The Human Condition
Untitled
‘Another year alone,’ sighed Remus Lupin as he toasted an imaginary glass of champagne to himself. It was his birthday, and birthdays were always a time to reflect on his sad and lonely life. To put it that way seemed harsh, yet it was the truth. Fear and isolation had placed Remus in an exile of empty nights and cold beds.
He flicked over his tiny handful of birthday cards, all from students or colleagues. None were from close friends or family. A sharp rap at the door snapped Remus out of his depressive musings. He knew that staccato knock, so he was unsurprised when Severus Snape appeared around the door and strode into his office.
“Good afternoon, Severus,” he said, wearily, although in truth he was glad of the company. ‘Christ, I really am lonely,’ he thought, to himself.
“What are these?” Snape asked derisively, picking up a card from the desk.
“Birthday cards, Severus. Today just so happens to be my birthday.”
“Really. How interesting.” The sarcasm in Snape’s voice was palpable. “I’m here on a matter of-”
“Severus, why don’t you join me for a drink” interrupted Remus, sounding a little more eager than he would have liked. As he did so, he waved his wand, and a glass of fine red materialised. It was the perfect excuse. As a rule, Remus didn’t like to drink alone, but it seemed a shame not to enjoy his birthday.
Severus’ expression clouded. “I beg your pardon?”
“Join me for a drink,” Remus repeated. “One can’t hurt.”
Snape stared coldly for a moment. Then, to Remus’ surprise, he pulled out a chair and picked up a glass. Remus filled it for him. They drank the first glass in silence.
“You are clearly quite pathetic, you know that?” jeered Snape.
Remus shrugged. “Why so, Severus?”
“Because on your birthday, of all days, you resort to sharing the company of your worst enemy, rather than being alone.”
“Perceptive as ever, Severus. But then it begs the question of why you are here.”
Snape did not answer. Instead, he poured another glass. Outside, the sun began to set and candles flared up inside the office as they continued to drink in silence. It was pointless, really, but Remus intended on finishing the bottle.
Once it was dark outside, and the bottle was empty, Snape stood up. Remus did so too, a little unsteadily. He had never been good at holding his drink. He began to walk around the front of the desk, taking careful steps.
“What are you doing?” asked Snape, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” replied Remus. Even he was not sure. He continued to stagger until he tripped, clumsily, over a part of the rug and lost his balance. The room became a kaleidoscope as he began to fall. But then, miraculously, something stopped his fall. He looked up, disorientated, to find that Severus Snape had caught him. His arms seemed cold and hard. But the simple exhilaration of being held in somebody’s arms, even when those arms belonged to Severus Snape, hit Remus. It was a nice feeling. And like a flower leaning towards the sun, albeit a very harsh and bitter sun, he entwined his arms with Snape’s, so that they were locked in a bizarre embrace.
“Why did you do that?” he muttered, against Snape’s shoulder, which he now realised he was leaning upon.
“Believe me, not out of charity. But stopping you from knocking yourself out saved me a trip to the hospital wing. And I suggest you take your hands off me.”
“Very well,” laughed Remus, straightening up as best he could. But there was a strange look in his eye.
“What are you doing,” hissed Snape.
“This.”
Clumsily, unexpectedly, Remus launched himself against Snape’s lips. Too many birthdays spend in solitude had left him starved and hungry, even for this. His lips crashed into Snape’s with the taste of wine mingling with the though that this was all quite wrong, but he ignored it. He was too drunk even to notice that Snape was kissing back.
When he pulled away he saw a look of incredulous disgust in Snape’s eyes. Unceremoniously, Snape let him fall, and he dropped on to the rug, as Snape bolted from the room.
Remus lay curled on the rug, shaking with laughter, but at the same time muttering to himself, “What was I thinking, what was I thinking?”
He flicked over his tiny handful of birthday cards, all from students or colleagues. None were from close friends or family. A sharp rap at the door snapped Remus out of his depressive musings. He knew that staccato knock, so he was unsurprised when Severus Snape appeared around the door and strode into his office.
“Good afternoon, Severus,” he said, wearily, although in truth he was glad of the company. ‘Christ, I really am lonely,’ he thought, to himself.
“What are these?” Snape asked derisively, picking up a card from the desk.
“Birthday cards, Severus. Today just so happens to be my birthday.”
“Really. How interesting.” The sarcasm in Snape’s voice was palpable. “I’m here on a matter of-”
“Severus, why don’t you join me for a drink” interrupted Remus, sounding a little more eager than he would have liked. As he did so, he waved his wand, and a glass of fine red materialised. It was the perfect excuse. As a rule, Remus didn’t like to drink alone, but it seemed a shame not to enjoy his birthday.
Severus’ expression clouded. “I beg your pardon?”
“Join me for a drink,” Remus repeated. “One can’t hurt.”
Snape stared coldly for a moment. Then, to Remus’ surprise, he pulled out a chair and picked up a glass. Remus filled it for him. They drank the first glass in silence.
“You are clearly quite pathetic, you know that?” jeered Snape.
Remus shrugged. “Why so, Severus?”
“Because on your birthday, of all days, you resort to sharing the company of your worst enemy, rather than being alone.”
“Perceptive as ever, Severus. But then it begs the question of why you are here.”
Snape did not answer. Instead, he poured another glass. Outside, the sun began to set and candles flared up inside the office as they continued to drink in silence. It was pointless, really, but Remus intended on finishing the bottle.
Once it was dark outside, and the bottle was empty, Snape stood up. Remus did so too, a little unsteadily. He had never been good at holding his drink. He began to walk around the front of the desk, taking careful steps.
“What are you doing?” asked Snape, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” replied Remus. Even he was not sure. He continued to stagger until he tripped, clumsily, over a part of the rug and lost his balance. The room became a kaleidoscope as he began to fall. But then, miraculously, something stopped his fall. He looked up, disorientated, to find that Severus Snape had caught him. His arms seemed cold and hard. But the simple exhilaration of being held in somebody’s arms, even when those arms belonged to Severus Snape, hit Remus. It was a nice feeling. And like a flower leaning towards the sun, albeit a very harsh and bitter sun, he entwined his arms with Snape’s, so that they were locked in a bizarre embrace.
“Why did you do that?” he muttered, against Snape’s shoulder, which he now realised he was leaning upon.
“Believe me, not out of charity. But stopping you from knocking yourself out saved me a trip to the hospital wing. And I suggest you take your hands off me.”
“Very well,” laughed Remus, straightening up as best he could. But there was a strange look in his eye.
“What are you doing,” hissed Snape.
“This.”
Clumsily, unexpectedly, Remus launched himself against Snape’s lips. Too many birthdays spend in solitude had left him starved and hungry, even for this. His lips crashed into Snape’s with the taste of wine mingling with the though that this was all quite wrong, but he ignored it. He was too drunk even to notice that Snape was kissing back.
When he pulled away he saw a look of incredulous disgust in Snape’s eyes. Unceremoniously, Snape let him fall, and he dropped on to the rug, as Snape bolted from the room.
Remus lay curled on the rug, shaking with laughter, but at the same time muttering to himself, “What was I thinking, what was I thinking?”