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: Love to the Loveless Shown
Author: Sal
E-Mail: the_evil_lord_alexander@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Love used to torture and to torment, but can it be used to redeem?
Warnings: As ever this is NC-17 slash, and if you don’t know what that means, run, run away now. Possibly some spoilers for PoA, but not really.
Disclaimer: These are not mine - if they were action figures they would be…they belong to J.K.Rowling and Warner Brothers and those sort of people, not a short Welsh student with too much time on her hands and far too little work going on.

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~Now~

If you look at old pictures of Sirius Black a classically handsome man waves back; the man in the photograph is all straight Grecian nose, wavy hair that falls slightly below his collar, and dark, soulful eyes - puppy-dog eyes, they could be called. The man is tall and quite broad, good-natured but with a quick and sarcastic wit that can be seen lurking beneath the chocolate of those sparkling eyes. He is good-looking and if you look closely enough, your nose barely a millimetre away from the slick surface, you can tell that Sirius Black knows this. He has a confident air of a man that can meet everything face on, a man that you would not entrust with your life, and especially not your daughter, but one that you can implicitly trust to manage a respectable financial institution. Obviously, if you don’t mind the impromptu holidays and the pretty female secretaries in short skirts...

However, the Sirius Black of the present is a changed man - prison has done awful things to him, and these are reflected on his thin, angry and haggard face. He has escaped from Azkaban with his sanity because he knows he is innocent, and this helped him combat the terrible years that he spent incarcerated and isolated in the forbidding, Dementor-ridden bowels of the island prison.

Sirius Black, through the twelve years of his imprisonment, has developed a sixth sense for trouble or danger, especially when those he loves are in peril. Now, what he sometimes considers an affliction, is directed towards his godson, Harry. The guilt he feels in the fate of the boy’s parents means that he is even more terrified about the boy’s safety. If he knows that Harry was safe, Sirius can sleep easier at night, even if he does scream and whimper in his nightmarish sleep. If the child is protected and cared for, everything that he had to endure is a little less painful, a little less torturous.

This evening, as he sits in a cave with stalactites dripping lime-water onto him, Sirius Black is worrying; the tell-tale sign is the vertical crease that sits uncomfortably between his dark eyebrows and the way his thin fingers twist around each other as if they are mice wrestling, never stilled. In his mind, Sirius can feel something terrible coming towards the school, and he knows that it is after Harry. He has owled Dumbledore, who replied that Harry is perfectly safe and there is nothing to be afraid of. Sirius knows that he should be comforted - who will protect Harry better than the only wizard that You-Know-Who is afraid of - but there is doubt in his mind.

Sirius Black tucks the edge of his blanket under him and tries to sleep. Silvery moonlight filters through the cave entrance, and it makes him think of his old friend Remus, who runs with the moon.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

~Then~

Remus always thought that his trolley was going to crash into the ticket booth between platforms nine and ten, so he always closed his eyes and ran until he could scent the musty smoke from the Hogwarts Express and the almost sherbet smell of magic that cracked and fizzed in his sensitive nostrils. This year was no exception.

As ever, there were no problems and he was able to enter Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Remus always felt a little foolish about being so worried about the barrier not opening, but to worry about things was in his nature; he was sure that it was something to do about his werewolf status. His father, who believed in being punctual, had dropped Lupin at King’s Cross in plenty of time to load his heavy, battered trunk onto a trolley and push it to where the platform was hidden. The man never came onto the platform with him. Remus knew his dad became emotional and thought it best if the tears he shed for his youngest son were expelled in private. What the boy did not know was that the tears flowed because he, quiet, intelligent and slightly introverted, was Mr Lupin’s most beloved child. To see the last and most adored of his children, his ‘young cub,’ leave to go to school almost broke the old man’s heart with pain.

He opened his eyes, noticing that his father’s almost obsessional need to be on time meant that he had arrived just over half an hour before the eleven o’clock departure of the scarlet engine. The cargo of witches, wizards, assorted pets, trunks and broomsticks had not yet started to fill the small platform, so Remus was able to freely wheel his trolley down the smooth, worn stone to a carriage midway between engine and guard van. He manhandled his trunk onto the train (oh the strength benefits of werewolf status, he thought bitterly) and settled in the corner seat to wait for his friends. In his vantage position Remus could see the large majority of the platform, his keen eyes trained on those who were passing through the portal.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The first he saw was James, his untidy hair sticking up and an almost harassed look on his slightly tense face. James Potter was not the best-looking boy to have entered Gryffindor, but there was a certain chirpy demeanour that lent humour to his thin face, and those in the know knew how glorious his body, honed by years of Quidditch, was under his plain school robes. Lupin knew - images of slender, toned, creamy skin and callused gentle fingers sometimes haunted his dreams. *bad Remus, naughty Remus, one hundred years in detention for me.* His friend’s blue eyes were tired but jovial behind his round spectacles as he hauled his trolley along, looking for anyone he knew. His visage split into a dazzling grin when he saw Remus’ smiling face pop out of an open window.

‘Saved a compartment, James. Hope everyone gets here on time.’ God I sounded like my father when I said that thought Lupin.

‘Get here early as usual? It’s all very useful, you know - it’s always nice having a seat saved for our tired, aching bones. Give us a hand with this, Remy, there’s a mate.’ Together (well, it was mostly Lupin) the trunk was pushed under the seating and they both collapsed panting.

‘Sirius! SIRIUS!’ yelled James suddenly, and somehow managed to squeeze his head through the small window. Luckily it was already open. The dark-haired handsome boy, chocolate eyes gleaming with amusement, was able, to Remus’ relief, to get his own trunk into the compartment. He flopped down, head resting on one of Lupin’s thighs. The werewolf involuntarily closed his eyes. The warm, chocolatey smell mixed with the masculine scents emanating from Sirius constricted his throat with desire, as did the broad-shoulders, sturdy body clad in well-fitting Muggle jeans and a jersey that was a little too small. Must be strong, he thought. No wanting my best friends, even if most of the other people here want them too...

Why do my friends have to be so damned cute? And flirty. And popular and sexy and clever and ... everything! Remus damned them both, but he wouldn’t have changed them for the world.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘Ah, I always forget how comfortable you are, Remy.’ Black turned and started trying to fluff up Remus’ leg to make it extra snuggly. ‘Mmmm, nice to be back with my lovely friends. Even you, Jamie, you snoring git - I have a spell to stop that, so if you just...’

‘Hell no! You are putting no spell on me! Last time you did that did Pinoccious and my nose refused to stop growing whenever I told a lie for a week. And it had to be at the time I was trying to shake off that Hufflepuff girl. Every time I told her I was washing my hair, what would happen? Another half-inch on my nose, thanks to you. No more spells, thank you very much; especially as it is our last year at Hogwarts and contrary to popular belief I want to do well in my NEWTS.’

‘Ach James. You don’t need NEWTS with looks like that - with your body, my beauty and Remy’s brain we could go far, could we not?’

‘At least it wouldn’t be my body, James’ face and your brains, Sirius.’ Black threw a shoe at Lupin, which missed its target and flew out of the window. Grumbling, Sirius had to fetch it and spent several moments amusing himself by sticking himself to the glass with his open mouth. James threw a peanut at him, and Black, not wanting to miss out on any food, came racing back in and swiped a handful. Remus closed the window with a thunk, pressing his forehead to the cool glass.

Sirius noticed that his werewolf friend was gazing out of the window, pointed chin resting on the knuckles of his long fingered elegant hands. Remus does have pretty hands, he thought irrationally.

‘Found anyone you fancy, Remy my love. Don’t you forget, you are mine.’ Fingers, squarer, stronger and larger than the ones he had been studying slithered jokingly up long thighs and were swatted away in good temper by Remus.

‘Nah. Snape has just got here and is looking as Slytherin as he can possibly get.’ There was a rush to the window at this point as James and Sirius tried to get a decent glimpse at their enemy.

‘Good God! I think he has washed his hair!’

