@undxraviolxtmoon-archive / undxraviolxtmoon-archive.tumblr.com
Lily,
I haven’t had time to sit down since I’ve arrived at Hogwarts. The students all seem so small- aside from those in the higher years, obviously. Lesson planning isn’t easy, and it’s harder since- well. You know. I still can’t talk about him. And I’m glad of all the bustle to keep my mind off of it. I miss you. Hoping you are well.
Sev.
it seemed to remus that he had no control of himself, he felt a tremendous distance between himself and everything real. it was the only thing he could feel outside of the pain. he wasn’t sure when he had woken up, or if he had woken up. blurred figures bustled, flitting around him in their dizzying attempt to stabilise what remained of him. he should’ve been somewhat glad he didn’t have a grasp on his life, otherwise it would’ve gladly slipped between his fingers. he wanted to scream, to let all of them know how much pain he was in so they’d stop constantly asking. instead, his body settled for a some-what arched back as even breathing became painful, adrenaline finally wearing away. He wasn’t rescued, he was found. while he should’ve been grateful, it stung him. it meant the voice behind the mask was right, they truly didn’t want him. his mind ached, the rhythmic pounding louder and harder with every thought that crossed his mind.
his world remained a blur as he emerged from the pained stupor, the haze left after paints come into contact with water. he could tell the blur growing larger in his vision was there for him. it was evident in the hesitation at the doorway, the air of gratefulness it exuded when a lighter blur (presumably a nurse) held it back to talk. undecided on whether he wanted anyone there, he waited. the unruly gaggle of nurses seemed to have decreased, only to be replaced with noises of a bursting hallway. every part of his anatomy demanded to be known, screaming their pain in unison. conflicted is the only word that could have been used to describe remus at that point. the whole time he was strung up in that room he just wanted someone to show up, to prove his captor wrong. but now someone finally had, and he was scared. his heart rate picked up significantly as the nurse-like blur decided to do all it’s medical hovering from just outside the door, leaving just remus and the blur in the room.
“Come on, Annabella, you know me better than that- no, I just- listen, I need to know, okay? Fine. Okay. I won’t give him the potion even though you know better...what do you mean he’s been tortured?” The seizing of his heart amplified and moved upward to his throat as he looked at his old colleague and fought the urge to run straight to his lover’s side. She placed a hand on his arm in the traditional comforting manner- like she was about tell him how to handle this. He knew what to do, and yanked himself away from her to approach the bed.
With every step his vision blurred, until he was looking down at a face he could barely recognize. He didn’t even want to think about what lie beneath the sheets that covered him. A hand pressed against his lips to stifle the sob threatening to break him; knees going weak. Luckily, Annabella knew what would happen and had charmed a chair to rest behind him just as he went down. Severus reached forward to brush a bit of Remus’s hair away from his forehead, careful not to touch anything that might make him hurt.
“Remus,” he whispered, just as the door shut behind them a few feet away. “Who did this to you?”
There was little other choice for her other than to steal into the night, away from prying eyes after the gala and the morbid accusations Evan had made, she likely shouldn’t have at all. The last thing she’d needed was for anyone to doubt her loyalty to the cause of death eaters after everything she’d done to completely upturn her life simply because she was told to. The late hours didn’t dissuade her at all, one way or another she’d get into see him, though she supposed the moment they saw the co-mistress coming, little in the way of objection could be found on the lips of every nurse she passed or spoke to. Lingering outside the room for a moment or two, she wondered how much of this was truly worth it, how much catering her own feelings to the single friendship she’d had that had withstood most things in their lives was worth throwing away her loyalty and beliefs, but nothing ever changed, and while most left, judged or broke her fucking heart, he’d never even tried. The voice from inside wasn’t at all that of her closest friends, but it was familiar nonetheless. Pushing gently on the door, she stepped quietly inside, the heel of her shoes already spelled to silence, “Sev? — I didn’t think anyone would be here.” And though she knew little of Remus and his friend, she knew enough.
