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: Heartbreak Even
Author: Pocket Witch
Email: groovewitchkitty@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Summary: The sequel to Another Day Older. Severus & Remus react to the events of the previous story.
Disclaimer: What lovely boys, how I wish they were mine ... alas, I'm just sneaking them out from JKR's watch for a bit, getting 'em a little dirty, and sending 'em back home ... and making no money in the process.
Thanks: The lovely ladies who betaed for me! Barbara, Caytin, Lady Caetlyn & GodlessHarlot - ::curtseys appreciatively::

Severus watched the door close behind Remus with an entirely unwelcome feeling of helplessness. He certainly couldn't chase the man through the dungeon corridors as he was - half naked, the clothes he was wearing mostly destroyed. He was hardly in any condition to move quickly, at that; as he stood, shifting his weight from the worktable to his own frame, he winced sharply and realized that he'd be walking rather delicately for the time being, but hopefully by tomorrow ...

Tomorrow.

"I'm going to have a tomorrow," he said quietly, and was completely taken aback by the wash of relief, and - was that joy? - that he felt as he mused on the idea. However, before he had time to contemplate the thought that perhaps he had wanted to live after all, his pragmatic side took over and reminded him that it wasn't prudent to remain in the Potions Classroom in this state for any longer.

Slowly he gathered his ruined garments and did his best to clothe himself. There was hardly a functional button or zipper left anywhere, but he was able to drape his robes over himself satisfactorily. The walk back to his quarters was a short one, and since very few people were drawn to the dungeons in the evening, he encountered no one in the hallway. Once he was safely home, he headed for the bathroom. A warm soak would be just the thing to help soothe the soreness.

"Foolish werewolf didn't even realize he was hurting me," Severus thought as he began to prepare his bath. "Surely he would've been more careful if I'd asked. Of course, asking would've required I actually said something somewhat civil to the man, and why on earth should I have made any attempt to be civil to someone who had the audacity to want to save my life?" Severus stepped into the tub and slowly sank into the water, sighing as his aching body was submerged.

"Well then. I'll just have to speak with him tomorrow over tea." He stretched his legs out as far as he could. "Because he's sure to come by for our regular tea tomorrow. He'll be hellishly eager to see me. It's not as though rejecting his declaration of love and forcing him - the world's most peace loving werewolf - to the edge of brutality would perturb him in the least." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"Damn."

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Remus stared up into the shower, his arms hanging at his sides, the scalding water pouring over him relentlessly. He had been there, unmoving, for hours. Days. Or was it weeks? Maybe he could just stand there for months, letting the water sear away his upper epidermal. Maybe if he stayed there for years, the steam would cleanse him. He would emerge a pearly skeleton, his skin and viscera worn away, and he would no longer feel filthy.

Or maybe he would start to feel as if he were burning all over, and, finding the sensation rather unpleasant, would turn off the shower and dry himself off. Spending the rest of his life in the shower was hardly a sensible option. He had classes to teach, papers to mark, meetings to attend. Never mind that he was broken; he'd never been entirely whole to begin with, had he?

He stepped out of the bathroom and pulled a robe over his shoulders, wincing a bit as the soft terry brushed against his tender skin. He didn't remove it, however; he tied the sash around his waist and sat on the edge of his bed.

Tomorrow he would arise in the morning. He would go to breakfast, lunch and dinner in the Great Hall. He would teach his DADA lessons, and teach them well. He would go on. And if he happened to see Severus in the hallway ...

But he was not, absolutely not, ready to think about that. The prospect of continuing the minutiae of his everyday life was tolerable - dully comforting, even - but the idea of seeing Severus ...

He would just have to do a superb job of avoiding the man. For a while, at least. It shouldn't be too difficult, as closely as Snape stuck to his dungeons. Maybe he'd have the house elves bring his meals to his quarters for a few days, just to be safe.

Because he knew. He had known, since he had finished with Severus the night before. He couldn't take it. He could take painful transformations every month. He could take spending years upon years alone and shunned by society. He could even take the notion that he would probably spend the rest of his life relatively solitary. But he knew. He had to avoid Severus. He couldn't look into those eyes. Couldn't face up to the endless dark of them.

He wouldn't be able to take it.

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He most certainly wasn't surprised when Remus didn't come by for tea at the usual time the next afternoon. He hadn't expected it. Still, as he sat and sipped his own tea, staring at Remus's empty chair and untouched cup, the tiny pitcher filled with just the amount of cream that Remus took ... the truth of the situation became unignorable.

