Harry Potter One Shots

The Sound of Silence

All rights belong to the author, jackwabbit

Severus Snape's exaggerated sarcastic drawl was the last thing Remus Lupin wanted to hear.

"Really, Moony," said Snape, allowing maximum acidity to infuse each word. "How do you manage these things? I'd suspect a rough night in the forest, but your time isn't for another week. Perhaps this is the result of an overly emotional brawl with one of your own?"

Remus gritted his teeth. Hearing his Marauder nickname come from Snape's mouth was nearly enough to send him into a rage by itself, but the way the potions master sneered the phrase "one of your own" boiled Lupin's blood.

Still, Remus held his tongue.

Like it or not, Snape was the closest thing to a healer he had at his disposal. He was not about to admit this injury to Molly Weasley, and Saint Mungo's was right out.

He really didn't feel like all the paperwork required for werewolf treatment tonight. He could've done without signing another "understanding the necessity for restraints despite current human form" waiver ever again, actually, and so he settled for Snape.

Remus suddenly snorted as Severus examined his wound.

"Does something amuse you, werewolf?" sneered Snape. "Because I can assure you that I find nothing amusing in being dragged from my bed at this hour to deal with a simple laceration."

Remus snorted again, but while the sound was close to a chuckle, there was no mirth in it. "Simple" laceration. "Settling" for Snape. Both lies, and Remus knew that well.

And suddenly, Snape knew it, too. As he realized what he'd said and who his patient was, Snape's eyebrows drew together in an abrupt scowl. He looked up from Lupin's wound and met the man's eyes. His expression was a mixture of surprise and suspicion. Remus met his gaze with a resigned look and offered a tiny shrug. After a moment, Snape spoke slowly.

"How did this happen?"

Remus swallowed. "Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not," sighed Snape.

"Do you have what you need?"

"I can slow the bleeding for the moment, but I need time to prepare the actual healing potion."

"It takes several days."

"Yes, and it's quite a piece of work, as well. A piece of work I've no time for now. You're fortunate that I foresaw this situation. I happen to have several aliquots of Argentum Antidote in storage. As I'm sure you know, it's quite stable until the final step is completed."

"And that step takes one hour exactly."

"Interesting how little you know of most potions but how well you know a handful, Lupin. Occupational hazard, I suppose. Pity it's only an academic knowledge. I do so tire of preparing treatments for your 'condition.' You'd think you could manage."

"Severus..." Remus' voice held a warning and his hand gripped his wand inside his robes. For the millionth time in his life, he cursed his lack of talent at potions. His considerable skill at charms and defense came to mind now, but he eventually relaxed his death grip on his wand and restrained himself to only glaring at Snape.

Snape held up a hand, clearly enjoying Lupin's discomfort. "No need to get testy. I shall prepare it. I will return in one hour. Wait for me here."

"Thank you, Severus."

"Don't mention it," said Snape. Somehow he managed to make even this phrase an insult.

Snape left number twelve Grimmauld Place via the front door and apparated as soon as he hit the night air.

Upstairs, alone in the house, he left Remus Lupin. He left him nursing a thigh that was cut down to bright white bone. A thigh that was not healing as it normally would on a creature such as Remus. A thigh bound in plain Muggle bandages that was still oozing blood through them despite Remus' Coagulus charm and Snape's Ahemorrhagica potion application.

An hour later, Snape returned as promised. He found Remus unconscious. The werewolf's vital signs were strong and he appeared to be merely sleeping. Snape did nothing to change that.

He treated Remus' wound without a word and his patient never budged.

So, not just sleeping, then, thought Snape. Still, it's just as well.

Snape knew that his ministrations were very painful, and frankly he was glad Lupin was out of it.

That way, the two men did not have to speak, which was truly a blessing. Speaking could've led to all sorts of nastiness, especially since healing wounds like Remus' took several hours, even with the proper potion.

Merlin only knows what might have come out if they'd talked through the night.

Remus might have been forced to admit to owning a dagger of pure silver. He might have confessed that while his injury was the result of an accident and not from some glorious battle, the fact that he'd been playing with the dagger while in a very dark mood when the accident occurred was not by chance.

And Snape?

He might have admitted to keeping Argentum Antidote on hand ever since he learned to make it in his fifth year.

No, that wouldn't do. Not in either case. Silence was vastly superior.

And so Remus Lupin, though fully conscious, continued to feign sleep; and so Severus Snape, though wholly concerned, continued to feign indifference.