At the sound of Lucinda he stilled, settling back into the chair. Years before when they’d begun this little venture, Severus and Remus had promised each other that no one would ever know. And it was mostly to avoid the fallout that might have happened on both sides. And they wanted to protect what they had together. Not everyone needed to know that they were so completely intertwined- and now he couldn’t hide it, could he? Only someone so inherently close would be at the bedside of a potentially dying man. He swallowed roughly, trying to find an excuse- even a flimsy reason was better than nothing but all he found was silence.
Palms pressed to the arms of the overly plush chair, fingers digging in as he watched her in the spilling light from the hallway. “I-..” his voice was nothing but a whisper in the quiet room, head bowing low for a moment. He wasn’t ashamed of this, how could he be? In all of his years, Remus had been one of the only people he could find peace in. And now, he barely resembled himself. “I don’t know what happened to him, Lucinda.” And it cracked with the weight of that confession. He wished he did. Wished he knew so that he could find somewhere to release this steadily building anger and grief on. Before the hands of his depression threatened to pull him under. “I can’t-I can’t help him.”
Romeo and Juliet lay open on the hospital bed, Severus sat quietly with his elbows braced on either side, hands clasped near his forehead as if in prayer. His eyes were closed tightly, shoulders shaking gently from a mixture of fear and anger at what had been done to the man he loved more than himself, more than anything. He’d gotten through the first act of the play before he couldn’t talk anymore- not reading, anyway. Dried streaks on his cheeks gave a bit of background as to what the past four hours had been like. He’d cried silently, unable to stop the salty water from leaking out of his eyes, but he refused to let Remus hear it.
Visiting hours had long since ended; but with his past history as a nurse here, they didn’t ask him to leave. After all, he’d volunteered to help as the bodies had poured in from the bonfire attack, why would they deny him this? It came as a surprise that no one had inquired as to why he’d wanted to stay behind and sit with Lupin- and for that he was grateful. As the darkness of the room broke by the light of the hall outside, he lifted his gaze quickly, nearly shooting up from the chair in defense. All of his nerve endings were on fire, ready for the tormentor to show up and reclaim what he’d dropped on the side of the road. “Who’s there?”
The appearance of an old friend wasn’t a disliked one, but it was a slight inconvenience for Barty. He wasn’t sure what Snape was up too, but the man had the tinge and swing of a drunk, “Not one to get pissed in public settings.” He said as he sipped his tea, a smile of playfulness on his lips. He let the warm liquid slip down his throat. Soft reddish hair sitting along his brow as he glanced over the room quickly once more for cover before looking back to his cup and new companion.
“I have been hiding…well here I suppose. I haven’t had much going on and I only go home to sleep. So a lot of pub time and work.” He said making a slight eyeroll at the word work. His cover work he did for his biological sperm providing piece of shit of a father was not by any means his actual work. A fact few knew, but it wasn’t exactly secret to Snape that he hated his job either way. He wrapped his hands around the cup, “Just trying to keep myself busy. I won’t be young forever and it isn’t as if I have a lass or lad to hang off my arm and I don’t have any sort of commitments that are pressing, so here I am I guess.”
Barty wasn’t sure what to make of this entire situation, it could very well be that Snape was here for a reason and he wasn’t just randomly dropping in slightly inebriated. Barty kept his eyes and ears open, monitoring the room effectively. He had been taught both by Lord Voldemort and Crouch Sr. You must always be aware of the room and the emotional status of it, you need to predict what people are going to do based on body movement. He had the hardest time juggling that with also focusing on the person in front of him, it took a lot of mind power, hence the not drinking, “So what brings you out tonight Snapey-Doo?”
Severus couldn’t deny that the first quip felt like a stab rather than a statement. Did Barty assume he was drunk? It seemed so, but he’d let him think whatever he liked. Severus had come out with no other intention than to have a drink and feel less suffocated, less worried about the state of his rapidly declining mother, and the happy coincidence that he happened upon Barty. “Mmm, getting a lass or lad shouldn’t be that hard for you Barty. You’re charming enough.”