Remus wasn't coming back. Not for tea. Not for assistance researching his next DADA lesson. Not for those horridly irritating (If they were so damn irritating, Severus, why did you never turn him away at the door?) random visits that he sometimes paid, usually either right before or right after the full moon. Before, he would be edgy, overwrought, fighting - sometimes successfully - to remain relaxed, to keep his laid-back air. After, he was drained, ragged, anaemic looking. Severus would call for the house elves to bring up a hot meal, despite the fact that Remus always insisted that it wasn't food he needed ... what, then, was it that he needed? Remus had never answered that question.

"And why ever not?" Snape snarled to himself. "I most certainly would've welcomed his advances. He had no reason to think I might compound his fear of rejection. Surely I would never sneer at a whole-hearted declaration of ... love ... " He sighed and laid his head in his hand.

And what if Remus had answered, he asked himself. If he had looked up at Severus with those worn down eyes and said, "It's you that I need." Never. Never would Snape have believed him, not even when the man looked as though the energy to lie was a week's worth of sleep and square meals away.

Believed him? Never. But would he have taken him, drawn some twisted dead man's comfort in the weary werewolf's body? Used him, as he would've been sure that Remus was using him? As he would've convinced himself that Remus was using him, despite any and all evidence to the contrary? For he certainly would've explained away any hints that the man actually cared for him. He'd been doing just that for years, he'd become quite adept at it.

But if Remus had spoken ... and if Severus had taken solace in the man's desperation ... it would've resulted in the one sign that he would've been unable to explain away. The same sign that was so difficult for him to accept now. And maybe ... just maybe ... they would've been able to move forward from there.

"That's right, Snape, blame this all on him. If only the werewolf had spoken up sooner. If things have become terribly muddled, it's his own doing, his own responsibility for waiting, for being so determined to ... win my trust ... " He stood and began to pace restlessly across the room.

Remus wasn't coming back. And why would he? Except ...

The potion. He would have to come back for the potion. Except ... that he'd just given Remus a good six months' worth, wanting to give the man plenty of time to find another source after he was no longer available.

"Damn me for a coward!" He exclaimed in mixed frustration and rage. "What, exactly, is keeping me from going to him?"

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Apparently the answer to that question was Sirius Black.

Snape knocked on the door to Remus's quarters, softly at first and then steadily louder. When he received no response, he called out. "I know you're there. I need to speak with you." Silence. "Open the door, or I'll open it myself. Lupin!" Finally, he pointed his wand toward the lock. "Alohamora." It opened easily. "Damned werewolf doesn't even know enough to spell ward his lock," he muttered, and entered the quarters.

No sooner had he stepped through the door and closed it behind him than he heard a low, vicious snarling. He spun around to see a large black dog standing no more than two feet away from him and looking as though it would much prefer a hunk of Snape to a bowl of kibble for its dinner.

"Black, I ... bloody hell!"

No sooner had he spoken the creature's name than it lunged for him, its teeth catching Snape's hand and coming away with a bit of flesh.

"Don't hurt him, Sirius. Please."

Snape clutched his bleeding hand to his chest, and followed the voice with his eyes. Remus was sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the grounds, his profile soft against the waning light. The dog looked toward Remus and reluctantly stood down, but kept its teeth bared.

"A bit too late for that," Snape commented softly, wrapping his hand in a handkerchief.

"Leave."

Snape kept his eyes fixed on Remus, who had not turned from the window. Clenching his wounded hand into a fist, he floundered for words. "You didn't come for tea today."

Remus snorted. Black growled.

"I can't do this, Snape. I won't." The man on the sill spoke quietly, but with unmistakable resolve.

"Won't what?" Snape asked, his stomach clenching, fearing to hear the answer.

"I won't pretend that it never happened."

Thank GOD. "That's hardly my proposal. I - damn!"

Black had lunged at him again, not biting but clearly threatening. Now he stood mere inches from Snape, snarling, and Snape imagined that if he stayed much longer, he'd leave minus a few pieces no matter what Remus said.

"I told you to leave. It's best that you do so."

Snape looked up at Remus one last time. The man's face was still fixed on the world outside the window. He hadn't looked at Snape once. Hadn't, in fact, looked at Snape since turning away from him the night before.

