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𝚇𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸 >> 𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂 𝚂𝙽𝙰𝙿𝙴'𝚂 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳𝚈 𝙰𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶

< 1 MONTH, 4 WEEKS, 3 DAYS >

Thursday comes around with the adroit deftness of rain in April (although it is not April, which is most unfortunate as a fact and really does put a damper on most things that haven't been dampened already). Like clockwork, Remus stops by the office of Severus Snape to check for and replevy any lost items, although instead of leaving when the object of the day — his wristwatch, which is a more important thing that is best in this case to have back with immediacy — is given to his outstretched hand, he rather sits down in his usual seat across from Snape's desk and clasps it back around his wrist.

"So," he says with an air of finality to it, as if it is close at all to becoming a replete sentence. "Tonight holds the last few hours of eighty-one. How would you like to spend them?"

"Work," Severus says, having not even looked up from his papers yet.

"It's New Year's Eve, Severus," Remus replies. "Your students get time off and so should you. Put down your pen— I said put it— Don't look at me like that. I just got here."

"Don't. Test. My limits," Snape jibes back tauntingly. "You just got here."

Lupin takes in a lingering breath, staring him down from his side of the desk and waiting for a more statutory answer to his first question.

"You must long for some sort of escape from your responsibilities while you've got the chance," he prompts. "Like what if you escaped temporarily? Saw some sights? There's a spot in London I've been meaning to visit if you're looking for something to do. With me."

"Enlighten me, then," Severus drawls as he circles and marks a sheet below him and turns it over onto his reams of effectuated graded papers. "What sort of spot do you happen to be suggesting so eagerly? A spot of blood? Piss, perhaps? Both common to find on the streets of London unannounced."

"A spot of art. The National Gallery, precisely," Remus replies. "In truth, I just like art museums and I am going whether or not you would like to come. I merely invited you because perhaps it would be pleasant if you joined me there."

Severus marks up another paper and adds it to the opulence of others. "What sort of proposition is that?" he asks.

Remus smiles. "A fun one."

"Whether I attend or not will have nothing of weightage on your ambitions in the least," Snape remarks as he takes another piece of parchment to look over. "It isn't clear why it is so essential that you ask at all."

"Why is it — I've always wondered, truly, Severus — why do you do that to yourself?" Remus asks on a quick side note. "When I ask you to do things, you say something detached and self-effacing, like... like you're convincing yourself you aren't important enough to have any contentment. Is this why you don't like to do anything with people? Because, every bleeding second, louder and louder still, you keep telling yourself it's true?"

The shadows of the room are thick and swollen in a trice. They feel like ink, like they're drowning them both. Severus sets down his pen and sighs in aggressed ire, looking up at Remus for the first time since the man has entered his office. Lupin smirks and gives a nod of greeting.

"Hello, Severus," he says.

Snape's expression does not alter. "You want to go to the National Gallery. With me."

"Yes."

"And put off the travails I must complete."

Remus shrugs. "More or less," he says genially. "It's a special night. You've got from now until Sunday to get through it all, but until then, we might as well enjoy it while we have the opportunity in the first place."