The betrayer knew of Barty’s trouble in the love department, however, so he’d never been one to press him to pursue any potential suitors. It was ultimately his decision to make. He shifted to get more comfortable, fingers tapping lightly on the wood out of habit. Fresh bandages were wrapped around his middle and index fingers from a mishap with an earlier potion ingredient. Stabbed himself with the spines on accident. He barely felt it anymore.
His face scrunched at the nick-name, brows furrowing down. “Never call me that again. And nothing, really. I just needed to get away from the stench of dragon dung and simmering potions. Usual, really. Got a neck-ache from staring at a book all day. What day is it, anyway?” He often lost track of time. As the pint was set down in front of him, he thanked the woman and offered up the payment necessary, hand gripping the handle moments later. “You should consider a different job if you hate it that much, Barty.”
“His father got floated for stealing medicine to save him. Who knew he had it in him?”
“I did.”
“You are afraid of an empty ship. You should be more worried about what’s waiting for us on the ground.”
“Nothing worth anything to us.” But there’d been talk within the ministry walls, at the very least, but Rabastan had hardly paid too much mind to rumor as of late, too caught up in the suddenly real factor of his brother being alive. He’d wonder briefly who within the room knew, but even that too wittled to nothing. Tired of waiting – tired of sitting still, the mess they’d created at the wedding hadn’t been quite enough to sate the desperate need to inflict pain that had so readily settled on his chest for years now. He lent back in his chair, barely looking beyond the mask as he spoke to Severus, already much too accustomed to his friend beneath it. “There’s rumor they’d infiltrated the ministry, but we’re no closer to finding out who they are – there was another attack, about a week ago, apparently they left nothing behind though.”
It didn’t surprise him that the hunters were getting braver. Their first attack had been successful enough for them it seemed, and it was harder now to focus on who was really the enemy in all of this. Torn between the silent man at the head of the table those who wielded guns instead of wands. Severus shifted uncomfortably, willing his mind to focus so that it couldn’t be probed or infiltrated by anyone in the room. A chill ran down his spine despite himself, eyes shifting to settle on Dolohov. His words, however, were directed at his friend. “I heard somewhere the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Do you think that perhaps we should try to team up with the fire pigeons to get rid of our common threat?” He’d never dream of saying that to anyone else in the room- he’d be tortured or worse for even thinking it. And he hoped that Rabastan wouldn’t judge him for the idea.
She hadn’t told Severus why, yet. Why she wished to discuss and work on occlumency with him. She suspected he assumed she’d want to learn how to do it, rather than hone and improve and perfect the skill she already possessed. He’d be the third person to know of her ability. One cultivated within the walls of a fearful and oppressive home, behind a closed door and under a stark white sheet.
Lucius had given her the West Wing of the manor. It was hers to do with, as she wished. However, for the first week of living under the roof of her new home, she hadn’t moved a thing. Tentative hands had pushed open doors to inspect rooms. Fingertips had brushed over ornaments and regarded the ancient pages of books. There was a small library in the West Wing and Narcissa had fallen in love with it. She’d spent everyday there since. Today was no different, however she was alerted to Severus’ presence by a house elf who scurried towards the room, telling her someone was approaching the house. She clambered down the small ladder and made her way downstairs.
A bounce in her step. She hadn’t seen Severus in a such a long time, not since she’d —partly; for lack of a better word; gone into hiding.
Very swiftly she tied her hair half up and slipped on her soft soles shoes, which sat perfectly in place beside a pair of Lucius’. Odd how perfectly natural the two pairs looked, side-by-side. She pulled the door open, a smile on her lips.
“Sev! Welcome, come in,” she greeted him. Before long she swiftly pulled him into a quick embrace. “Thank you for coming,” she murmured.
“Peely will take your coat,” she added.