‘Nah - was the light, Jamie. He’s still as slimy as ever.’

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Severus Snape marched past, eyes rigidly to the front and avoiding their mocking contempt. Tall, fairly thin and hawkish faced, black eyes full of rigidly held emotions and icy repression, he had an almost proud and dangerous air, though Sirius and James chose to ignore it. Remus did not. He could always detect the hatred that the Slytherin boy had for him and his friends, and he was aware that taunts and insults were stored up and remembered in a formidable mind. Snape had an intellect that many were jealous of. Indeed, his gift for Potions, which was taught by the sneering and downright terrifying head of Slytherin House, the Doctor, meant that this was one class he could beat the Gryffindors he despised. He also tried to ignore the faces that were being pulled by Black and Potter. The former was crossing his eyes, wrinkling up his nose and pulling his lips away from their teeth, while his friend was gurning wildly. Fools, thought Snape, his severe black robes swirling around his slim frame and stalking along the platform like the proverbial angel of death. He would make them pay; he would make them bleed and then he would destroy them.

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‘That Severus Snape is a card, isn’t he.’ Sirius resumed his position of lounging on the carriage seat, head on Remus’ lap. James tucked his legs under him and polished his glasses.

‘I dislike him intensely. There is something creepy about him; all that potions stuff and the way The Doctor likes him so much. The Doctor actively hates everyone except Snape. Wonder why...’ James trailed off, eyes dreamy. ‘Maybe he is a zombie - The Doctor would really love him them. Maybe it was he who reanimated Snape, who was killed in a freak accident with a hand grenade or something. That would explain why he is such a sod.’

Lupin smiled at his friend, who was always prone to flights of fancy. ‘I would have detected that, wouldn’t I James?’

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Out on the now busy and packed platform, pupils were trying to find spaces, shove trunks onto carriages and say goodbye to their parents all at the same time. It was five minutes to eleven, and the slight shiver that the animated engine caused had increased as the driver prepared to begin the journey.

Lily Evans raked her dark red hair out of her flustered face and tried to manhandle the trunk up the narrow steps of a coach mid-way down the train. It was heavy and she was having not much luck; she had to let go and it slid from the bottom step onto the platform with a resounding thunk. Sighing, she climbed over it, showing off her slender legs clad in fitted blue jeans, and decided to push the bloody thing instead.

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‘Pretty girl at ten o’clock!’ Sirius bounced up from his position and slid the compartment door open. As ever, he started commentating. ‘With an almost rakish grin, he smiles and turns to his companions and in his best Humphrey Bogart voice he says, "I’m off to help a broad in distress, care to join me boys?"’

‘Why are you always Humphrey Bogart? Why can’t I be him for a change, Black?’ James playfully punched his friend as he stood up to follow.

‘Well, Lupin is so pretty he has to be Lauren Bacall or Ingrid Bergman. I just am the god himself. You have to be Sam or a Nazi, I’m afraid.’ Dark eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘You’d look very sexy in the uniform...’

‘Shut up you bastard!’ howled James, pushing Sirius out of the compartment. Lupin followed less flamboyantly. He did love his friends, perhaps more than they could ever guess, but they did take the biscuit, the cookie and the pavlova sometimes.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘Well hellooooo Lauren Bacall! Remus Lupin. You have officially been replaced as sexiest person here and you therefore have to be Spencer Tracy.’ Sirius looked appreciatively upon the rather attractive redhead who was kicking her trunk rather violently. ‘I just love passionate, fiery ladies!’

‘Do you need help with that?’ Lily looked up startled, emerald eyes widening as she saw three very attractive young men smiling at her. At least the one with the slightly greying hair and tired, sweet eyes was smiling. The roguish, handsome one with the broad shoulders was grinning almost suggestively, while his black-haired friend was looking at her with a mixture of awe, desire and adoration.

*Oh dear. Remus could recognise the signs; James was going into crush mode.*

‘Could you? It’s awfully heavy and my parents had to drop me off.’ The one that she instinctively had thought was gentle and, well, nice, hooked his hand through the handle and pulled hard. The heavy box slid easily up the steep steps and into the carriage, where it was soon stored away. The handsome boy held out his hand, but it was knocked away by the hand of the one in glasses, who gave her a smile of such friendliness and mischievous chivalry that she took it with no qualms.

‘Come and sit with us,’ said the one who was holding her hand, and she said that she would love to, if it was alright by them.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lily curled up on the seat that James had been sitting in - the one closest to the window. Getting on the train had been a close thing, for already the rumble of rails was to be heard as they slowly steamed northward out of the belly of King’s Cross station.

‘We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?’ She turned her attention back to the young men. The handsome one, the one who had spoken, was reclining on the opposite seat, his head resting on the thigh of the sweet and surprisingly strong boy. She felt her eyebrow creep a centimetre up her forehead; this was interesting. The third was sitting in the lotus position next to her, elbows on knees and chin on interlaced fingers.

‘I’m Sirius Black, and I am more than pleased to make your acquaintance.’ He held his hand out lazily, capturing hers and kissing it as if she was a medieval courtesan and he a knight desiring her favours. She gave him a small smile, her eyes glittering in response to the outrageous gesture. Lily could tell that this Grecian faced, broad-shouldered boy was charming, but it didn’t mean it washed with her. Okay. It did, she thought. He was good-looking - damn it Lily, stop beating around the bush. She had to admit that he was gorgeous with that dark, sleek head and mirthful dark eyes that reminded her of a naughty but intelligent puppy - but Lily knew from reputation that he was a player - the number of girls he had snogged was rather high. Most of her friends had a small crush on him at some time during their tenure at Hogwarts, but she, being a Ravenclaw, and a studious one at that, had never had the opportunity to see him up close in the flesh. Pretty, amusing and extremely likeable but watch out for him, she thought. He has heartbreaker written right through him like a stick of Skegness rock.

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‘Hi! James...James Potter. Sorry - I didn’t catch your name.’ She knew who he was, of course she did. The Seeker for Gryffindor had his fans in other houses as well, and she had seen more Quidditch matches that she had wanted to because of her hormonal friends dragging her to watch him play. She also knew that he was head boy this year, and she grinned.

‘Lily Evans from Ravenclaw - I’m the head girl.’ Her grin widened as he smiled in delight. He was not attractive, but there was something appealing about those shining, enthusiastic blue eyes and animated face. Even with his slightly scruffy appearance and glasses he still cut an scrummy figure. And his body ... even she had seen the streamlined grace of his torso through his Quidditch robes, his long, lean legs gripping the broom and forcing it to do his will. Even she, known as a swot, a Mudblood and an ice maiden, had dreamed about those fingers caressing her face, and curving mouth pressing on her soft lips. His reputation as brilliant scholar and rebel also iced the already delicious cake that was James Potter.

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Remus didn’t want to break the moment up, and he tried to ignore Sirius’ fingers digging into his knee to point out what was happening. He could see perfectly well that both parties liked each other. They liked each other a lot - it was very sweet really. Lupin always wished that there was someone out there that would look him as lovingly in the eyes as these two young people were doing at the moment. Bloody James and Sirius always had the pick of the girls; he was quite resigned that no one noticed him much but that did deflect about any awkward time of the month questions. If they did not notice him, they would not notice his affliction.

Finally, Lily and James tore their gaze away from each other, and the red-haired girl held out her hand. ‘And you are...?’

‘Sorry.’ Remus blushed, eyes glancing downwards bashfully. He was naturally shy and always reacted like this to new people, especially if they were are pretty as Lily Evans. ‘I’m Remus Lupin.’ He looked at her under his eyelashes, going even pinker, while his ears started to feel as he could have fried an egg on them.

Lily shook his hand, eyes full of empathy. She instinctively liked this bashful unprepossessing young man; there was an air of melancholy that matched his gentle, slightly sad-eyed face that was endearing, and he was obviously the sanest of the three boys in the compartment. The silvering of his temples enhanced the air of quiet maturity, and it was obvious that he was the stabilising influence on the other two. Without Remus, Lily knew that Sirius and James would probably be even more notorious than they already were.

