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: Regrets
Author: Black Fire
E-Mail:
Rating: PG
Summary: Lupin's thoughts and memories about Severus Snape. Set during PoA (probably during the Sorting and the Feast).
Notes: This story is a short and independent "excursion" from a longer story I am working on. It is based upon my own theories about Severus Snape. I don't own any rights to the characters I use. I wrote this listening to "Paint it black" by the Rolling Stones, but it would also work with classical music, or songs by Nick Cave. I suggest that it is read while listening to music, because it is about memory, which asks for music (I think Tennessee Williams said/wrote that in memory, everything seems to happen to music).
Disclaimer: I don’t have any rights to the characters used…etc…

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You probably wouldn't believe it, but I have been wondering what became fo you. There were rumours about you, and looking at you today, I fear that they may have been the truth.

Strange to meet here, of all places.

You barely look at me.

Do you still hate me?

You look as if you do. And still, you are going to help me. Why don't you look at me, say hello to me?

Dumbledore said that it might be awkward working alongside each other. Neither of us expected this, eh, Severus?

I would have recognised you at once: tall, long black hair, and you're even thinner today than you used to be, and still wearing black robes.

I remember seeing you on the train to Hogwarts, in our first year. You were the only one who arrived on his own, no worried parents hovering in the background. You looked pretty scary even then, reading this great big book and wearing black robes, your hair tied back in a ponytail (which you abandoned quickly after someone called you a "sissy"-did Sirius say that?). You were the only one of us who never wore fashionable muggle clothing. I was afraid of you, of your piercing eyes which seemed to see through me, I thought that you would find out what I was-what I am.

People were speaking about you in hushed voices, afraid that you'd use one of the terrible curses you knew-or was this nothing but a rumour? I didn't think so, and I still don't.

I always wanted to know what was going on in your head...wished I could read your mind. Today, I think that I'd rather not know what you know-you look as if life has been pretty tough.

I hate to think that I could have made a difference in your life, that I could have made it easier.

But could I?

I doubt it.

You intimidated everybody, and I think that we wanted to prove that we weren't afraid of you.

What about today? I am sure all the students are afraid of you. Is that what you wanted?

To be in a position of power and scare people?

You never made it easy for anybody to like you, did you? Neither now nor then.

I wonder how you get along with Harry-he looks so much like his parents-knowing you, he will find Potions lessons a torture.

Is all that our fault or yours?

We were young and stupid. And cruel. I admit it.

I am sorry to say so, but you were an easy target. A loner, strange and somewhat different, and you always got it wrong when you tried to fit in.

And I was too happy to have friends like James, and Sirius, and Peter to really care about you...Now, they are all gone, and we're both alone.

The thing is, I cannot change what happened, and you don't seem to be interested in something like "forgive and forget". Maybe we took it too far and hurt you too much. I don't know. I never knew what you were thinking or how you felt. But don't think I never saw the tears in your eyes when we played yet another trick on you, laughed at you. I often went looking for you when the others wouldn't notice...apologise to you, make sure you're alright. But I never found you. Even if I had, would you have listened? I don't know.

You and that Slytherin gang---I never understood why you bothered to spend time with them. I do now. At least, they respected you for your knowledge of the dark arts, and when you were with them, people feared you at least, gave you some respect out of fear that you might curse them or poison them.

Isn't that right?

I really hope that there isn't much truth in those rumours I heard about you. But I fear that it is the truth. It is all true, isn't it?

Your eyes avoid me, don't think I haven't noticed.

I see more than you think.

Always have.

I knew "the flu" (which was the official explanation, but not the real one) wasn't the reason why you collapsed in Herbology and were ill for weeks.

James knew, as well. Saved your life for the second time within one year.

Don't know if Dumbledore ever told you.

You never thanked James, did you? You only seemed to hate him more, like he hurt you instead of saving your life.

I still feel guilty about that night-and I think that the others would agree that it was a stupid and terrible thing to do, even to someone we thought we hated. I never hated you. I didn't like you, but I didn't hate you. Even Sirius didn't, although he'd never admit it. He's not heartless.

You never believed me that I didn't have anything to do with this.

I swear I didn't. I would never have let it happen. I told you. Dumbledore told you.

But you were beyond listening already.

So furious.

Always so furious and full of hatred.

You hated yourself more than anything. Still do, don't you? Why don't you look me in the eyes? Are you afraid of what I might see in them?

You didn't want me here.

Because I am a werewolf, or because I knew what you were like as a kid, because I can see the changes in you?

You look tired, exhausted today. Not enough sleep? Can't sleep or won't sleep?

Dumbledore's talking to you, smiling at you. You don't smile back. When was the last time you laughed, or smiled? Not a sarcastic laugh, but real, true laughter?

At least someone's kind to you.

Dumbledore always worried about you, cared about you, I could tell. He saw the danger, but I don't think that he saved you early enough. You didn't allow it, I guess.

Never allowed anybody to get close to you, to help you.

You notice me looking at you, and for the first time your eyes meet mine.

Only for a second.

The same black eyes, but different.

Piercing as always, quick to take everything in...but no longer the eyes I used to know.

Eyes glittering with unshed tears, anger, your eyes flashing at me across the classroom full of suspicion because I was whispering something to Sirius and James.

Your eyes have grown cold and empty. Hollow.

They make me shudder.

Tortured eyes. Bitter eyes.

I wonder what you think about me right now.

You're probably thinking about that night. You haven't forgiven, can't forgive.

I understand now, seeing your eyes.

I think I've known for a long time, but I didn't want to believe it.

It's not that you could have died that night that bothers you, is it?

It's that you didn't.

End