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"Look at him. Skulking about as usual."
"Such a creep."
"And what's with those dress robes? They look about five sizes too big!"
Remus has just taken a bite of a sandwich when he feels his stomach do that familiar cold twisty thing it always does whenever his friends brought up the subject of Severus Snape. He forces himself to chew the tasteless mound of cheese and ham until it's just soft enough to force down his drying throat.
Deep down Remus knows that, just like last time, he has three choices; he could do the right thing, the wrong thing, or the easy thing. The right thing would be to stop them now before things got out of hand, remind them he was a Prefect and would take points if he had to, even tell the nearest Professor about their plans. But doing the right thing was, obviously, impossible.
The wrong thing would be to do what Peter was doing right now; to hop from foot to foot in anticipation of another's suffering. Or worse—to actually join in with whatever they were about to do. And although he would never do it, the wrong thing is sometimes more tempting than Remus likes to admit.
So that just leaves the easy thing. The same path Remus takes every single time because it's, well, easy.
He racks his brains for another dull conversation topic to strike up with Mary and pretends none of it is happening. This way he doesn't have to risk his friendship with the others (his most precious, treasured lifeline—not just to his school life, but to his very humanity) and can still reassure himself that he hasn't participated. He tells himself that, this way, he can still keep a hold on at least some of his morals and tries to forget the uncomfortable fact that each time he does do the easy thing, he ends up feeling nearly as bad as if he had just joined in from the beginning.
"Err, the punch is good this year, isn't it?" Remus hears himself say.
Mary's smile is polite yet stiff. Merlin, had he mentioned the punch already? He's having trouble keeping track of their conversation while trying to keep an ear out for anything Snape-related his friends might be discussing. Something in their tone has him on high alert.
"I think you're being a bit too hard on him, Pads," James says, without a shred of sincerity. "What else has he got to do but stand there? Not his fault he's too ugly for anyone to dance with."
Beside him, Mary titters. It's barely audible but Remus catches it. He guesses that Mary, too, is more interested in whatever is about to happen between James, Sirius and Snape than in their lukewarm 'date'.
"You know, Prongs? I think you might be right," Sirius says. "All this time I thought he was a disgusting, skulking weirdo, but really he just lacks confidence! You know—because of how hideously ugly he is and everything."
As the laughter breaks out around him, Remus looks at Severus. Really looks at him. He's standing at the back of the room next to a large gang of Slytherins. Close enough that, at first glance, Remus thinks he's included. But when he starts paying attention, Remus notices the way the others shift subtly away from him, how they shout over him as if he wasn't there. In fact, his proximity to the rest of his housemates only seems to make him seem more alone.
Snape is fairly tall for his age—almost as tall as Sirius—but you wouldn't think it to look at him. He always seems so hunched over. Remus wonders if it's a habit left over from spending every waking moment craning over a textbook, or whether it's something else. Whether he's trying—consciously or not—to make himself smaller, less noticeable and, therefore, less of a target. Remus feels like telling him not to bother. However good Snape's impression of a wallflower is tonight, he's always going to stand out. And right now, to the Marauder's, he looks like a bright, flashing bull's eye.
"I reckon we should do something to help him out," James says. Although he's talking to Sirius, he projects his voice loud enough for the whole group to hear. "You know, push him out of his comfort zone a little."
Sirius grins. "I think that would do him the world of good, mate!"
Remus turns to Mary for support. Though he doesn't know her well, he's always thought of her as a kind girl. Back in Third Year, when they used to sit next to each other in Potions, she would fill him in on all the things he inevitably missed once a month, and she never seemed to mind when he snuck glances at her cauldron to make sure that whatever was brewing inside it vaguely matched the colour of his own.
Yes, Mary was a kind person. Empathetic. It was the main reason why he'd asked her to come to the ball with him tonight. But now, as he looks at his date, Remus sees that her normally soft features harden.
"It'll serve him right," she says.
Remus is taken aback, at first, but then he remembers what happened to her last year, the awful thing those two Slytherin boys did to her. Remus knows for a fact that Severus wasn't involved—not directly at least—but he also knows a thing or two about not stepping in when you should, about just letting something happen because it's so much easier than the alternative, and about becoming guilty by association in the process.
"Keep a lookout for teachers," James hisses to Peter. "You too, Moony."
"I'm not—"
"You're not getting involved," James finishes, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." Then he stealthily withdraws his wand from the sleeve of his dress robe.