There was something else though, something deeper within him that Lily could sense, and she was curious enough to want to find out. After all, isn’t that what scholars did?

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the journey wore on, the fields of wheat morphing into downs covered with the white flecks of distant sheep, they all bought supplies off the cheerful and round witch who manned the trolley. They were soon swapping Chocolate Frog Trading Cards.

‘Not Merlin! I always get Merlin - it’s like these cards conspire against me or something.’ James gave a mock growl and attacked another box.

‘I’ll have him then - I haven’t got him and he’s my favourite wizard.’ Lily tried to extract the card from James’ grip, but the boy held onto it.

‘You’ll have to do something for it!’

Lily arched an eyebrow, green eyes flashing fire. ‘Name your price, Potter.’

‘A date.’

‘Sure thing. Now give me my Merlin.’

James gave her the card and the gentlest touch on the cheekbone with his lips.

‘Hey!’ Sirius sounded perturbed. ‘You never kissed me when I gave you my cards. I want a kiss and I want one now, Potter. You have neglected my love for you and I am dying of consumption and ... yes, my darling James ... I ADORE you! Give us a snog before I pop my clogs!’

‘I’d rather French-kiss a walrus with poor dental hygiene.’

‘I always knew you were a kinky so and so.’

‘Go on James, give him a kiss. I won’t mind.’ Lily giggled. Boys in their natural habitat - it was like a very strange version of Magical Creatures. ‘A man who can get in touch with his feminine side is shown to be more caring and loving towards their partner, or so I have heard.’ ‘

I like her! She knows stuff,’ commented Sirius to no one in particular. ‘Go on James - Lily told you too...’

After much mock-grumbling and protests about how kissing his best friend would be wrong and silly and gross everyone else out, James stood up, cleared his throat, straightened his robe and gave Sirius a smacker right on the lips.

‘Ah! I can expire in peace, now the world has, at last, given me my Jamie....toodle pip!’ Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, trying not to start snickering.

Remus poked him hard. ‘Sirius, if you are going to be dead, the least you can do is stop breathing.’ A long tongue poked out in response. ‘Ah well - at least it wasn’t the fingers.’ In response, the V-sign was flicked by both hands. ‘James, Lily? Do you think we have a case of rigor mortis here?’

‘Undoubtedly. He is definitely dead.’ Lily, would you do the honour of funeral rites?’ James graciously handed his new friend a copy of ‘Hogwarts - A History’ and they all tried to ignore the frantically shaking corpse as it tried not to giggle madly.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘Oy, Remy?’

No answer

‘Remus? You awake?’

Still nothing.

Sirius decided that the only plan of action would be to poke his sleeping friend. Poking, like all other excellent methods of communication, was quick, fun for both parties, and straight to the point.

Bogart would have understood this, thought the dark-haired boy. Bogart would have gone in there and poked hard and fast. He would know how effective the power of the poke is. If he had poked Ingrid Bergman properly, there would have been no sad ending for them in ‘Casablanca.’

Sirius suddenly came to the dreadful realisation how innuendo-laden his mind had become and therefore spoilt everything by giggling.

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‘Whuhsasosapffff? s’not mornin’ yet......’

‘Thought I’d pop over and say hello. Circulate if you will.’

Lupin’s pale face considered Sirius’. His friend was always more dangerous in the midnight hours, and with those dark eyes glittering with hidden daemons, Remus knew that he was up to something.

‘Well bugger off and get to sleep.’

‘Nope. Shan’t.’ Sirius crossed his arms and pouted. ‘Can I come in? It’s cold out here and I’m all lonely...’ A hopeful smirk flitted across his face. ‘You look lovely and warm and cuddly. Wanna cuddle Remy!’

‘No.’ Lupin cursed his morals, who really wanted himself to have a lack of Sirius contact.

‘Please? I will give you something...’

‘What can you possibly give me that will induce me to let you come in my nice warm cosy bed and put your freezing feet on my legs to warm up. I know you too well, Sirius Black!’ Remus knew exactly what would convince him, but squashed the thought down very thoroughly.

‘Ummmm....how about a Sickle, half a pint of Butterbeer and a pencil in the shape of a stick of dynamite?’

‘Sod off.’

‘Nope. Going to get in there if it’s the last thing I do.’

Remus swore. ‘Fine. Have it your way. My bed’s all yours.’ Grinning, Sirius climbed in. The latter was more than a little surprised when the werewolf hopped out the other side and pulled his robes on.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Don’t expect me to stay in there when you’re there. I have more sense than that!’ And with that Lupin swirled out of the room, hair silvery in the crescent moonlight.

Sirius shrugged and started to cuddle Remus’ pillow instead. It always smelled comfortingly of him. ___________________________________________________________________________

‘Bloody stupid git!’ howled Remus to the moon. He loved his friend, but he just was too over the top at two in the morning, and apart from that Lupin hated having his precious sleep disturbed.

Rain lashed the Astronomy tower, flattening Lupin’s hair to his head and soaking through his thin, worn robes. The weather was empathising with his mood; lightning sparked and spat across the lake, hitting the impenetrable surface while thunder growled and wind screeched. Across the sky, purple and steel clouds boiled, their silver linings ripped and scarred.

‘Bastard! Absolute bastardly git of hell and Hades and all other types of Underworld! You SOD! Why do you ALWAYS do this to MEEEEEEE?’

His words were torn from his mouth and tossed into the seething winds.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘I hate that man,’ hissed James as he tried to pursuade a rather large purple slug to go from a slime-crusted bottle into his cauldron without getting covered in gunk. The slug looked at him balefully, and he prodded it with his wand, trying to coax it.

Cue extra-fried crispy slug.

‘Potter! You is not havin’ another! Ah’m tekkin points ofas you for you brekkin’ dat slug! Fahve points fram Gryffendah!’ James only just managed to stop his tongue from sticking out at the Doctor.

Tall, scrawny and dressed in ancient white robes, The Doctor was not a medical man. Of indeterminate age, he was universally disliked by every student he taught; the exception being, for some reason, Severus Snape. He was known by both students and teaching staff as a someone not to be crossed and it was rumoured he had murdered a student in the previous century for chewing, then used the corpse to show how the dead could be animated as zombies. The Doctor had a bizarre liking for the voodoo, which extended from his mother who had been the greatest practitioner of the art on Haiti. In 1793 she had been awarded a certificate to prove how talented she was, which now hung in pride of place over the Doctor's fireplace, and he polished it every day.

He flicked his scarred wand at the crunchy slug and it started to move again. At least the Doctor was useful for reanimating animals that had accidentally been killed in Care of Magical Creatures, but Professor Dumbledore did not allow him the liberty of, what The Doctor called, ‘having fun’ with the more deceased members of the school.

Sighing, James got back to trying to get slug to where it was supposed to be. At least it could be worse. At least he was working with Sirius.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Remus was not the happiest person in the world when The Doctor, with a nasty glint in his cataract-greyed eyes, ordered him to partner Snape, but it did mean that there was more chance of a good mark on this experiment. The Doctor favoured Snape above all others in his classes, and he consistently received the highest marks. Part of Lupin had to admit that this was possibly because the Slytherin was extremely good at this particular class; Snape knew stuff about Potions that even The Doctor had to research before doing. However, as much as he tried not to dislike the Marauder’s nemesis, Snape never helped himself.

‘Anticlockwise, Lupin, otherwise the potion will separate,’ sighed Snape as Remus stirred the viscous pistachio liquid the wrong way. ‘How you were never kept down a year I do not know.’ He was busy carefully shredding Arrowroot into neat, exact lengths. ‘I mean, you can’t help being a little dim, but really.’ This was accompanied by another sigh, indicating how much he was suffering by having to put up with a werewolf, and a Gryffindor werewolf at that.