Severus hasn’t asked her why she wanted this; assumed it wasn’t his business to know; he’d been surprised that she’d inquired. Even more surprised that he’d been so open about telling her he’d been practicing occlumency. Perhaps he’d needed to find someone to practice with. The meetings with Voldemort had gotten harder as of late, he felt himself slipping under the weight of his own mind and all the information within it. And he couldn’t deny that he was slightly terrified of risking Narcissa learning of his betrayal to the cause. Prayed silently all would be well and he’d be able to leave without ending up on the floor at the opposite end of Lucius’s wand.
He embraced her in return quickly, pulling back to remove his old tattered coat. He hated it, the hyper awareness of how much he shouldn’t be standing in such a lavish foyer, handing off a raggedy coat to a sweet little house elf; and as he shoved his hand into his pocket, he realized he was getting bad again. It was inevitable, the self-hatred before the fall into murky waters. He had enough to pull him beneath them, to drown in. Potentially losing the one person he could find complete solace in was a heavy weight to carry.
“I’m thankful you invited me,” the politeness was necessary- he’d all but jumped at the opportunity to be away from his demons for a little while with someone he considered a friend. But he couldn’t completely focus on it, not with Remus laying in a hospital bed and all he wanted to was run to his side.
“Where are we headed?”
it had happened purely by accident, but remus cared an awful deal about severus. more that he could even admit to himself. it had happened before he could think about it, could realise how stupidly selfish it was. to place another person on the firing line. severus, of course, didn’t know about the dark magic constantly stirring in his heart and remus would sooner die then let him find out. remus never doubted that severus could, though. he was the smartest person he knew (besides lily, of course). too clever for his own good. if anyone was going to bring remus’ downfall, it was going to be severus snape.
the questions shouldn’t have made him smile, they really shouldn’t have. but he couldn’t help it, he’d called him ‘remus’. he’d finally upgraded from ‘lupin’, a term so loaded with accusations and mistrust. something as simple as being called by his own name shouldn’t shoot so much adrenaline into his heart, he shouldn’t be so soft, especially not in front of anyone. part of his brain scolded him for ever classing someone so brilliant as ‘anyone’. severus was one of the most important things in his life. he’d spent so many hours lying awake in his dorm room, thinking of what to say, what books to read to get severus to smile.
“they… uh.” he was stumped. remus could hardly say two sentences at a time, let alone an entire pep talk. “everyone needs an enemy, i guess? they have you, you have me…”
“i think it’s because you’re brave enough to speak up against them, stupid but brave. you’re different to them, really different. and they don’t know what to do about it. everything’s about them in their heads, so when they find something so juxtaposed they don’t know what to do. james is also just an obnoxious prat who’ll charge at any boy within two meters of evans.”
remus wished he knew what to do, wished it was okay for him to hold severus’ hands in his own. to extinguish all the nervous energy hovering around him. but he couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk severus jumping back and running off, leaving him alone again. so instead he settled into the chair closest to him, eyes never leaving his unsure glare. ‘because they don’t see you like i do.”
Severus hated feeling like this- and he’d been feeling it for years now. Since the first, really. Six years deep into psychological and physical torment from not only them, but his father, and it was a wonder he hadn’t snapped yet. At this point, he was tired. Tired of being the target for their fists and hateful words. Tired of ending up in this library with Remus reading in varied tones and making outlandish gestures. “Why don’t you say anything to them if you’re so invested in my well being?”
It fell just as the first had, unexpectedly, unintentionally. “Taking all this bloody time to read to me- you just stood there while they-they-” he buried his face in his hands, book having been set aside. Flipped me upside down and- he’d been lucky for Lily making them drop him before it got to be too much, but the effect wasn’t any less. Didn’t make it any less humiliating. He thought surely his tear ducts would have had all they could handle by now- would’ve been tired from all the anger and sadness that poured out of them at every dark event that happened in his life. But that was not so. Instead, they opened further as he buried his face in his arms and tried to breathe through the feeling of worthlessness pouring over him. “You don’t know me, Remus.” He didn’t, not really. Not yet, anyway. Sev had never truly opened up about his life and what it was like at home. Had never told anyone why he’d been wearing that flowered shirt on the first day of school. Because it was all his mother had to give him- all she could provide because all of their money went to his father’s drinking. He could disctinctly remember what it felt like to take a proper shower with hot water and soap that wasn’t hand made and barely did anything. How happy he’d been when he’d crawled into the softest bed he’d ever known. And how he’d cried silently into his pillow knowing that his mother would not have the same.
