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𝚇𝚇𝚅𝙸 >> 𝙰 𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁'𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙵𝚄𝙻 𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴

< 2 MONTHS, 2 WEEKS >

Once the tears have dried from his skin and he's separated his face from the sweet fabric of Lupin's sweater, Snape is already pacing the room and caballing. Perhaps the meltdown cleared his head, because now a domino effect of thoughts have begun to casually spill out of him while Remus merely watches and listens and accepts.

"Why would one wish to institute strong bonds with their students in ways that may benefit a personal gain? Horace Slughorn was always one for elitism and never one for legitimate connection; with my own eyes, I noticed it. You saw it, even, and you were barely his favorite. Everyone knew, whether they were on the wall or not, the nature of which he cared," he spits out as quickly as he can. "Of course he cared for his students, but did not care to know them. Why did he seek such tenacious rapport with his classrooms? Why did he go out of his way to be the favorite professor?"

Lupin looks mislaid there, standing in the corner of the room. "Pride?"

"Safety," Severus corrects. "Insurance. He wants you to think that it stems from his own ego. He's set it up that way. The man is, alas, decently clever; he is aware of what will work and what will not. He has records of what can and cannot keep him away from all eyes of embryonic scrutiny."

Remus furrows his brow. "What are you getting at all of a sudden?"

"Who would know to ask me for tips on Polyjuice?" Severus asks rhetorically. "Who would know that I would have information on an unwonted ingredient not used in the school? Who would know that a dragonfly thorax is a recourse that even exists when nowhere in Hogwarts do we promulgate it or give specific enchiridia in a book?"

"Peritus said he was in New York."

"Peritus is shagging him, Remus."

Remus does a double-take. "She— Severus, what the hell—"

"She's covering his tracks," Severus decides. "Because she knows. Somehow she's aware and... helpful to him."

"Are you accusing Horace Slughorn of the Polyjuice incidents?" Remus asks in entire chariness. Snape goes on, moved not by his reaction nor comment.

"He knows potions. He knows watchwords to all commons. He knows the comportments of every student enough to somewhat get away with posing beneath a facsimile of their skin. He knows his way around the school, all the quieter corridors, all the nooks and crannies he can possibly hide in. He knows his way into the greenhouse. He knows where Sprout keeps her pliers; where I keep my jars." Snape becomes even more worked up as he speaks, feeling as if everything is finally falling into place. "And he has motive. He's a coward. He wants to be invisible and still wants to make sure his classroom is being run his way. It's his own version of protecting both his legacy and his students as if he's some sort of dog. He thinks I'm here to sabotage them. He's trying to stop it all, somehow, whilst inadvertently impeding them more in the process. Blinded by hatred and fear. A common side effect of disaster."

"So you're just... assuming it's him?" Remus asks. "So suddenly? You just started thinking about all the pictures and now they've led you to some sort of decision? This could be the case with any other professor. Why Slughorn in particular? This is a serious accusation, Sev."

"Because, Remus," Snape hisses, and pauses. "Rem. He happens to be the only one that has been mysteriously unaccounted for. But is it accurate that he is absent at all? How can we know for sure that he is... truly away? Hiding, perhaps, is more likely. Hiding in plain sight."

They exit the home now. Severus yanks the door shut behind them and it rattles against its frame. He points at the windows, the front step, the plants.