You told me to work it out with him when I first got here.
[ There's only a brief delay before the next bit, for what that's worth. ]
Sorry. Defensive. Ignore me.
It was the best we could manage under the circumstances. I didn't have time to go back for the portkey & I wasn't sure I could make it to the labs. Moving out of the way & putting up what wards we could seemed less risky. I'm not planning to make a habit of it. If you'd like me to describe how worried about it I was beforehand, I can, but I assumed you wouldn't care.
If there's ever anything that would convince you to let me bring him along, though, I'd like to.
We'd all like a lot of things out of life, Lupin, but bringing someone unaffected along to a werewolf transformation is the desire of a madman at best. I don't care if he turns into a dog. I've experienced him as a dog and he nearly took my arm off. Even if you have your own mind, he's clearly half animal, and we don't know if he might accidentally provoke a reaction you can't control. What do you want me to do when that happens? Does that situation make any sense to you? Do you think anything through, or are you just clinging to sentimentalism?
Working it out with him means making him understand and behave, not caving to idiocy. You're a grown man.
You know it's stupid, Lupin. You cannot be that deluded.
You were used to him. Past tense. When you were a child, in a setting that was unchanging and familiar, before you had been through a war, before your deepest instincts grew hateful enough to try and kill him on sight in the middle of an alien landscape. What happens if a loud noise distracts you and you snap? What happens if you fall asleep and wake up forgetting where you are? It only takes a second. A heartbeat. You know this.
There is so little about this that can be controlled. Do not ask me to validate your desire of throwing another variable into the wind. I will never sign off on it. What do you want? For me to threaten not to help you? To ransom my aid? I can't do that and you're well bloody aware.
I don't need you to sign a permission slip or think it's a good idea. I need the wards to allow a dog through & for you to say it's on our heads.
[ He's more unsettled than he's letting on, of course, very sulky, probably pulling threads loose in his jumper during the between-clauses typing breaks where he squashes the urge to both argue and apologise at great length. Severus isn't his professor, why does he feel like he's fifteen and someone is Very Disappointed. ]
[ Maybe if Lupin stops acting like a child, Severus will stop treating him like one-- or maybe not, because treating him like an adult has demonstrably been a mistake.
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[ There's only a brief delay before the next bit, for what that's worth. ]
Sorry. Defensive. Ignore me.
It was the best we could manage under the circumstances. I didn't have time to go back for the portkey & I wasn't sure I could make it to the labs. Moving out of the way & putting up what wards we could seemed less risky. I'm not planning to make a habit of it. If you'd like me to describe how worried about it I was beforehand, I can, but I assumed you wouldn't care.
If there's ever anything that would convince you to let me bring him along, though, I'd like to.
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Working it out with him means making him understand and behave, not caving to idiocy. You're a grown man.
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You were used to him. Past tense. When you were a child, in a setting that was unchanging and familiar, before you had been through a war, before your deepest instincts grew hateful enough to try and kill him on sight in the middle of an alien landscape. What happens if a loud noise distracts you and you snap? What happens if you fall asleep and wake up forgetting where you are? It only takes a second. A heartbeat. You know this.
There is so little about this that can be controlled. Do not ask me to validate your desire of throwing another variable into the wind. I will never sign off on it. What do you want? For me to threaten not to help you? To ransom my aid? I can't do that and you're well bloody aware.
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I need the wards to allow a dog through & for you to say it's on our heads.
[ He's more unsettled than he's letting on, of course, very sulky, probably pulling threads loose in his jumper during the between-clauses typing breaks where he squashes the urge to both argue and apologise at great length. Severus isn't his professor, why does he feel like he's fifteen and someone is Very Disappointed. ]
& those aren't my deepest instincts.
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[ Make that twelve. After a moment to grow less surly: ]
All right.
Thank you for the rest of it.
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There is no response. ]