“You don’t know anything.” But he wanted him to know, strangely, despite his friends. Wanted him to see the things he’d never told anyone. Not even Lily. And Lily had known most of what he’d gone through. He wanted to tell Remus what it meant for him and why the place he thought he’d love to be became a nightmare. Why he sought so much solace in potions- because it was quiet, because he didn’t need anyone to help him, because it was the one thing he was actually good at and made him feel good. Wanted him to know....everything.
It was late. The sky seemed to have dimmed so quickly. Gray quickly having become black, bathing the streets of Diagon Alley in darkness. The cold night air brushing on skin. The damp feel of the atmosphere clinging to the skin of everyone that braved the streets. Barty wasn’t one of those, he wasn’t one to brave the cool air this evening, no he was sitting warmly in the window of the small shop. A warm cup of tea in his hand. It didn’t get overtly cold but Barty never loved cold or wet, two of his least favorite statuses. Something similar to the Slytherin dungeons, he always hated the weird dungeon under the lake. It was magically dry sure and the fire kept it warm enough, but Barty could feel it in his bones back then and he could feel it now outside.
This was the public. Not the life with his real father, something he’d never say outloud, but Voldemort was the man he saw as a father figure. Someone who actually cared about him for once in his life. No this was the public eye and until they made their final move, until Voldemort took over the Ministry, well until then out here at least he was just good Bartemius Crouch Jr. faithful son and loyal member of the public eye. He hated being ashamed of his allegiances or at least acting like it. He was rubbing a thumb over the glass. He was abentminded if you looked at him, but in reality he was taking everyone in, both inside and out. He was taking in the ways people moved and the way they existed in general. He hadn’t gotten fairly good at it too, he could identify most those he knew by the walk from the corner of his eye.
Sipping the tea he took in the flitting scents of vanilla and earl gray. He heard the background noise of people murmuring in the pub. He liked to come here because he was less likely to run into his father, both out this late or in this pub. He said it was a place for the poor and young. Barty was far from poor, something one could tell at a glance over his clothing. Finest robes hanging from the back of his chair, body draped in a black button up and green tie. His pants a form fitting pair of muggle maid dress slacks. He tapped his shoe along the ground under his table as he heard a noise out of the murmur, someone had said his name. He hadn’t seen anyone he knew when he came in, so it must have been a newcomer. Eyes darted up to meet the face of the other, he sighed under his breath before he gave his trademark smile and put on his show, “Care to join me?” He said offering the other chair with a slide of his foot to move it out for the other joining him.
Severus hadn’t often found himself in public as of late- between prepping to become the Potions master within a months time, finishing the book he’d decided to publish, and of course dancing on both sides of the war, life hadn’t been all that keen on living. But after hours of surrounded by nothing but parchment written in small, neat script, he found himself in desperate need of fresh air that didn’t stink of drying ink and fertilizer from various plant species he housed inside of his office at the Black Manor. He broke into the night with a weird spring in his step he wasn’t accustomed to, but not opposed to either, ending up at a pub he so rarely visited anymore.
The sight of one Barty Crouch made him smile just a bit. Companionship was necessary to survive, or so he’d been told. Books will only keep you breathing for so long, you know. The soft voice of his mother rang in his ears as he approached Crouch. “Barty,” he started, raising a brow at the plastered smile of his mate before settling in the chair offered. “Thanks mate.” He knew the fake grin, the sudden lift of his shoulders, realized that publicity was the perfect cover for a man with such...noble heritage. Also knew that he didn’t necessarily need to be so polite around Severus.