Lupin gritted his teeth and imagined he was stirring a deadly poison that he was going to force down the annoying Slytherin’s throat at the first chance he could get. On his other side he could see Jamie and Sirius having a giggle behind the Doctor’s back. Black saw his friend, saw he was looking over with general pissed-offedness in his eyes, and gave him a sly wink.

In the space between the flicker if Sirius’ eyelid and the next breath he took, Snape was *somehow* drenched in bright green liquid.

A small tic started to shiver next to the Slytherin’s clenched jaw as potion dripped off the end of his aquiline nose. Those who had witnessed Snape’s terrible anger knew that when the tic started jumping, you started moving. This, however, was rather difficult in the middle of a lesson. Remus sidled surreptitiously sideways to try and avoid the blast zone.

Snape’s usually pale cheeks looked as if they had been splashed with claret, ugly burgundy swept along his cheekbones and pooled around the curves of his flaring nostrils. Hard eyes had narrowed to obsidian slits of hatred framed by lowering black brows, and his fingers repetitiously flexed and clenched. Lupin was rather terrified when he saw that the Slytherin’s square cut, perfectly neat nails were incising half moons into the palms of his potion smeared hands; he had seen Snape livid on so many occasions, but there was a coldness about his anger, a terrifying calm that was far, far worse that his violent screaming matches with Sirius.

‘Would you excuse me, sir?’ The venom was unmistakable under the icy bitter tones.

The Doctor nodded. ‘You be seein’ de nurse now, Snayap. You is gettin’ real baaad reaction if you aint gettin da antidote.’ The potion they had been brewing was a cure for chizpurple infestations, but on humans the undiluted liquid provoked a rather painful skin condition.

Snape gave the now snickering Sirius and James the most evil of looks, and swept from the classroom, the first pustules starting to develop on his spattered face.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘I can’t believe you made that potion explode Sirius! If that stuff had got in his eyes...’

‘S’only Snape. Don’t matter,’ mumbled Sirius as he punched his pillow, trying to get some respite from Remus’ sermonising. He adored his slightly uptight, sweet and gentle friend, but God did he get on his nerves sometimes ... come on - when did Slytherins ever count as real people anyway?

Lupin scowled at him, looking a little like a British version of a rather less cool James Dean. Straight eyebrows slanted over his steel and silver eyes showed his displeasure, as did the tiny vertical frown line just above his nose. He was more angry than he had ever been; not only had he been unable to finish the potion properly without the presence of Snape and had received a low mark, but also he was dreadfully afraid that Sirius might get punished severely. After the incident in fifth year, Black had been told that any more dangerous stunts would result in his expulsion. The werewolf was praying that these series of events were not as worrying as they could be.

‘You could have blinded him! You could have been thrown out. Why did you do it?’

Sirius sighed, rubbing fingers across his tired eyes. All he wanted to do was have a nice, long and satisfying sleep, but Remus going on and on and on ...

‘You were looking bored so I decided to liven things up a bit...come on! It was funny the way he almost went schitz in the dungeon - his face was such a picture. Aw, come on mate. It WAS amusing.’

Lupin shook his head, grey and light brown locks falling forward. ‘Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do, Sirius. You could be out of here if he’s hurt. Just because of a stupid prank - why do you always do something like this?’

The dark boy sat up, eyes blazing. Something had finally snapped - something had finally become fed up with his friend’s sermonising. ‘I know what could happen to me, so you don’t have to keep rubbing it in Lupin! I know I could be sent back home but you know what? I’m looking in the bright side - unlike you ... how can you be so bloody eternally pessimistic about everything? You are never enthusiastic about anything! Anything! Just because I get a bit hyperactive sometimes you have to attack me for it. It’s like living with a fucking priest! I am forever looking over my shoulder and seeing you standing there, Mr. I must censor my friend’s every move werewolf! Sometimes, Remus, you just get on my tits, you know?’ With that, Sirius yanked the curtains of the four poster closed and pulled the sheets up over his head.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It hadn’t taken much for Remus to pursuade James to let him borrow his Invisibility cloak. The black-haired boy had already seen Lily that night, had already sneaked out of Gryffindor Tower and had met her in a disused classroom.

‘Why do you want it Remy? And where’s Sirius? He tends to be up for these midnight gallivants around the school.’

Lupin muttered something, but James let his non-committal go. He was still glowing from the feeling of his flame-haired goddess’ lips on his, the feel of her hands caressing the nape of his neck. He was surrounded by a bubble of joy, and nothing else, not even the obvious fact that his two best friends had fought, could possibly penetrate this.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It felt weird being invisible, thought Remus as he wandered towards the hospital wing, it felt very weird indeed. Although he had often hidden under the cloak on the Marauder’s night-time rambles, he had never really accepted the fact that no one could see him. Remus put this down to his heightened werewolf senses; even if James was completely obscured by the handy garment, there was still something that could allow him to ‘see’ his friend. No one could be completely hidden if Lupin was around, which annoyed his friends - they could not play practical jokes on him, which grieved Sirius and James greatly.

He also couldn’t believe he was doing this – he was going to apologise to Snape for Sirius’ behaviour. For the first time in their history at the school, a Marauder was going to admit that they had done something wrong to the Slytherin. Remus was wondering how he would take it.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Remus and Sirius had not been speaking since the latter had flipped and screeched what he considered home truths at his werewolf friend; this was relatively unheard of within their close group. Those outside their immediate friends were unaware of what had occurred in their tower bedroom, but the tension had got to most of students. Especially as ‘conversations’ tended to be more along the lines of:-

Remus – Sirius….

Sirius (reading a book) – Fuck off

Remus – For Christ’s sake, Sirius

Sirius – Fuck OFF!

Remus – Look, this is just childish…

Sirius – I said FUCK OFF Wolfboy! Leave me alone until you apologise for what you did.

Remus – For what I did? You were the one who half-blinded one of our schoolmates and gave him chronic eczema!

Sirius – Why are so worried about SNAPE of all people!

Remus – Because of what could have happened to you

Sirius – Well, it didn’t, did it. I’m still here, so can you cut the crap okay? Is that just a little too hard for you to do, huh? Going on and on and on about poor little defenceless Snape and how could you do that, you beast, and reminding me that I could be chucked out and how could I forget that!

Remus – Oh, forget it! I’ll never get it through that thick skull of yours, will I?

Sirius – You can call me thick and I know it’s wrong. I can call you humourless and you can’t refute that

Remus - … S

irius – See. Lost for words now, Lupin. Go and play with your new little friend and leave me alone in peace and quiet.

(Lupin storms out, robes swirling almost in sympathy with his mood. Sirius looks at his book, realises he has been reading upside down for the past few minutes, and shuts it with an exaggerated sigh. It is only then he realises that everyone in Gryffindor has been listening intently to their argument, but are now trying to pretend they weren’t.)

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lupin paced silently along the monochromatic corridor that led to the hospital wing, dappled in silver and starlight. His sensitive nostrils were detecting an unpleasant scent of disinfectant and the strange and mystical substances that were part of the school’s medicine cabinet. There was also a slight smell of coal tar. He hated hospitals with a passion he reserved usually for the love of his family and his own need to remain sane within the form that he took every full moon. They reminded him of a small child slathered in blood, screaming out for his parents and morphine, terrified into convulsions of the *thing* that bit him and even more scared of the tall, serious-looking wizards who talked about things like ‘registration’ and even ‘destruction.’ He may have been young when he was turned, but he was an intelligent lad, and he knew what they meant. Conformation and public acknowledgement of his condition, thus bringing shame and ridicule on his family, or the neat removal from existence of the boy named R.J.Lupin. His parents chose the former, chose the frustration and agony and pain of their son’s affliction, chose to cherish and accept the child who brought so much suffering to them, and he, in turn, adored them.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Pressing his ear and checking through the solid wood that there were no clicking foot-steps from the heels of the rather intimidating matron, he opened the heavy door just enough to squeeze through without removing the invisibility cloak, and slipped inside.

The smell hit him even more powerfully and Remus felt a wave of nausea churn his stomach. He had not been in a hospital since he was attacked - his werewolf status had come equipped with quick healing powers, but the memories still drifted around his discontented mind.

