ had instilled a visceral reaction in Alastor, one thay was neither shirked, nor ignored. Yes, he was shocked, but he also wasn’t. In some part of his mind, Moody had prepared for the inevitably of Bellatrix of another of the higher ranking Death Eaters to appear, though not, perhaps, for this mission.

He could feel Hestia’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he refused to look at her, just then. Alastor leaned forward, hands braced on the table top, and listened as Severus recollected the past few moments. Hestia and Alastor both knew who they were speaking about, and their fears were staring them in the face.

However, Moody had told Gideon just yesterday morning that his involvement in these missions was his choice, that they would support him. The very real terror of Gideon freezing on the field – of Emmeline or Marlene or James, too, but certainly Gideon, now, with the…change in their relationship – was one that set his heart tripping over itself in his chest. And this, he thought, was why he had refused for so long to care.

(“But that wasn’t the truth, now, was it” the voice in his head hissed. “What of James? Of Gwendolyn and Lily, Severus, the Longbottoms? You care for them all, Moody. Do not lie to yourself.”)

Hestia sanctioned Severus’s joining Gideon’s team, and Alastor let out a breath, nodding his head. He still had not looked at Hestia, though he did now. Alastor did not need to check with Severus. He knew they could take care of themself.

“I will. He asked to come run something by me before the mission earlier. Sent me a message earlier at the office.” Alastor’s voice did not waver, nor did his gaze. “Gideon will be told of Severus’s move to thos team, and of the report. I will allow him to decide what his choice will be.”

If Gideon chose to stay, Alastor knew, at the very least, that Severus would be a deadly, efficient ally.

Severus looked at both their companions for a moment. Tomorrow loomed heavy before them all, but they felt confident in their ability to meet it head on. They were as prepared as they could be. They were devoted to the mission. There was nothing more they could do now.

Severus gave them each a brisk nod. ‘ I’ll see you both in the morning, ’ they said. They turned around and strode out the door. They had a lot of preparation to do.

END.

asphodelroot​:

Lily’s first stop after the first time she’d lost Remus in the two seconds she’d turned her back on him had been the bar, where she’d spent a frustrating ten minutes talking the bartender through making a Shirley Temple—okay maybe four of those had been spent convincing them she really did need four cherries; grenadine and ginger ale wasn’t a hard concept for anyone to grasp. The name seemed to be the main sticking point, because the ‘Cherry-Bomb Fizz’ the bartender had presented her with a flourish seemed no different from what little Shirley would sip on at all those fancy Hollywood parties. Save for perhaps the excessive amount of cherries.

Drink acquired and first cherry quickly dispatched, the second stop on Lily’s limited itinerary was this now habitual table, out of the way and with an excellent view of main room. The second cherry hadn’t survived long, and the third was tucked behind her teeth as she scoffed. “I don’t make bets against my own interests,” she said. Not to mention ones she was pretty sure had the odds severely stacked against her. “As long as it’s not Sirius, we’ll all survive.” They never needed a reenactment of that fight, but they especially didn’t need one on this particular night, with Remus ready to rip into anyone and everyone at the drop of the hat. Looking sidelong at her friend, Lily had no humor to her as she added, “Don’t encourage it.”

Severus plopped the last cherry into his mouth before it met its fast approaching demise. ‘ Hmm, doesn't that sound like a lie, ’ he said aloud, and pushed his plate of sausage rolls and fries between them to head off protests regarding his ill-concealed theft. He could think of a few occasions where Lily made bets directly against her own interests, with predictable consequences. But like the good friend he was he kept the details to himself.

Severus hummed, eyes flickered down the other side of the room to where Black was. Severus always knew where the other one was if they were in the same room. Old habits die hard, and six years of distance clearly weren’t enough to dull his caution. For good reason. He looked back at Lily and lifted both hands up in mock surrender. ‘ Alright, alright, I’ll resist. ’ He would try. The little part of him that urged to poke the hungry bear stomped about in protest. He brushed it aside. His tone turned serious. ‘ Did you talk to Lupin? What was he like? ’ It wasn’t a regular full moon coming up. They were all concerned for a repeat of last May, even with the adjustments Severus made to the Wolfsbane. ‘ He’s always agitated before a full moon. ’

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.

madeyed-andmoody​:

The Goyle estate wards were so easy a toddler could have done them. However, that was not why Alastor had brought Severus Snape with him. No, he’d brought him along because, despite Dumbledore’s assertion that Moody just trust the younger man, Snape still needed to be proven in the field. Thus far, they’d been trustworthy. Thus far, their information had been sound.

Yet something still nagged at the back of Alastor’s mind. It may have something to do with the fact Severus had tried prodding at it every chance they could get. Or, perhaps, the flippancy with which they handled curses and other dark magics - where it was a necessary curiosity for Alastor, one he’d indulged in to learn, Severus’s fascination lay far deeper.

Moody had known Severus would be able to get them the document they’d need from the Goyle estate. He also had his suspicions surrounding the estate and the missing Order members. At the very least, he figured Severus would have an idea.

Without a portkey, Moody and Snape were forced to trudge through the dark and, quite frankly, disturbing woodland. They’d been out for a long while, though the Order knew where they were headed. Both wix were clearly tired, though neither had admitted to the bodily weakness of tiredness. Not in front of the other. And, finally, they had reached the border, the clearing his would allow them to leave just ahead when –

A twig snapped. It wasn’t him, or Snape.

Alastor hunched his shoulders, grabbed fistfuls of Snape’s robes, and tossed him as far as he could - safely, it seemed, behind a broken section of an old arch. Not far enough yet, he noticed as he turned, planting his feet with a snarl, but getting there.

A curse came hurtling toward him from the shadows ahead and Alastor sidestepped neatly, tossing up a protego wide enough to span the opening he was protecting, fishing out his wand as he did. “Snape,” he barked, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Break anything? If not, find us a way out! Now!”

The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.

A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.

He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair's breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.

‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.

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.”

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​

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? ’