"Remus." Snape spoke his name as though it was a precious thing. The man seemed to shudder slightly in response but did not turn. Black inched closer and snapped again, making it clear that Snape was to leave the premises - now. "You know where to find me. Please, Remus." He spoke the last words slowly, plaintively, but did not wait for a response, or for Black to take another piece of him. He turned quickly and opened the door. As he left and closed it behind him, he could hear the pounding of Black's body against it as he lunged one last time after the retreating man. He could hear the frustrated snarl that followed. And he thought he heard a hint of something that could've been a choked back sob.

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When Severus returned to his quarters, he found one of the school owls waiting for him, holding a small emerald green envelope in its beak. He took the envelope, which had his name written across it in Dumbledore's fanciest lettering. The owl flew off and Severus sat down, opening the envelope to find a card. Simple yet elegant, the picture on the front was of a sleek black cat with bright green eyes; she stretched gracefully and yawned, looking barely interested in Severus, before laying down in a decidedly imperious pose. Severus opened the card. Inside, again, was Dumbledore's handwriting, bearing only four words.

"Happiest Of Birthdays, Severus."

Muttering something about "damned wonky old man," he tossed the card aside and went to the bathroom to wash the blood from his hand and wrap it properly. He considered going to Madam Pomfrey to have the wound looked at, then thought better of it. She would want to know where he'd managed to obtain a dog's bite, and that might not be the easiest of questions to answer. If rumor spread that Black was secretly visiting Remus, well ... it certainly wouldn't make Remus anymore pleased with him.

Returning to his den, he glanced again at the birthday card. Oddly enough, perhaps it was his happiest birthday. He'd spent the last twenty years viewing each birthday as another tick closer to his final deadline. Yes, the day had been somewhat traumatic, but certainly it was preferable to death. Maybe things were horribly muddled with Remus, but maybe there was hope for them, given time.

Now, because of Remus, he had time to give.

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Apparently the werewolf had taken to hermitage, because he hadn't been to the Great Hall for a meal in two days. Severus knew, because for the first time in months he'd attended every meal served. Madam Hooch had begun to joke that perhaps Lupin and Snape were secretly the same person, since it seemed that they were never at a meal at the same time.

Apparently he hadn't missed a class, though. Of course not; he wouldn't.

Feeling like a teenager with a crush, Severus waited in the hallway outside of the classroom at the end of Remus's fifth year class. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on in there, but it was noisy.

"Bedlam," he mumbled to himself. "Foolish werewolf can't even control a classroom full of fifteen year olds."

Soon enough said fifteen year olds poured out the door, their faces flushed and smiling - until, that is, they caught sight of Snape standing in the hallway and glaring dourly at each one of them as they passed. This encouraged them to skitter quickly off to their next class, effectively getting them out of his way. Severus smiled inwardly.

As soon as they'd cleared away, he strode into the classroom, closing the door behind him, and stood across the desk from Remus, who sat gathering parchments. His eyes, which steadfastly avoided any contact with Severus, had deep circles collecting beneath them. Remus stared at the papers, stacking them carefully, and spoke in a low tone.

"Leave."

"Death Eaters are not known for their compassion."

Remus's eyes remained turned down, but his eyebrows quirked. Severus paused for a moment, and when Remus didn't speak, he continued.

"All of the Death Eaters knew about the curse." He paused again, and Remus sighed.

"If you're trying to make a point, is there any way you could make it and give rest to the disjointed, cryptic statements?"

"Do you have any idea how many people told me that they loved me throughout my twenties?" Remus frowned, and appeared to be considering. "I was considered sufficiently attractive when I was younger. That, however, wasn't the point to most of them - it was an opportunity for conquest, cruelty, for taking hold of an advantage and twisting it. Voldemort encouraged it. At that time, I was so desperate to be rid of the curse that I never turned down anyone who claimed to love me, no matter how repulsive I found them, and even when I was sure it couldn't be true. And there were a few times when I thought that perhaps it was true." Remus rested his head in his hands. "Obviously it never was. There was no way I could truly know, you see. Not until after. After, I always knew."

"You expected no different of me than you would of a Death Eater."

"What was I to expect? Was I to hand you my heart and soul with no reservations simply because you've attempted to befriend me in the past year, after two decades of hostility?"

"The hostility was never mine."

"It may not have come directly from you, but you were a silent party to it. Even if you had nothing to do with ... that incident ... you never discouraged your friends from the other, supposedly harmless pranks. Or the insults, or the rumors."

"I was a teenager. And I apologized for all that."

"Oh, of course, you were young! And you apologized! That makes it all go away. Excuse me, my mistake, you apologized for the years of torment - "

"You were hardly a paragon of kindness to us in those years."