Here too was moon and darkness, and even with the cloak wrapped securely around him he, by nature, stayed well protected by the welcoming shadows. Bare feet trod lightly on the cold stone but Lupin was unaware of the iciness creeping up his legs. He was trying to compose what he was going to say to Snape rather than worry about freezing to death.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The werewolf’s eyes suddenly contracted sharply, pupils shrinking into a molten-silver-steel amalgam of iris as a faint light penetrated the thin folds of the cloak. The end cubicle was glowing faintly in the gloom, as if someone was holding a torch under the bedclothes and was trying to read.

Snape was, at least, awake. Lupin thanked a god he didn’t believe in for that. He had heard tales about how incredibly angry the boy became when he was disturbed during his rest and he did not want to have to contend with that and try and apologise at the same time. The Slytherin was a known insomniac and, as with all poor sleepers, he got extremely pissed off when he got woken when he was finally getting a decent night’s sleep. He has even blacked Lucius Malfoy’s left eye in temper after the blond menace had decided to see what would happen if he prodded him awake. Remus empathised. He hated having his sleep disturbed too because of the draining effect of his monthly change.

He carefully pulled aside the heavy grey curtain that separated the cubicle from the others and crept in.

The dark boy reclined slightly in his uncomfortable looking hospital bed, his knees crooked so he could rest his book on them and hold his wand, which was emitting a faint but clear shaft of light, over the creamy pages. Bandages wound up his arm from knuckles to elbows, and his face was spotted with the unmistakable silvery-red scales of eczema. They looked sore, as if he had been using his bandages to scrub away the itchiness. He looked gaunt in the flickering wandlight. Underlit, his face took on an almost inhuman form; the sockets of his eyes deepened, the hollows under his cheekbones darkened and his oil-slick eyes unreadable as they scanned and flickered over the pages of his text.

Lupin licked his lips, squared his shoulders, and thought about what to say. Nothing came to his mind apart from hello, so he knew that it had to be now or never. Taking a deep, calming breath he shrugged off the invisibility cloak.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

To his utter consternation Snape did not say a word. No sound came from his mouth. Remus had been expecting at least a shriek or a sharp gasp or something but nothing came from the Slytherin’s lips. Indeed instead of looking up, he ran a red-raw finger down the moth-eaten parchment and kept reading.

Lupin stared. He could not believe that this was happening.

"What do you want, wolfboy? Come to gloat at your enemy’s fall from grace and antisocial skin disease?"

"I’m…um…oh….um…"

"Spit it out, for God’s sake. The sooner you do the sooner you’ll be gone and I can do something more worthwhile that listening to you whitter on about nothing." Finally those obsidian eyes stared into the werewolf’s pewter, causing him to step back. In those impenetrable eyes was a mixture of disgust, loathing and utter contempt.

"I…um.."

"For crying out loud," muttered Severus, turning back to his book.

"Icametosaysorryaboutthepotionthingandstuff."

"Could you repeat that without merging every word into another please?"

"I came to apologise for the potion exploding."

"I have no idea why you would do such a thing. It wasn’t your fault…unless… you feel guilty, don’t you wolfboy?" A mirthless chuckle emitted from the Slytherin’s throat. "You want to say sorry so you can go back to being Remus Lupin, werewolf and Marauder’s bitch, and not have to dwell on this!"

"Bitch? What the hell are you on about Snape?" Remus was caught between a wave of denial, hatred and a terrible feeling that the scaly boy giggling before him was right.

"Potter and Black are the popular ones, aren’t they? You’d be nothing without them, nothing at all. You are just a sad, almost pathetic little bookworm who has to hang around stronger people than yourself to make you feel better. You aren’t brilliant, you aren’t charming, and you haven’t got people hanging off your every word. However, everyone seems to like you. Why? Because people don’t want to piss off the Gryffindor two."

"shut up, Snape…"

"Why should I – all I am telling you is the truth and you know it."

"shut up…"

"Why would anyone want to be friends with you, the werewolf, if they didn’t get anything out of it. You are their bitch – you do their homework, you run around after them picking up their pieces – and you do it so you can receive a morsel of comfort in that you are their ‘friend’ and they will protect you."

"Why do you have to bring everything down to your level, you bastard? Why?!"

"Because the world is a cynical and dark place, Lupin. I would have thought that you of all people would know that. I’m trying to open your eyes to it all before you are destroyed because of your trust and goodness and…" Snape broke off, frantically scratching at the eczema on his temple with the back of his bandages hand.

"You think I’m good?"

The Slytherin looked at him sharply. His eyes were narrowed but not by hate. There was something else lurking in the depths of those black eyes.

"Of course you are good. You are so good it makes me feel nauseous. Damn you, Lupin. You have no idea about anything, do you? You have no idea at all."

"What are you talking about?! Tell me!" Remus was totally confused by the turn of the conversation. One moment Snape was belittling him, the next he seemed to be complimenting him.

"Those innocent silver eyes and your face and the way you move and the tone of your voice – you have no idea what it does to people. You don’t see them staring at you, almost bewitched. You are blind, Remus! You can’t even see what you do to your best friend. The hunger in his face as you talk to him, the need, the desire. You drive people mad and you aren’t even aware of it." The dry laugh seemed to turn into a broken sob.

"Severus, I…" Lupin suddenly came to an epiphany. The first was that Sirius liked him. Really liked him. It felt a little unpleasant. The second thing was that … oh God, Snape liked him too…

"Severus, please don’t. I’m sorry – I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, really I didn’t." He sat awkwardly on the narrow bed and slid a comforting arm around the shivering Slytherin. "Please. I’m not worth all this, you know. I’m just … me. Just Remus Lupin." He didn’t like Snape at all, but he felt dreadful for having reduced the boy to such despair and had not noticed a thing.

"You are worth it though," mumbled Snape, looking with bloodshot eyes into the werewolf’s worried face. "You are worth every bit of pain and heartache that I’m put through. I said all that stuff because I wanted you to hate them, wanted you to leave them alone. If you can’t be with me, I don’t want them to have you. You are far too good and precious for them, and I can’t cope with seeing you around them, them touching you as if you are their property."

"Hush, Severus, hush." He pulled the boy closer, trying to warm the cold skin with his own body heat.. Then, a cool hand caressed his throat and wandered along his jawline, pulling his head down to where Snape’s surprisingly warm lips were waiting.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Severus, I…" gasped Lupin, breaking off the kiss suddenly. A crossfire of thoughts roared through his mind, This was too weird, far too strange and bizarre. He only came to say sorry, to try and bridge the chasm between the Marauders and Snape a little, but this? Totally unexpected.

Totally unwanted though? ___________________________________________________________________________

"I understand," sighed the Slytherin. "I should never have done that. I mean, what was I thinking? Why would you want to even touch someone like me? I’m not like you or your friends. I’m unpopular, even among my own house. I’m jealous, vindictive, arrogant, self-centred, have no morals to speak of …" He glanced up through dark eyelashes. "This is where you are supposed to say, ‘of course you’re not, Severus’ and kiss me. You won’t though. Dreams and reality are like oil and water, never mixing."

"I’m sorry."

"Stop apologising! None of this is your fault. If you’d flaunted yourself it would almost have been easier, but no, you try to blend into the background and you don’t see it makes you stand out more. Do you know what the ironic thing is?"

Remus shook his head, silvery hair falling over his forehead and making him look very young.

"When you do flaunt yourself – well, it isn’t really you, it’s the demon – I still want you. In the Shrieking Shack, all I wanted was for you to attack me; at least I would have been yours for a short period, even if I did end up dead at the end of it. Death would have stemmed the pain that I feel whenever I think about you or see your face, or dream about you. Love and death combined, isn’t that a noble ideal – very Romeo and Juliet, or Tristan and Isolde. To die in the grip of love is something few achieve, and I would have left this hellhole of a world secure in the fact that I had died for something greater than life, greater than anything."

