Almost.

If there was a single word that he could use to describe his relationship with Severus Snape, that would be it. The romance that almost was.

The first time they had been close had been back in school, when they had been too young to know but old enough to feel. There had been a mutual fascination between them, a pull strong enough to make breathing quicken and heartbeats race whenever they were in a room together. Remus had not realized it at the time, but it had been the inner darkness, the alienation in both of them that had drawn them together, as though their hearts and souls had sensed their sameness.

Unfortunately, his friends had sensed it too, or at least had noted the effects. The fact that Severus had been following them, curious, jealous even; although in truth he had been following Remus, risking even the taunts of Sirius, James and Peter just to be close to the object of his fascination. And, in the true fashion of boys staking their territorial claims, James and Sirius had staked theirs... over him. The humiliation of Severus - and Remus' inability to to stand up for him - had pushed them apart.

That particularly "almost", however, hadn't been the last.

The next had followed quickly. Still drawn together despite Severus' anger and Remus' guilt, the following year they had talked - really talked - about things. About how Remus felt that he had to cling to his friends, because they were the only ones he had. And about how Severus felt pulled even closer to a looming darkness, how being in Slytherin was drawing him into a web of events that he couldn't control or escape.

They wanted to talk... and they wanted to touch one another, too, hands clasping each other's as their eyes had met. But it had been too close to the moon, too close to his madness, and Remus had smiled, asking Severus to wait. The scowl on the other boy's pale face had assured Remus the Severus wanted it as much as he did, and he had pressed his lips to Severus' cheek, asking him to meet him the following day.

Only when the following day had arrived, it had nearly been too late. Severus had come looking for him, to try to woo or cajole him into not waiting even a single day... unfortunately, instead of finding Remus, he had found Sirius instead. A falsely sympathetic Sirius, whose jealousy had pushed lead him to direct Severus to the Shrieking Shack, where Moony-not-Remus had been. Severus would never understand that the howl with which he had been greeted was not the furious one of a predator recognizing prey, but the joyous sound of a wolf recognizing its mate.

Almost.

Years had passed before the next time, and Severus had been far more difficult to woo. But the attraction had still been there, when Remus had returned to Hogwarts, and their slow dance towards completion had taken months. Stolen glances and almost-touches which had reminded them both of twenty years before. A long, painfully slow and awkward building up of trust, which had culminated that night in the Shrieking Shack with Severus feeling even more betrayed than he had before, leading to him betraying Remus in return.

A short separation followed, a year in which they both had time to think about what had occurred. Then they were thrown together again, with the awkwardness of Sirius and Harry between them, keeping them apart although the pull between them had somehow strengthened. Perhaps it was the looming spectre of death, the weight of fate pushing down on them, squeezing them both and causing their edges to expand and seek each other out the way that drops of water pressed between two sheets of glass would.

Whatever the cause, the attraction was still there, infused with the kind of urgency that war and fear and pain gives to events perceived by men who have too often been the victims of circumstances they could not control.

Then Sirius was dead, gone, lost forever, as much a victim to outside forces as Severus and Remus had been. Only his almosts were all done now.

Almost.

Remus stood in his room in 12 Grimmauld Place, staring out the window at the rising sun. He was still dressed, not having even been to bed that night, instead pacing the floor restlessly, back and forth, back and forth, as though he could stay in one place and outwalk the pain. It wasn't possible, of course, and he finally stopped as dawn lightened the sky, signalling the arrival of another day that would bring him no more answers, no more assurances than any day before it had bothered to do.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, a heavy, tired tread, moving slowly past his open door. Or not quite past, for they stopped, before a soft creak sounded, as his door was pushed further open, and then the footsteps entered his room.

He knew who it was, could sense it with every fiber of his being. Standing behind him, silent and unmoving, like the shadows he could meld into from the long practice of being a spy.

Remus remained quiet, afraid to say anything lest Severus spin on his heel and leave, as he had so often before. Yet if he said nothing, the same thing would happen, and Remus would be left alone again. As he always was.

Merlin knew, he was weary of it.

The werewolf opened his mouth to speak, not quite certain what he wished to say, only knowing he had to say something. That was when a long-fingered hand touched his shoulder, somewhat hesitantly, and the words were there in his mouth before he realized it.

"No more almosts, Severus. Now, or never, as you decide... but I am through with almosts between us, tired of 'maybe someday' ruling my life."

He braced himself, waiting for the hand to fall away, for the footsteps to retreat and leave him to face a day that finally had an answer... that answer being 'never'. Therefore he was surprised when it didn't happen, and the hesitant touch became a firm grip, as strong, warm fingers clasped his shoulder in a grip that was just short of painful.

"Very well," came the Potions Master's deep voice. The hand on his shoulder moved him, turning him so that they faced one another.

Intense black eyes met amber for a long, searching moment, before Severus took a step closer. His pale, slender fingers came up, brushing across Remus' lips, before moving to his jaw. They paused there, feeling the potential continuing to build between them, close enough that their breaths mingled in a warm exchange. Slowly Severus leaned closer, while his fingers pressed lightly, tilting Remus' face minutely. Lips a fraction of an inch away, close enough for Remus to taste. Almost.... almost...

Now.