James and Sirius whisper to each other—probably discussing which spell to use. Remus can't make out what they're saying because the band has suddenly struck up a fast-paced tune that's three times louder than the waltz they had just been performing. He thinks about asking Mary to dance— it's the last thing he wants to do right now, but at least it would stop him from having to see whatever's about to happen. But judging by how excitedly she's watching his two friends and how much her eyes have lit up with anticipation, it's clear that she is far more interested in whatever cruel trick they are planning to play on Snape than she could ever be about dancing with him.
Technically, Remus could still do the right thing. Professor McGonagall is only a few feet away. She's deep in conversation with Professor Sprout, the music's so loud that she has to bend down to shout into the smaller woman's ear, but he could still grab her attention in time. Maybe he could even do it without the others noticing. No. That wouldn't work. Not with Peter's narrow eyes flitting between every teacher in the Great Hall.
Maybe he could finally say something. Tell James that enough was enough. He could even go so far as to wrestle the wand out of James' hand. Cause a scene. That's what a real Gryffindor would do.
Instead, he just stands there. His hands by his sides. Indecision making the decision for him, as it always did.
As much as he doesn't want to bear witness to this, Remus can't stop himself from watching. He watches as James, holding his wand down low, finds a clear line through the mass of dancing students straight to Snape.
At first, Remus thinks it hasn't worked because Snape barely reacts. He hopes that whatever spell James cast Snape's way was either mispronounced and thus rendered useless, or it simply did not hit the right target and some other poor student was about to suffer the unintended consequences. (It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.) The only thing that indicates a change in Snape's behaviour is a slight tilt of his head, as though he were straining to hear something over the music. The expression on his face becomes unreadable, almost as though he has fallen into some kind of trance.
Then suddenly, with a speed that borders on ferocious, Snape is striding through the crowd towards their little group.
Despite the fury that seems to be driving Snape towards them, Remus finds himself relaxing slightly. The spell hadn't worked after all and this was Snape either coming to give them all a piece of his mind or to inform Professor McGonagall what her favourite students had just tried to pull off right under her nose. Or perhaps he was simply coming over to gloat. Either way, Remus was off the hook.
But Snape does none of these things. He doesn't even get close to approaching their table, because he stops right in the centre of the dance floor and, for a few moments, simply stands there alone. Dancing couples collide into him one after the other, but he seems completely oblivious to this, along with the dirty looks many of them throw his way.
Remus' stomach lurches worse than before because he's already guessed what's coming.
Snape starts to dance. All by himself. Right there in front of everyone. And it isn't good dancing either. Oh no. This is the most awkwardly uncoordinated thing Remus has ever seen. Snape moves each of his limbs in a motion that can only be described as flailing, making them look more gangly than ever before. At first, it's jerking and juddery, as though part of him is still resisting the spell somehow, but soon he finds something resembling rhythm and Remus knows his body has fully succumbed.
The laughter starts almost immediately. The loudest of which, by far, belongs to Sirius.
He claps James on the shoulder in an exaggerated gesture and howls, making himself heard halfway across the Great Hall even over the collective din of music, chatter and the shuffle of dancing feet.
It has the desired effect. Soon everyone is looking around trying to find the source of amusement. The dancing couples slow their steps and some even come to a complete stop as they turn to stare at the spectacle before them. Snape has changed his routine, the magic spurred on by the growing onlookers. His arms are now raised above his head while his legs do some sort of jig. The sheer ridiculousness of it—no doubt coupled with how unpopular Snape is—causes even more laughter to break out, even amongst the Slytherins. Soon Remus can barely hear the music over it and he has the strong urge to cover his ears against it. But he doesn't. Nor does he look away.
Technically, this isn't as bad as some of the things his friends have put Snape through. He isn't in any physical danger, for one thing. Unlike the time James almost choked him with soap bubbles or—of course—the night Sirius nearly turned him into Remus' first victim. Nor is he in any pain, not like when they levitated him into that patch of stinging nettles or when they 'accidentally' lost control of a very angry Murtlap in Professor Kettleburn's class that just so happened to make a beeline straight for Snape's feet. And sure, this is embarrassing, but at least Snape isn't being stripped to his underwear for half the school to see. It's just a stupid bit of dancing. And yet...
And yet somehow this is the hardest thing Remus has ever had to watch. All those other times when Remus' friends did something silly, immature, or downright cruel to Snape, he had always seemed to hold his own. Given as good as he got. And even when he couldn't fight back—physically or verbally—you could see the defiance in his face, with his scowling brow and hard-set jaw. And his eyes. They were what always filled Remus with unnerved admiration for the Slytherin. Whether he was looking up from the ground, face streaked with mud or glaring down at them from where he was suspended from the ceiling, those deep black eyes would burn with the unspoken promise that one day he would pay them back.