The dark-haired boy interlaced his fingers and stared into space, face strained and pale in the faint wandlight.

"You love me…?"

"yes. now go and laugh about it to your friends."

"I’d never do that!"

The terrible, sickly smile was too much for Remus to bear, and he surprised himself by slipping his hand around the back of Snape’s head and pushing their mouths together. It was supposed to be a kiss of reassurance, showing that whatever has been said will not be repeated outside the walls of the hospital wing.

It was supposed to be…

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mouth on mouth, skin on skin, warm werewolf flesh on cool Slytherin. Gentle, chaste, almost loving. Snape pulled away this time. "Don’t toy with me, Remus. I can’t cope with it."

"I’m not playing with you Severus." Ebony clashed with steel and the bed-ridden boy could see that the one looking at him with such concern and worry was not lying. Far from it. Reaching up, Snape’s hand pulled Lupin down to him again, and their lips touch. Then tongues, almost shy at first, made the kiss into something more, something primeval.

"Should we be doing this…?" muttered Remus, suddenly, like always, having second thoughts. It was not in his nature to be reckless.

"Hell yes. And didn’t your mother tell you not to speak with your mouth full? Manners, Lupin, manners. Anyway, I always knew you Gryffindors were an ill-bred lot. If I had my way I’d…" Lupin shut him up by sliding astride the prone figure and kissing in reply. His tongue flickered into the cool cavern of Severus’ mouth, exploring. He had never kissed anyone in such a way and he found he was enjoying this very much. The involvement that it signalled, the trust between two people, he had never experienced. He was also conscious that his act was eliciting a moan of pure lust from the Slytherin. Lupin at once felt several things; awe that he was able to make someone react so strongly, and a sense of power.

Snape’s hands which were tangled in the greying hair slipped over the slender but broad shoulders hidden in severe black wool, and down to the tapering waist. His fingers traced patterns on the rough fabric as he responded, his own mouth duelling fiercely with the werewolf’s. His werewolf. Not Black’s, not Potter’s, but his.

"Yours!" gasped Remus, eyes closing as Severus’ surprisingly sharp teeth nipped at the heated and delicate flesh of his throat. His head lolled back, mouth opened in delicious pain and exquisite suffering, offering and submitting to the dark boy who suckled at his neck. Teeth lightly scraped over reddened flesh, fingers that had been caressing his lower back now pushing the dark material away, and slowly circling each vertebra before descending under the waistband of his regulation school trousers. Bringing his hands around, the Slytherin unfastened the buttons and drew the crumpling fabric down firm cheeks until the werewolf wriggled and the offending garment lay abandoned on the faded tiles of the floor.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Agonisingly, deliberately, Snape’s exploring digits encountered the first curves of Lupin’s ripe arse, and their slender lengths tested the firm musculature sheathed in the velvet of perfect skin. "May I?" The question was not even voiced before those wandering fingers brushed downwards, tracing the fine surfaces and flawless flesh, oh so gentle, exploring, ever exploring. Remus buried his face in the curve between Severus’ neck and collarbone, his breathing becoming more shallow, face burning with want and horror, fear and need. Unseen to him, the dark eyes of the Slytherin closed in supplication, and a smile of utter reverence flitted across those narrow and curling lips.

"Trust me…" the digits slipped into the dividing groove and parted the two tight globes. They crept into the darkened hollow, feeling textures changing, until one lucky finger found the puckered rosette that it had been desperately searching for. "Trust me, Remus…" It was gentle at first, massaging around the perimeter, allowing the boy to get accustomed to the thought of someone touching him ‘down there;’ the insistent but loving touch drifted over perineum, traced the crevice to the dimpled small of the werewolf’s back, but always returned to the needy entrance. The other hand slithered over prominent spine, feeling sinew and strength and surprising musculature, to stroke the silver hair away from the creamy forehead.

"please?" asked Remus, his words muffled in the cool pale flesh of his lover. "please?" Severus couldn’t hear what the boy was saying, but the urgency in the tone of voice was painfully obvious.

"Sure?"

"please?" That one word again, that one small word communicating all the frustration and agony and physical need from which the werewolf was suffering.

"As you wish, my wolf." His palm reluctantly broke contact with the perfect skin, causing Remus to whimper and arch back, trying to create the enjoyable friction that he craved. The Gryffindor was quietened by the hand slipping under his chin and raising his head, index finger stroking from angular cheekbone to curving jaw.

"Hush." The finger ran over the slightly parted lips, tracing the generous curves, before plunging deep into the welcoming cavern. The long and clever tongue flickered and swirled while Remus suckled at the digit, his lips forming an unbreakable seal. He glanced up through his eyelashes, to gauge the opinion of the Slytherin and the dark-haired boy, all dusk and starlight in the dinginess of the hospital wing, gazed back with ill-disguised lust. With a slightly obscene popping noise that bought a smirk to his mouth, Severus slid the now soaking wet finger from Remus’ scorching mouth, and smiled even more as the werewolf chased the finger with his tongue, getting a few more licks in before it was lost to him. When it finally disappeared out of range, the Gryffindor gave the most innocently daemonic smile, and snuggled his head back down onto Snape’s chest.

The hand, saliva dribbling down the palm to the narrow and bony wrist, repeated its earlier journey. It lay flat, the bandage covering roughly massaging the white cheeks for a moment, then wormed its way insistently between the globes of flesh until it again tickled the pucker that it had been tormenting. This time, the pressure was more insistent. Immediately the finger started to breach the tight ring of muscle, forcing its way into the dark and even tighter channel that lay beyond.

Remus gasped, warm breath disseminating onto cold Slytherin skin, and his hips, unbidden, slammed forward.

The digit was immersed to the knuckle now, still fighting to enter the virgin hole. Each push culminated in Lupin’s gasp and the thrust of his hardening cock against Snape’s thigh, which has slid between the naked ones of the excited werewolf. Slowly, creeping in millimetre at a time, the finger reached full stretch inside the now shuddering boy.

"More…more…" Remus pressed back, needing to be filled more completely, but Severus withdrew, crooking his finger as it slid out of the passage. As soon as he felt the ring of muscle resist against the bent knuckle, he drove back in. He could feel his lover’s jaw tense as the dance was repeated and Remus’ hands, one of which was buried in the Slytherin’s dark hair and the other laying flat upon his chest, flexed and rippled in sync to the actions.

Remus felt empty when Snape withdrew completely.

However, this was only to rearm, and the whimpers of want were replaced by the sighs of pleasure when both index and middle finger dived into the opened channel and slid and twisted and scissored, brushing against Remus’ prostate and making him see white. He couldn’t concentrate on anything apart from the sometimes painful but always stimulating and teasing fingers that tickled and stabbed and made him sob and keen and desire. Remus was not aware of his thrusting hips, grinding his painfully hard cock against the raw silk of Severus’ pyjamas and leaving sticky streaks of pre-come on the expensive cloth. He was unable to hear the filthy things that Severus was saying he would do, could not comprehend the pain and pleasure in his lover’s face when hands tightened with each stab of the fingers and dug fresh bleeding crescents into now crimson flesh. Remus couldn’t see the ecstasy that glinted in those black obsidian whenever his arching body dragged over his lover’s achingly erect penis. Nothing mattered apart from the glory of those roughly exploring fingers and the agony of the pleasure.

Again they were taken away completely, but the boy continued to thrust against his lover’s thigh, eyes screwed tight.

Hands tugged at his thighs to urge his hips higher up the snaky body, and he writhed forward, pressing as much of his flesh to the skin of the Slytherin, making them both gasp…hiss…exclaim…until he was face to face with his dark lover, gazing into black eyes that were greyed by desire. Then he was on his back, the angles had changed, and he was being thoroughly kissed by a young man whose hair, which was enveloping them both like a black mist, smelled of coal tar and medicine and jasmine.

It was automatic; Remus wound his long long legs around Severus’ narrow hips and silently gave him permission.

