Unlikely Beginnings

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Chapter Thirty Five

The fire was crackling ie bae background, heating the room many more degrees
than it would normally be without the flames. Lupin almost wished he could
put the fire out, but he knew that wouldn\'t be the best idea. His arms were
propped on the surface of his desk on his elbows, and the palms of his hands
were pressed against his temples, fingers twining into his damp hair. The
front of it fell over his forehead, which was equally wet with sweat, and
the occasional bead would trickle its way down the bridge of his nose to
drip on to the desk. He\'d cleared his books away, leaving only the wooden
surface and a goblet of water to his side.

The handkerchief was laid beside the goblet as well, still having the blood
soaked into the fabric from his earlier attempts, and fresh stains from only
moments ago. He was in pain, and at the apex of the process he was so
dreadfully becoming familiar with. Remus\' breath came as a heavy, drawn out
pant, and the few times a new spike of pain would strike him, a sharp gasp
was his reply. He didn\'t know how many times he could do this; in the
morning if he wasn\'t successful tonight, then tomorrow afternoon, and
tomorrow night. He was becoming weary, and almost wished for the bone
twisting misery and ache the Change afflicted on him every full moon.

Lupin bared his teeth, gritting them tight together as another white hot
needle felt like it was being poked into the skin under his fingers when he
brought them down to press against his temples. If anyone was there to
witness his actions, they\'d be extremely frightened. When Remus pried his
eyes open, he caught the distorted reflection of himself in the mirror that
hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. The image was blurred, his eyes
watering from the pain. He couldn\'t cry out, as he\'d not sound proofed his
office, and wouldn\'t chance having a student walking by want to know what
was going on. There was also the fact that if he did yell, it would sound
rather on the vicious side.

Squeezing his eyes shut again, Lupin pressed through the pain, trying to
force his thoughts to Severus\' mind once again. He\'d been there for two and
a quarter hours, and he\'d let his mind stray at several points; there wasn\'t
much allowance for other thoughts to run through one\'s mind as they were
trying to accomplish this particular feat. It was due to odd word
associations that his mind wandered. Repeating the same thing over and over
again tended to trigger thoughts outside of what he was concentrating on,
and he, they all, couldn\'t afford to waste any more time.

With the few interruptions his brain had insisted on making exceptions for,
even in his determined state, Remus had maintained a constant stream of
projection as he repeated the relayed message again and again. He felt
another, heavier flow of liquid down his face, and recognized it as blood.
His nose had started bleeding again from the pressure he was exerting inside
his head, and he itched to wipe it away and give up for the night, rest from
the pain he\'d caused himself; he couldn\'t let Harry down.

Suddenly, he felt a brief, sharp snap in his brain, and he quickly projected
the message he\'d prepared, as strongly as he could, \'Snape, Harry and Draco
have followed you to Durmstrang. Lupin.\' He had wondered earlier if speaking
it out loud would help the connection, or make it worse. One would suppose
it would lessen the meaning of telepathic speech, so he\'d not bothered to
attempt it, as well as for the fact he sounded ridiculous reciting a message
to someone who wasn\'t even in the room. Remus was unable to repress the sigh
that escaped his lips as the tension was broken, immediately relaxing the
more tense parts of his anatomy.

He opened his eyes, still repeating the message in his mind, and his
forehead creased into an expression of pure agony as he searched for a way
to hold onto the abruptly loosening connection he\'d established. There was
no way for him to maintain the mental contact, and he reluctantly relaxed,
letting go of the thread, allowing it to disappear. There was nothing else
he could do for the moment, and just as the snap had signaled the bond, it
did the same in reverse, leaving him, fading, and his vision foed sed suit.

Lupin gasped at the darkness that over took his eyes before he slid his arms
down to cross over each other, collapsing over the desk. He tried to stay
awake, but it was a losing battle at the moment, and he lowered his head
onto his arms as slowly and gently as he could as consciousness slipped away
from him. The last thought that ran through his head was vague hopes that
Snape had received the message, that it wasn\'t simply a delusion from the
pain, and the final coherence of thought was, \'please, let him be all
right.\' Sweat soaked strips of hair that were becoming a bit too shaggy fell
over his eyes, and his breathing slowed as Lupin fell into a deep sleep.

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It was cold in the castle, much more so than the dungeons at Hogwarts. Snape
had been staring at the fire in the room that had been allocated to him, and
that was about the only thought that he\'d allowed himself to think about. If
for nothing else, this \'trip\' would provide him with time to simply forget
about everything so he could sit in his room and brood about nothing in
particular. To be honest, he hated it here, but he had to come. If he
hadn\'t, it would have looked suspicious; he wasn\'t one of the best spies
Dumbledore had for no good reason at all, you know. He did his job well, and
prided himself on it.