Not this time, though. While his body still moved like a puppet on a string, Snape had regained control of his face. (It would hardly have been fun if nobody could see his reaction, would it?) An initial look of panic had washed over it as he realised what was happening to him and tried to fight it, but then he just seemed to...give up. His flushing face now hangs down towards his still-jigging feet, obscured from view behind curtains of lank, black hair and, because of this, it's difficult for Remus to be sure, but he thinks he can see a tear run down Snape's large nose. Only then does it occur to him that, although his friends insisted on calling him 'Snivellous' since First Year, crying was one thing Remus had never seen Severus Snape do.
And, for some reason, the sight of it makes Remus furious.
He jolts in surprise at the feeling of Mary's hand on his arm. She's crying too, though not from sadness or anger or humiliation or even pity; the tears that she's currently wiping from her eyes are those of sheer mirth.
Remus shrugs her off without thinking. He's suddenly seized by a momentary hatred for all of them; Mary, Peter, Sirius, and—most of all—James. Remus is dimly aware of his hands curling into fists as he watched his friend claps along to Snape's 'performance' as though it was the best thing he had seen all night. More than ever, Remus feels like marching over to him and giving him a piece of his mind. To set him straight once and for all by telling him this pathetic feud had to stop. That throwing his weight around like a bully didn't impress Lily then and it certainly wasn't going to now. He doesn't say anything of the sort, of course.
Where was Lily anyway? He scans the room and quickly locates her sitting with a table Ravenclaws. Remus knows she's still angry with Snape after what happened at the Lake, but surely she'll do something about this? But the way her painted lips stretch into a too-tight smile as she makes a big show of appearing very interested in whatever the sandy-haired boy next to her has to say, tells Remus that she's just as eager to ignore what's happening to her former best friend as he was in the moments before it began.
And where were the teachers?! Although it felt like an eternity had passed since Snape began his demented two-step, in reality, he can't have been out there longer than a minute, but a minute was more than enough time to ruin someone's reputation forever. Remus should know.
Right, Remus thinks, if no-one's going to bother their arse to doing something—I'll have to!
But what? He's already exhausted all his options. It's too late to play Prefect and confront his friends, even if he was brave enough to do it. And the thought of giving in and laughing along with them made him sick to his stomach. But he couldn't just look away and pretend it wasn't happening either! Not this time.
What he has to do hits him all of a sudden. It's so simple that Remus is momentarily stunned by the fact that it's never occurred to him before. It wasn't necessarily the right thing, but it wasn't the wrong thing either, and it most certainly, definitely, was not the easy thing. No. The thing Remus is about to do can only be described as the complete and utterly mad thing.
As he starts to walk, Remus has a feeling not dissimilar to the one he gets right after he's transformed. He knows his feet are moving, carrying him in the direction of the dancefloor, but it's like he's in someone else's body. As though he couldn't possibly be doing something so risky, so outlandish, so unlike him. But what keeps driving him forward isn't a curse—blood or otherwise— right now he's totally in control.
He thinks he can hear James calling out to him. He must be wondering what on earth Remus is doing, but whatever he shouts is no match for the noise of the music and the laughter and the strange ringing sensation that's just started in Remus' ears.
By the time he reaches Snape, that ringing is all that Remus can hear.
Snape doesn't notice him at first—his hair still blocking the world from view as it so often did. His movements are getting slower now; maybe the spell is keeping time with the changing pace of the music, or perhaps it is starting to wear off. And if that's the case, Remus needs to act now before it does or there's no way this will work.
And so—still feeling as though it's not really him that's doing it—Remus starts to dance. He copies Snape's movements as best he can; puts his arms out in front of him, winds his closed fists over each other again and again, sways his hips, and taps his feet all at once. Remus knows he isn't the best dancer, even under normal circumstances. He probably looks just as awkward and clunky as Snape does, perhaps even more so, but he forces himself through the motions regardless.
A stillness creeps over the entire room. At one point it seems as though he, Snape, and the seemingly oblivious band members are the only ones moving at all. Remus can feel everyone's eyes on them, wondering how exactly they're supposed to take this new turn of events. And although tonight is nowhere near the full moon, Remus looks up towards the bewitched night sky that is their ceiling, and wonders if transforming into a full-sized werewolf right in the middle of the Great Hall might actually be preferable to this. It would certainly be less embarrassing.
"What are you doing?!"
Remus is snapped out of his ridiculous thoughts by Snape's angry hiss. He's finally noticed Remus' presence. The fury-filled look on his blotchy face is completely at odds with the happy little dance his body is still performing.
"I... uh.."—Remus raises his arms over his head and waves them around stupidly in a mirror image of what Snape is doing—"Look. Just go with it, okay?"