Below him, huge-eyed, tousle-haired, willing, lay either salvation or damnation. Damp mouth parted, healthy pink tongue licking lips in an unselfconscious gesture. Silvered and polished by the waxing moon. Perfect. His.

Nothing could hold him back, and he slammed forward faster than he planned to, just to see the angelic face crumple with pain, pewter eyes become damp with tears. He sheathed himself inside the clinging passage, feeling muscles clamp upon his hardness, trying to milk his of his fluids, and the look on the werewolf’s face was not of agony, but of utter dissipation. Eyes glittering with newly found ecstasy narrowed, generous lips curled back from gritted teeth. Hands, helpless on the ends of wrists that here being held above the silvering head, impotently clenched, turning knuckles white with stress. Beneath him, the debauched angel of his dreams gasped and moaned and brought hips up to meet his.

Remus managed to free one arm, and his fingers ran across hard cheekbone and caress milky throat. He pulled Severus’ head towards his, lips touching first in reverence then in open-mouthed lust. As they probed each other’s mouths in wantonness, the Gryffindor’s hands wandered down the narrow back of his lover and cupped his firm buttocks. Copying what had been done to him, the werewolf’s fingers massaged, explored and finally discovered Snape’s own entrance. Not bothering to lubricate, he pressed the tip of his dry finger against the tight arsehole and the head popped in, causing Severus, offguard and not expecting, to lose his balance and collapse fully on top of Lupin. As Snape continued to thrust, writhing between the finger and the hot, dry passage he was buried in, the added closeness massaged Remus’ still throbbing cock.

As it hit them, a tsunami that broke so violently and passionately that is washed rationality away, they screamed.

[Author’s note – song used is Ever Fallen In Love With Someone… by the Buzzcocks]

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The record player; state of the art and a Muggle device, is switched on at the wall, causing the tiny scarlet

(blood)

LED to sputter into life. A hand, shaking, digs around in the chaos on the floor and places one of the only unsmashed discs onto the turntable, lifts the arm, and places it onto the record. The hair point zippppppps across the grooved plastic, and is hurriedly removed. Fingers, grimy and nail-bitten, brush ineffectually at the deep scored scratch that mars the disc, and tries again. This time…

Guitar and drums kick in, and the fingers start to tap along, slightly out of rhythm. The tune they beat out is raw and emotional, music written by someone scorched and tortured by love. As lyrics drift into the consciousness, a baritone voice, once pleasant but now tormented and agonised, whispers along…

You spurn my natural emotions
You make me feel like dirt
And I'm hurt
And if I start a commotion
I run the risk of losing you
And that's worse

Losing you. That’s worse.

James and Lily. Lost forever.

Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with

Love. Doesn’t have to be sexual. Never fall in love. You just get fucked over when you are deserted either in death or in antagonism or in betrayal.

In the background, a young child starts to wail.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now… Remus always thought that his trolley was going to crash into the ticket booth between platforms nine and ten, so he always closed his eyes and ran until he could scent the musty smoke from the Hogwarts Express and the almost sherbet smell of magic that cracks and fizzes in his sensitive nostrils. This year was no exception.

As ever, there were no problems and he was able to enter Platform Nine and Three-Quarters without anything awful happening to him. Remus always felt a little foolish about being so worried about the barrier not opening, but to worry about things was in his nature; he was sure that it was something to do about his werewolf status. His father, who believed in being punctual, had died just before the war had ended, and had imbued his youngest son with the sense that one must never be late. He could remember that his father never came onto the platform with him. Remus knew his dad used to become emotional and thought it best if the tears he shed for his youngest son were expelled in private. Things did not change, and until the day he died his father sobbed every time his favourite son, quiet, intelligent and slightly introverted, left on whatever journey he was driven, by nature, to make..

He opened his eyes, noticing that his father’s bequeathal of an almost obsessional need to be on time meant that he had arrived just over half an hour before the eleven o’clock departure of the scarlet engine. The cargo of witches, wizards, assorted pets, trunks and broomsticks had not yet started to fill the small platform, so Remus was able to freely wheel his trolley down the smooth, worn stone to a carriage right next to the guard van. He manhandled his trunk onto the train (oh the strength benefits of werewolf status, he thought bitterly) and settled in the corner seat to gaze at the arriving pupils and see what sort of children he would be teaching. In his vantage position Remus could see the large majority of the platform, his keen eyes trained on those who were passing through the portal. ___________________________________________________________________________

The first he saw was Harry, his untidy hair sticking up and an almost harassed look on his slightly tense face. Harry Potter was not the best-looking boy to have entered Gryffindor, but there was a certain chirpy demeanour that lent humour to his thin face, and to Remus he was achingly like the father he had never known. He could see the ghost of James within him, that when he grew older that they would be hauntingly similar. Images of slender, toned, creamy skin and callused gentle fingers sometimes haunted his dreams, even now. The boy’s green eyes were tired but jovial behind his round spectacles as he hauled his trolley along, looking for anyone he knew, and he clambered into the train about half way down

‘Ron! Hermione! Place here I think!’ Lupin heard Harry yell suddenly. The red-haired freckly boy, chocolate eyes gleaming with amusement, was able to get his own trunk onto the train, and then helped a bushy-haired girl with hers.

Remus smiled to himself, eyes crinkling with amusement but made dark by memories. It reminded him horribly of old days. Good old days.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘Ah, I always forget how comfortable you are, Hermione.’ Ron turned and started trying to fluff up Hermione’s shoulder to make leaning on it extra snuggly. They were forced to stand at this point, and wait for the hubbub of students to settle, before they could find a compartment. ‘Mmmm, nice to be with my lovely friends, even after staying the summer with me. Even you, Potter, you snoring git - I have a spell to stop that, so if you just...’

‘Hell no! You are putting no spell on me! Last time you did that you did Pinoccious and my nose refused to stop growing whenever I told a lie for a week. And it had to be at the time I was trying to shake off Colin Creevey. Every time I told him I was doing homework what would happen? Another half-inch on my nose, thanks to you. No more spells, thank you very much; especially as it is our third year at Hogwarts and contrary to popular belief I want to do well in my exams.’

‘Ach Potter. You don’t need to pass exams with looks like that - with your body, my beauty and Herm’s brain we could go far, could we not?’

‘At least it wouldn’t be my body, Harry’s face and your brains, Ron.’ Weasley threw a shoe at Granger, which missed its target and flew out of the window. Grumbling, Ron had to fetch it and spent several moments amusing himself by sticking himself to the glass with his open mouth. Harry threw a pepper imp at him, and the red-head, not wanting to miss out on any food, came racing back in and swiped a handful. Hermione closed the window with a thunk, pressing her forehead to the cool glass.

Ron noticed that his best girl friend was gazing out of the window, pointed chin resting on the knuckles of her long fingered elegant hands. Hermione does have pretty hands, he thought irrationally.

‘Found anyone you fancy, Hermy my love. Don’t you forget, you are mine.’ Fingers, squarer, stronger and larger than the ones he had been studying slithered jokingly around her robed waist and were swatted away in good temper by the girl.

‘No. Draco has just got here and is looking as Slytherin as he can possibly get.’ There was a rush to the still open at this point as Harry and Ron tried to get a decent glimpse at their enemy.

‘Good God! I think he has stopped his sneer!’

‘Nah - was the light, Harry. He’s still as sneery as ever.’

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They ended up in his compartment, where he protected them from the Dementors and fed them chocolate for the shock. And as they giggled and chattered about inconsequential things, eighteen years melted away to nothing, and in the short but endless hours, Lily, James and Sirius lived again.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The werewolf and the Potions Master meet as if strangers, politely cool, civil, courteous. Each asks after the other’s health, what they have been doing since they last met, how their lives have panned out. The smiles are strained, not quite reaching eyes that they both note have lost their lustre and gleam and age has wearied them, the years condemned their bodies to early middle age. They converse about insignificant matters that do not cause pain in themselves, for they do not care about the other now. Their heads desperately want them to believe this, for this is the truth, is it not?