There were just the times, like this, that he felt like stomping his foot
down and crossing his arms, and point blank refusing to cooperate. Severus
looked down into the cup he held in his hands, half full of fire whiskey. It
was one thing to show up drunk, it was another to get drunk while waiting
and having nothing else to do while waiting for the Dark Lord. Impeccable
timing, that one, Snape thought to himself, lifting the cup to his lips.
Just as he\'d swallowed a mouthful of the liquor, Snape turned suddenly in
his chair, looking to the door. He frowned, cocking his head slightly to
listen.

He could have sworn he heard voices outside. It was silent for another
moment, and he didn\'t hear anything more. He was just about to turn back to
the fire when he heard it again. The voice was familiar, but it could have
been any number of old acquaintances that now swarmed the ranks of the Death
Eaters. \'Snape,\' it said, and he frowned again. There was no doubt in his
mind that he was imaging the voice, and he could just ignore someone at the
door, calling him to come out to some meeting or another, but... that wasn\'t
it.

It didn\'t feel right. It was almost as if someone - \'Snape\' - was in his
mind. The expression slipped from his face as he turned slowly towards the
fire, careful not to make much noise, and he closed his eyes. Allowing his
mind to truly focus entirely on nothing, he listened. \'Harry,\' he heard,
then, in his mind. What about Harry? It could simply be his subconscious
thinking extremely loud at a bad time for him to pick up little words, but
that theory didn\'t seem right either. No, there was something prickling at
his senses, and it wasn\'t any part of himself. \'Draco;\' again, that could be
anything, from old Potions class memories to recent, disgusting revelations.

\'Followed.\' At that, Snape opened his eyes, and almost felt the subtle
connection that had been beginning, almost begging, to form in his mind,
break. He willed it to stay put, keeping his mind open. \'Durmstrang -
Lupin,\' and the last word was almost a whisper before Snape came to full
alert. \"Lupin,\" he repeated, testing the name. It didn\'t fit in his
thoughts, and he frowned deeply, taking another drink from his cup. There
was no reason his mind would pop up a thought of Remus Lupin out of no
where, but - wait. Followed?

Sitting forward in the chair, Snape began to put the words together. Harry
and Draco... followed... Oh, dear Merlin, those imbeciles, Severus thought.
Had the boys followed him to Durmstrang? It could be entirely possibly, and
he\'d never know until it was too late, and Voldemort would have caught the
boy. Harry\'s life would be on his head, and he would never be able to live
with it. They wouldn\'t be able to catch up with him so quickly, though.
Lupin must have been trying to contact him telepathically, though it was
clear the werewolf was inexperienced. He wasn\'t great himself, but he had to
give Lupin credit for forcing that much through.

Snape would have sympathized with the pain he knew Remus must be feeling
right now, but he had more important matters at hand now. As much as he
disliked the boy, and his dearly departed father, Snape could never kill
someone who didn\'t deserve it. Damnit, Lupin! Severus brought a hand to his
face, covering it for a moment. Lupin had to tell him somehow, and Snape had
to admit that he\'d picked the least likely way to be detected. Though, if
Voldemort sensed unease within him, he\'d automatically search Snape\'s mind
for wary thoughts; and he\'d run straight into a mental image of Harry being
tortured.

Well, he supposed that wouldn\'t exactly put the Dark Lord off; maybe alight
with pride at Severus for being so creative. But he would go deeper, not
trusting anyone, not even his presumed faithful servants. Snape drained the
last of the whiskey from his cup and decided to wander the halls for a
while. He sincerely doubted he\'d run into the boys, though he had no idea
how they were traveling, but he really didn\'t think they\'d be there yet.
He\'d apparated, knowing exactly where to go, but they didn\'t; even if they
left the same night, they\'d still be behind. They wouldn\'t be stupid enough,
he hoped, to run around the corridors during the day, if they were indeed
coming to the castle.

To begin with, the night time wasn\'t that much better, but at least a
majority of dangers were asleep in the dark. As well as that, no one just
waltzed into a castle surrounded by Dark Arts. It was far more undetectable
than simply being unplottable. Someone would have to know how to get inside,
but, he supposed dismally, that Draco might remember how to do just that.
There was a bit more depth to that relationship than he\'d previously
thought, though he made it a point not to think about it as he slipped out
of his room and into the hall.

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