“Vanilla Earl Grey at a pub, Barty? Really?” There was a roll of dark eyes as he waved the woman busking over. “I’ll have a pint, yeah?” His attention returned to the man beside, “Where’ve you been hiding?”
Meeting at the Malfoy Manor as opposed to the Black Manor sat uncertainly in his stomach. He hadn’t told Lucius that he was practicing occlumency; hadn’t asked Narcissa why she’d wanted to learn it either; and as he approached the wrought iron gates adorned with stunning curling architecture, he felt extremely out of place. Entirely on guard, as if something were going to drag him down to a dungeon at any moment.
Paranoia had become a large part of his life as of late. He despised it.
A palm brushed against the iron, indicating his arrival, before he stepped through the small opening granted for him. He eyed the peacocks suspiciously- they were indeed beautiful creatures; he could see why Lucius adored them so; but never-the-less they gave his stomach a mild churn. They were as pristine as everything else, and he suddenly felt...dirty.
Eyes traveled down to his well-worn clothes; for lack of a better description; where they noticed threads they hadn’t before. And he was struck by exactly how out of place he actually was. A hand pushed through his hair nervously, before it fell to knock on the old mahogany door in front of him.
remus stumbled down the never-ending halls as fast as he could without raising suspicion. it had taken him far too long to break away from the rest of the marauders, time which he could only pray the trust he’d worked so tirelessly to gain hadn’t disintergrated in. thousands of thoughts raced through his mind, but never that severus wouldn’t be there. the reason being; there was nowhere else in the castle he could go. a small part of remus liked to believe it was also because severus somewhat enjoyed the constant bother he’d become. he stilled only once he reached the thick wooden doorway that concealed the library, shooting a somewhat genuine smile to madam pince. a mixture of sadness and relief tugged on his heart as he spotted the familiar black hair and hunched shoulders.
he weaved his way through the remaining students to the chair next to the slytherin boy. always in the furthest corner, always with his head rested on folded arms, always with slightly red eyes, always with skeptical eyes and always with words so full of venom remus was surprised they didn’t leave marks. it’d make sense, his friends were the reasons severus was sat in the corner so far from the entrance that no unsuspecting student would be bothered to travel to. remus froze as severus finally looked up, hands thrown into a surrendering position. “i’m sorry i’m late, i just…” remus’ his excuses fell short as he fumbled around his book-bag, a pained expression taking over his features “shit. i forgot the book.”
@undxraviolxtmoon
If the words that had been thrown at him with venomous tongues could be etched to his skin, he might’ve been littered with them. Saturated down to the bone; at least that’s what it felt like. Sorrow wasn’t the right word for it- he was more angry than sad. He hadn’t even realized he’d been waiting for Lupin to show. Even as his shoulders shook from the silent tears, he felt them dry the moment the other boy’s voice reached him. Part of him wished he’d just stop doing this. Stop coming to his aide when his friends decided to throw him to the wolves. Stop pretending that he cared by reading to him as if that would change anything. Severus sat up slowly, pushing his freshly cleaned hair from his face with a frustrated sigh. Eyes brighter than people liked to remark turned to Remus, a shuddering breath took in through his nose.
Snape had spent a great deal of time looking at Remus over the pages of the books he was often reading, a feeble attempt at hiding how he felt behind the covers; and he’d noticed things he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. They weren’t friends. If anything, he could really call them enemies. But Remus was nice to him when most people weren’t. He should be angry, right? Angry that he’d think it was okay to just- be nice instead of trying to put an end to it. Whatever. He had stupid hair anyway. And a dumb smile. And a steady cadence when reading that could lull anyone into a sense of security...right? Who’s heart wouldn’t stammer a little faster at hearing him laugh?
“Why do they hate me, Remus? What did I do?” he whispered.