Is it?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1979

Outside in the alley, all that could be heard were the sounds of agony, the screams of a hundred people being slaughtered. If he had looked through the thin and grubby nets that covered the grime-streaked windows, he would have seen rivers of blood and the bodies of the dead and barely living. Mercy was an alien concept; beyond the four walls of this foul room, there was no such thing. Children died with their parents, sobbing as first the cloaked fiends murdered mother and father, then turned their wrath upon the offspring. Atonement? For what? For the capture and imprisonment of murderers and cowards? These daemons thought so.

He lay on his back, naked except for a pair of ancient and frayed jeans that were shiny and greasy from many days continuous wear. In one hand burned a cigarette, blue smoke drifting lazily into the haze that hovered just below the actual ceiling, while the other held a fine cut crystal glass filled almost to the brim with neat moonshine.

The last requests of the condemned man.

They would find him, sprawled upon the floor drunk, and listening to Mozart’s ‘Requiem,’ the sweet and holy music of death that weaved and floated and counterpointed. Beauty versus the ugly reality.

He had tired of running. Tired of running from reality and life and what was truth and what was not.

"Lupin…" The werewolf didn’t bother to focus, just drank deeply and not seeming to notice the trickles of the cheap alcohol drip down his chin and pool in the jagged hollows of his collarbones. Nothing really mattered, nothing mattered at all. His world was ‘Lachrymosa,’ the piecing soprano rising above the rich warmth of the alto in homage to the very act of death. His world was cigarette haze and the burn of inexpensive spirits that scorched and burned throat and stomach. And now, resolved to the coming of the end, he closed himself away.

"Lupin. Look at me."

A hand, as grimy and ashen as his own, caressed his cheek in a parody of tenderness. From his viewpoint he could see it, black and ugly and contaminating, burned deep into the flesh of the Other’s forearm. The Mark. The Mark that stood for betrayal.

"Please? You must go, before the others find you…"

He turned his head away, turning his face to the wall and meeting his fate in the traditional way of kings and princes. The alcohol had numbed his senses, the drowsy promise of oblivion tempting his to enter the darkness of unconsciousness, a state from which he would never awake. It was alluring, the thought of going to sleep and never coming to in the morning.

As the curling smoke morphed into greyness, he could not feel himself being picked up bodily, slender but wiry arms holding him close to the black-robed body, and as reality faded for the unconscious man, both disappeared from the sad and tattered little hovel.

…

"He saved your life, Remus. He got you out of your room just before his fellow Death Eaters came in, intent on killing you." Dumbledore slowly unwrapped a sherbet lemon, popped it in his mouth, and offered the paper bag to the invalid that lay under the precision sheets of one of Madam Pomphrey’s infirmary beds.

"He brought you here, to me, to where he knew you would be safe."

"Has he gone?"

"Yes." At the simple word the young man gave a broken sob, tears flowing down his pale and shattered face.

"I hate him."

"Do not hate, Remus, for it is such an ugly emotion. I know that Severus must have had his reasons…

"I hate him. Sirius was right. He’s always right…"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1981

"Don’t go."

"I must. James will shoot me, and you know what Lily’s like with that child of theirs. They want me to coddle and play with the mewling creature while they go out and dance up a storm!" Sirius pulled a grimace of mock-disgust as he coaxed his leather trousers over his thighs. Remus leaned against the doorframe, grey eyes warm as he watched the man he loved as a friend and almost as a lover, wriggle the trousers over his enviably lovely arse and button them closed.

"Don’t stare at something you can’t afford, Lupin…" The dark eyes sparkled in the light of the dying fire, the only source of brightness in the room, and the orange glow seemed to make Black as fey and beautiful as Mephistopheles himself. He had not changed from their schooldays apart from the Celtic dragon which writhed and wound it’s way around his bicep, noble head inked into the skin above his right nipple.

"Don’t go, Padfoot. I can sense something. Stay here with me…"

"Remus!" The exclamation was good natured but bordering on the other side of patient. "Nothing is going to happen. I will go there, look after my godson, and then come back to you. And what do you think I will do then?" The rhetorical question made him grin, making the illusion of him as the fallen angel complete. "I am going to come in here, strip all my clothes off, and bugger you senseless…how would you like that, my pretty one? Do you want my cock shoved inside you, making you twist and keen and sob my name?"

Sirius left then, claiming the werewolf’s mouth hungrily with his tongue as he stood in the bright doorway of their cottage. And although he never said it, he said it that night.

"Love you Remy…"

…

Remus was quite wrong about Sirius being the demon, totally, horribly, horrifically wrong. Dr Faustus sold his soul to Mephistopheles for ‘twenty-four years of voluptuousness.’ Sirius Black traded his best friends for the glory of his own advancement - he gave them to Voldemort.

To err is human?

To betray your lover, to shatter them cruelly. To wilfully murder your best friend and his wife through your own greed. To destroy all that is right and good and just in the world; is that truly forgivable?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Who would dare to love, when all that is returned is betrayal and agony and loss?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now

He turns, stiff and polite and elegant as ever, and bestows a tiny smile upon the werewolf.

"Come to gloat at my defeat, Lupin? Come to make merry in the halls of my anger?" Drawing the severe robes around him, Severus faces the window once again, letting the now waning moon throw his aquilinity into sharp focus. "You see I am always to lose in battle, always to be thrashed by those who are more capable than me. I was beaten by Black in school, in love and in truth, and it still irks me…" He pauses, dampening his dry lips with the tip of his tongue then smiles again, strangely humourless. "Ah, the capacity of the English language that allows me to communicate feelings in such a way as not to scare but to inform. No wonder it is the world’s most spoken tongue."

"You didn’t have to do any of it! Nothing was essential!" Remus’ anger exploded, the build-up sixteen years pouring forth in vitriol. "Why? All I want to know is why? Why any of this!? You ruined so many lives and all you can do is stand there and whitter on about how ‘irked’ you are. How do think I feel, after all these years. You left me. You left me for something evil and debased and I need to know why?!" The last sentence came out as a sob.

Severus sighed, pressing his forehead against the condensated glass. "You are still innocent after all these years. It suits you."

"What sort of answer is that?"

"One that will do for now…"

"No. I need to know why."

"If you need to know, I will tell you. I was not well liked at school, and this goes to some extent in explaining my actions. Revenge, Remus, is a dish best served cold – that’s a Muggle saying. The taunts, the ridicule, the hatred that was thrown at me by almost every single person in Hogwarts has damaged me far deeper than even I know. I didn’t have a choice, I must stress that, I had no choice at all. I had to go and fight for the Dark Lord because it was the only and most final way I could destroy those who made my life so miserable. Did I not tell you of some of my sufferings, of the anger and hurt?" The werewolf nodded his silvering head. "Imagine this; a resentment so overwhelming, so agonising, eating away at you from the inside until the only way you can rid yourself of it is to hit outwards, and indiscriminately. I have an analytical minds, and I say without bragging that it has made me a talented and able wizard. However, for those with over-analytical minds the pain does not come from the physical, it comes from the inability to shut the brain down. I think about everything that was done to me, every little thing, and as they are processed through his head they become unbearable. I can’t turn it off, and it haunts my waking moments, and often my sleep. You were good and kind and I adored you for it, but as I became more disturbed you became the punchbag, the person that I loved and needed most and the one that I thought could take the flack and still love me for what I am; the twisted creature that still loves you. I am being extremely foolish, am I not, Lupin?"

"I did not know"

"I did not expect you to. It was my pain to deal with and I should have not involved you. It was selfish of me, and for that I apologise. And if you will excuse me, I am tired and need to rest. Goodnight, Remus." With that, the Potions Master turned on his heel and strode down the shadowed corridor.

"Severus?" The voice was a little hesitant but strong.

The professor halted and looked over his shoulder at Lupin, who was cast from ivory and silver and abalone.

"May I…I would like to…if I can, obviously…If you want me too…"

Lips melded, fingers tangled in hair, and for a nanosecond and the rest of eternity, they were reunited.

~finis. Finally~