"Did I have any reason to be?"

Remus started to answer, then stopped for a moment. "How, exactly, did we come to arguing about offenses that are over twenty years old?"

"How, exactly, did you come to think that you could barge into my classroom, declare your love for me, and win my trust all in one evening?"

"I was trying to save your life."

"Yes. And you did. I know that now. How could I have known that then?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't have done it?"

"I'm saying you needn't torture yourself so over my ... reaction to the situation." He looked at Remus; the man's eyes were closed, his fingers tangled in his own hair. After a moment of silence, he continued, speaking more quietly than before. "You of all people should realize that I don't trust easily. I can't. I've never been allowed to. Perhaps my behaviour was unforgivable, but I'm not sure what else you could've expected."

Remus said nothing, did not move. Severus sighed, and walked to the door, putting his hand on the doorknob. "If you truly love me, you must have some understanding of me."

He watched Remus for another moment before opening the door and sweeping out into the hall, closing it behind him.

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Severus made no effort to contact Remus in the three days between their conversation and the full moon. As a result, they did not speak at all, and the two times that their paths crossed, Severus merely grazed Remus with his glance, checking to see if the man was looking at him. He wasn't.

The first day after the full moon, as Severus was settling in for his usual tea, there was a knock at the door. Moving quickly, he rose and went to answer. Standing on the other side of the door was Remus, looking not just weary but outright exhausted, his bloodshot eyes focused on the floor.

"Remus. Come in." Severus stepped out of the way, allowing Remus to enter his quarters.

Remus raised his eyes to survey the den. His eyes caught the chair from the office, the extra teacup. "You knew I was coming."

"No." Not eager to admit that he'd been preparing for tea every day as if Remus would be there, he left it at that. Nodding, Remus fixed himself a cup and took his usual seat as Severus resumed his. Sipping his tea and watching Remus stare down into his cup, slumped in his chair as though his entire body were too heavy, Severus frowned. "You look horrid. I'll have something brought up for you to eat."

Stirring his tea idly, Remus spoke in a near whisper. "It isn't food that I need."

For a moment Severus froze, fear closing his throat, feeling as though he were on stage and had forgotten his next line. "What, then, is it that you need?"

Remus raised his head, and looked into Severus's eyes.

Severus felt, paradoxically, both incredibly relieved and incredibly nervous at the same time. As soon as Remus's eyes met his, he felt an overwhelming relief, knowing that if Remus was willing to look at him that way, then there was at least some hope. At the same time, he felt as though he were being tested, and he tried to conjure up the warmest expression he could manage. It was difficult; he wasn't well practiced in such a countenance.

"I'm still furious with you."

"As well you should be."

"I want to rage at you, but I'm too tired."

"A few hot meals and some rest, and you should be up to raging. A day or two at the most."

"Since when have you been so maternal?"

"Since you bothered to notice."

The tiniest notion of a smile appeared on Remus's lips. Severus took a breath and decided to press that advantage.

"You never have answered me. What is it that you need?"

Remus's expression turned somber again, and Severus wondered if he'd made a mistake. The two sat, still not breaking their eye contact, in silence for a moment.

"We're not alright, Severus."

Severus started to reply, but bit his words back and instead simply nodded shortly.

Remus's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Not yet."

Severus, at last, felt himself begin to relax. Atonement was not a new concept to him. This was familiar ground.

"Maybe the raging will help?"

Remus nodded. "Perhaps. It'll be a start, at least."

They sat quietly, drinking their tea in a relatively comfortable silence for several minutes. When Remus's cup was empty, he set it aside and rose from his chair. Severus stood also, and, as they stood facing each other, Remus spoke.

"What I need, right now, is you holding me for a moment. Then I need to return to my quarters, where I will sleep for the first time in a week."

Feeling a bit wobbly, Severus stepped toward Remus and opened his arms. Remus practically fell into them, leaning his head against Severus's chest as Severus wrapped his arms around him, the shorter man almost disappearing within the black robes. Neither man was unaware of the fact that this was the first time they had ever touched each other without hostility.

They lingered that way, Remus allowing himself to be comforted by the arms that enclosed him, Severus holding on as though this embrace were meant to make up for all the years of anger. Or perhaps just for that night last week. Best to start small, he thought, but squeezed a bit tighter.

When they parted, Remus looked again at Severus, and his face, though still exhausted, now seemed much calmer.

"Same time tomorrow then, Severus?"

"If you must, Remus."