Before Snape has time to reply, the worst thing that could possibly happen happens—Snape stops dancing. His feet slow to a stop the same moment as his arms fall abruptly to his sides. The spell has worn off. Snape gives Remus a final glare before he whips around and begins to storm off.
Remus hasn't exactly put much thought into his plan, but he knows that Snape storming off is something that he absolutely cannot let happen. If it does then it means for certain that one of two things will happen; either Remus will be the person left dancing alone like an idiot OR everyone will think he had just gotten up here to take the piss out of Snape even more. Remus' already made a twat out of himself and he isn't about to let it be for nothing, so he does the only thing left available to him: before Snape can get away further, Remus grabs him by the arm and twirls him around. Somehow, the two of them manage to do this so gracefully that, to their unaware audience, the whole thing ends up looking like some sort of expertly executed jive. They're even rewarded with a few cheers and, somewhere, someone wolf whistles.
Of course, Snape nearly ruins it by trying to shove Remus off.
"What are you- Getoffme!"
Remus is holding on to Snape's bony wrist so tightly he's worried it might snap in two, but he has to make him understand—he's not taking the piss, he's trying to help! If then can make everyone think they planned it from the start, then maybe...
He seeks out Snape's deep, black eyes and stares straight into them. "I know it's hard, but please - just trust me!"
Snape's upper lip—which had begun to twitch as though it was going to pull up into a sneer—suddenly stills. He looks back into Remus' eyes for a beat, then two, then three. Even though the whole school is staring at them right now, it's strangely intimate and Remus feels himself growing hot under the collar of his dress robes in a way that has nothing to do with dancing. Merlin, he thinks, how many rumours are there going to be about us by the end of the night? But he isn't going to be the one to break their gaze, because Snape looks as though he's finally getting it. Like he's found the truth somewhere deep behind Remus' eyes.
Then—to Remus' relief—Snape gives him the smallest, stiffest nod he's ever received and relaxes just enough to allow Remus to pull him closer.
Remus can't quite believe it but they're actually pulling it off. The laughter and clapping have started up again but it's different this time—appreciation rather than ridicule. Some of the more apprehensive faces around them have melted into smiles, as though they're relieved to find out that this whole thing has just been two boys messing about on the dancefloor and not some cruel prank.
Feeling even bolder now, Remus takes both of Snape's hands in his own and continue leading their made-up dance routine, grinning all the while. One look at the bemused expression on the other boy's face causes Remus to let out his own burst of laughter and he realises it's the first time he has done all night. The music changes once again, faster this time, and Remus keeps pace, flinging Snape around vigorously. It's silly and uncoordinated and they bump into one another more than once, but Snape doesn't seem to mind. In fact, once or twice he almost looks as though he actually enjoying himself. A couple of the Slytherins—Avery and Mulicber, Remus thinks—have started chanting Snape's name over and over as though they're cheering him on at a Quidditch match. Snape rolls his eyes at them, but Remus doesn't miss the pleased little smirk that flashes across his face.
As they turn around mid-step, Remus catches a glimpse of the friends he's left behind, still gathered around their little table. All of them look even more confused than Snape did moments ago. Catching Remus' eye, Sirius shrugs his shoulders at him and mouths, Mate, what are you doing?
Remus spins Snape around a second time by way of reply.
After he's been whirled back around to face Remus once more, Snape opens his mouth to say something—perhaps to voice his displeasure about the fact that Remus is the one in the lead—but he stops before the words come out. However, his mouth remains open as he gapes in shock at something just behind Remus.
Remus feels whatever that something is tap him on the shoulder, and when he sees what, or rather, who, that someone is, finds himself gaping too.
It's Lily.
"Room for one more?" she asks, smiling.
In an instant, as though he can't quite control himself, Snape wraps his arms around her and pulls her into a tight hug—one that Lily returns with equal enthusiasm. When they finally pull away from each other, Remus sees unshed tears swimming in both their eyes and maybe it's all the Butterbeers he's had, but Remus gets a little choked up himself.
"Lily I—"
"Shh," Lily says, bringing a finger up to Snape's lips, cutting him off, "less talking, more dancing."
And that's exactly what they do, forming a little trio on the dancefloor all by themselves. Each one of them is doing a different move, no one seems to be in sync with the music and there's not an ounce of coordination between them, yet somehow, it's perfect. It doesn't take long before other people are getting up to join them. (If Lily's doing it then it must be cool, right?) But the three of them close around each other, keeping their circle tightly-knit, their own little haven of silliness, laughter, and unspoken forgiveness. Remus hopes they stay in it long after the music ends.