WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving consenting adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

Title: Eyes Wide Shut
Author: Elefwin
Email: elefwin@narod.ru
Rating: R
Category: Drama/Angst
Summary: They say love is blind... or is it? Or is it love? Severus gets a long moonlit night to sort the things out. Alone '-)
Disclaimer: Rowling, Rowling, ROWLING is the Master, and we're not related [sigh].

I remember you. Your body in my arms. Your body washed in moonlight. The way light plays on your skin. The way your skin tastes on my lips. I remember your body by heart. I could repeat its lines with my eyes shut. I know it all too well, every tendon, every bone, every scar - it is like a map to my hands. To my expert hands which can rack, or soothe, or plead, anything to take you over the edge... A map had never concealed more.

You are too good at this, both maps and secrets. And I am too curious still, even if I know too much of the things I wish I could forget. Even if I know some doors should never open. Even if you taught me the very first lesson in this.

I may take it, read it, claim it and mark it, but one night in a month changes everything. It claims more than I ever had. It takes you where no one else can follow... It changes you. Isn't it foolish, to believe that a frail combination of herbs, water and honed skill can help it?

I hand you the usual dose, and you make a face, as usual, at the smell of the brew. Why the hell everything in this world tends to become a ritual? No, it does not... Just a month - a few weeks! - ago I would put the goblet on the table and leave as soon as possible. I touch your slender hand, thinking of amazing powers strong enough to overcome my basic fears. Because tonight I want to stay.

What is it, the faintest tremble in your fingers? Your pulse counting minutes left before moonrise or something more? Always more...

I want to scream, I do not make a sound. I want to touch your heart, I let go of your hand. Why are you staring at me like that?

Your fingers close around my wrist, and two frantic beats race together.

- Please leave.

I shake my head no.

- Go. - There's a rasp in your voice, just like scars on your skin.

- No. Please.

I am not good at begging. Not at all. I wind up pinned to the door, never seeing that smooth move. Why am I not afraid? Not seeing much more than my pale reflection in your darkened eyes. It's like a phantom pain, a pale reflection of what you could do... But certainly not this. You kiss me.

You kiss me hard. What a strange kiss. Your hands are pushing me away, while your lips... Your lips and tongue are cool from the potion. Your kiss feels like a gulp of cold water, smothering any desire... I could have... And when I can breathe again, I inhale this chilly early winter which becomes you.

- Get out, Severus. Now.

Palms on my shoulders push a little bit harder, just enough to open the door. I manage to see - regret? - vicious amber flickering in your ever so calm eyes before this solid oak construction separates us.

You put a spell on it, right, as if somebody would try to break in tonight. It's a challenge worth a try. Why should you be so good at Charms?!

What am I waiting for behind a door that will not open, no matter what I do? What am I waiting for, while my fingers absently draw patterns on its surface, rough and smooth at the same time, until of all senses remains only the sense of touch... again.

I feel my way back to the dungeons. I don't want to see the moon sneering at me. Tonight I don't feel like sneering back... One night a month I run, run back to my safe shadows.

I remember your body by heart. I know it better, perhaps, than you do, which you know. May I wish for more? More of you? Who am I to be allowed into your soul?..

A werewolf soul, who in his right mind would ever want that?

By hell, this is unfair! You can slam a damned door in my face, but you also lend your soft voice to my thoughts. Ah well, I'll think then. I will listen. Tactile memory is a great thing, it keeps one's head clear...

One night I won't run. One night, perhaps, you will let me in.

If only you come back tomorrow.