It fell from his mouth before he could stop it. It was a question he’d never asked before but had always wanted to. Every single time they ended up here- in this same spot, with Remus reading and Severus pretending to. And he’d always found some other reason not to ask. Afraid that the answer would be that Remus felt the same- and was just taking pity on him for some reason. He didn’t need pity. Didn’t want it. Hated the idea that the other might be doing just that. His gaze fell away to the sleeves of his robe, delicate and lightly scarred fingers toying with the fabric in an attempt to hold himself together- baited breath and all.
Another night in a stuffy mask with skin prickling in anticipation was not on Severus’ agenda. He had a wolf to look after- and a nightmare knowing what would be coming soon enough in the dining room of the Riddle House. He shifted beside Rabastan, listening to the murmurs around the table, eyes catching each mask with the stone knowledge of what the faces were beneath. It was not often that Voldemort requested they be masked at a meeting- which was a concern that settled in the center of his chest and bloomed in the form of tightness and almost labored breathing.
“Any news on the hunters?” He murmured to his friend, tilting slightly toward the male.
Richard Harmon
The coiling panic had settled in his chest the moment the news had been released about Remus’ disappearance from the wedding. He hasn’t even seen the man there- had been avoiding him out of some made up respectful boundary. Was he dead? There had been no casualties announced but if a Death Eater had taken him there was a very good chance he’d not make it out alive. The week went by in slow motion. Severus tried to hide the rising feeling of despair with each passing day- tried to remedy the sallow look to his skin and the dark circles from lack of sleep beneath his eyes and still no word. He’d owled some old friends at Mungos to keep him posted with no reason as to why. They didn’t need to know how much Remus actually meant to him-
The self admittance came the moment he received the news that Lupin had arrived at Mungos in critical condition. His heart had never dropped out of his chest so fast. He’d braced against the worn wall in his shabby living room, palm pressed to the peeling floral pattern his mum had insisted on keeping after his father disappeared. She was sleeping soundly on the tattered sofa- and he was falling apart a few feet away.
But more than that, he had to get there. Remus couldn’t wake up alone, could he? No- no surely his friends would be there and they’d...they’d wonder why he’d shown up. He pulled himself together, fisting a hand against his mouth and struggling to breathe. Anger and vengeance for what had been done to Remus fueled through the pain of worrying whether he’d make it out alive. From the desk in his room he snatched a bag of potions he’d been experimenting with in the hopes that something stronger might help heal him faster. Or bring him back from the brink.
Seconds later he was running through halls too white and too familiar like he was a nurse there again- headed for a patient in need of help. No one batted an eyelash as he rushed past, and stopped at the door ajar, chest heaving. Empty aside from a nurse. “May I see him?”
A cackle left her hoarse throat. The energy that buzzed beneath the blacken robes was nothing compared to the wild thoughts that ran through her mind. This is what she was made for. To end the suffering of those that denied where true power lied. Curses flew from the tip of her wand wildly, aiming carelessly at those who just moments before thought these memories would be loving. She turned on her heel, throwing back the opponent before her eyes beneath the mask met with familiar ones. Severus Snape, but his lack of disguise was perplexing. Enough to pause for a moment; but showing favoritism would only raise questions.
“Reducto.” She had questions of her own; and the curse was sent towards the stack of champagne flutes on the neighboring table. A burst of glass that would cause far less injury than what she had cast before.
@undxraviolxtmoon
Severus had known the attack was to happen, had mentally prepared himself for the onslaught with the knowledge that most probably- the people here wouldn’t make it out alive or even uninjured. He’d been attempting to protect a guest from the nearest Death Eater and he knew the moment the curse didn’t hit him exactly who it was. Bella. Trix, as he more affectionately called her during missions. In the chaos of a battle, he could have gotten away with masking himself if he was fast enough but he hadn’t thought it would be the best idea.
The Order was there; all of them; and the last thing he’d needed was them to know what he did in his spare time. Only two knew of his double-agent status within the Order ranks. Alice and Dumbledore. And Voldemort held the knowledge that he was part of them as well. The confusion in her eyes was well placed, and he quickly fired the oppungo jinx at a nearby set of chairs to cause them to attack in his place. Not that it would do much, but it was better than no response at all.
