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: Staffroom Seduction
AUTHOR: dovielr
PAIRING: Snape/Lupin
RATING: NC-17 (for graphic m/m sex, language, violence, BDSM, implied violence, seemingly NCS)
DISCLAIMER: Anyone or anything you've heard of before belongs to the Goddess, J. K. Rowling, not to me.
SPOILERS: All four books, 'cause that's just the way my mind works.
DISTRIBUTION: The more the merrier!  I don't mind, but I do have some picky conditions, so e-mail me first, OK?
WARNINGS: Hardcore BDSM (including blood sport and Internal Enslavement.  If you don't know what those are, don't worry: Snape doesn't either ... yet!); Implied violence; Seemingly NCS; and this fic is really, really long (novel-length).
DEDICATION: Many thanks to Dru (for correcting my silly grammatical errors and awkward phrasing, and her wonderful suggestions for the dream sequence) and to Tilly (for her invaluable insights "behind the scenes," and for calling me on anything and everything that was not strictly British).
SUMMARY: This is my first experiment in slash, which follows along with the major events of Prisoner of Azkaban from Snape's POV.  Contains a consensual BDSM, Master/slave relationship.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Italics are used to denote emphasis, foreign terms, thoughts, and charms; emphasis within thoughts is not italicized.

Severus Snape sat at the staffroom table, grumbling temperamentally.  He knew he wouldn't enjoy afternoon tea with the werewolf, but he also didn't imagine being locked in with Remus Lupin would be quite this intolerable.  After the second staff meeting following the boggart incident--Lupin had been too ill from his monthly transformation to make the first--Snape attempted to leave quickly, but the headmaster caught his arm.  Dumbledore suggested, both politely and sternly, that he and Lupin should stay behind until they worked out their differences.  Or at least until they came to some sort of understanding.  The old man never could abide bickering among his staff.

The werewolf adored the idea, and why shouldn't he?  Any chance to torment Snape with his insufferable levity seemed to be very much Lupin's ... cup of tea.  And there he sat, humming softly, a slight smile on his face, while slowly stirring the contents of his cup.  Every vibration of his vocal cords made the Potions master want to scream.

"How can you be so bloody happy all the time?" Snape snarled through clenched teeth, fixing Lupin with what he knew was an extremely irritated countenance.  Setting down his cup and saucer with a clatter, he stood and turned away.  Only his head jerked back instinctively when the werewolf spoke.

"I suppose the same way you manage being so morose," Lupin replied mildly with a smile, the cheerfulness of which was equal in degree to the incense showing in Snape's features.  "When one has already resigned oneself to the fate of being a monster, what else remains to mourn?"

The annoyance instantly dropped off Snape's face.  Lupin may well have resigned himself to his fate, but Snape struggled every day with his past.  His monstrosities were many and varied, and they didn't haunt him only when the moon waxed to its fullest point.

"Everything," Snape whispered, shrugging.

Lupin also relinquished his tea to the staffroom table, steepling his fingers in his distinctive way.  His manner spoke of imagined wisdom and self-satisfaction at that wisdom.  And Snape always found this condescension one of the werewolf's most trying idiosyncrasies.

"You aren't a monster, Severus.  Disagreeable?  Yes.  Sarcastic?  Certainly.  A monster?  Never."

"Why do you say that, Lupin?  You think you've cornered the market?"

The werewolf chortled.  "No, but it does take one to know one.  I daresay I know exactly what you are, Severus, and you are decidedly not a monster."

"Can you not even allow me to relish a moment of self-loathing?" Snape asked, absentmindedly rubbing the Dark Mark through the sleeve of his robes.

Lupin shook his head.  "No."

The werewolf offered him another pleasant smile, which Snape felt the urge to slap off Lupin's face.  He pictured himself doing that very thing, but some deep, primitive instinct told him Lupin would only enjoy that.

Shouldn't reinforce undesirable behaviour, Snape thought with a mental shrug.  Isn't that how one trains a dog?  Why else would he continually taunt me with his disgusting happiness, if not to goad me into striking him?  Why do I even allow him to get under my skin?  I care not one whit what he thinks of me.  So why does his cheerful disposition aggravate me so?  And why do I fall for the ploy every--single--time?

"Well, if I am not a monster, then what am I?" Snape asked, falling back into his chair and taking a sulking sip of tea.

"Why don't you tell me?" Lupin asked.

Again the pleasant smile.  Snape drained his cup, replacing it and the saucer almost immediately on the table.  His hands balled into fists, and he thought how good it would feel--just one solid punch.  He'd attacked countless people as a Death Eater, but then he'd always used his wand.  Why did the thought of punching Lupin--attacking the werewolf with his bare hands like a heathen--possess him so?  Was it because this werewolf was also a wizard?  No, that couldn't be it.  He certainly wasn't afraid of duelling with Lupin.  So what was he afraid of?

Lost in his thoughts, he'd hardly noticed the werewolf had risen from his chair and crossed the room.

"Thinking of hitting me?"

Lupin whispered close to his ear, the warm breath and hoarse voice making Snape's skin prickle.  The werewolf had obviously taken in his clenched hands, gloating over his barely repressed anger.  Snape was angered more by the fact that he had allowed Lupin to revel in how maddening he was, even if only for a moment.  He sat upright from his previous slump with a jolt, banging Lupin's chin squarely with his shoulder.

The werewolf straightened, uttering a strangled cry, and turned, leaning against the table.  Then, placing a finger inside his mouth, he drew the digit back out, red.  Popping the finger back into his mouth, he sucked off the blood.  This vision caused a sudden twitch in Snape's groin, so he looked away.  Was that why he wanted to punch Lupin?  Merely the thought of their skin touching...?

Hit?  Not quite the verb I was contemplating, Snape thought, now actively trying to keep his face impassive.  Oh, for God's sake, don't blush! he chided himself, turning his chair to avoid the werewolf's scrutiny.

"Bit my lip," Lupin said, and Snape could hear the smile in his voice.

"Sorry," Snape said, studying the material of his robes in his lap, willing the heat and stirring he felt there to go away.

"Shouldn't apologise, Severus," Lupin replied.  His tone indicated the werewolf was no longer smiling.  Out of the corner of his eye, however, Snape could see Lupin's gaze was still intent on his face.  "Someone might mistake you for a creature with a heart."

"I have a heart," Snape answered, in a dangerously hushed tone.  As he turned his face back toward the werewolf, he hoped his eyes reflected even half of the anger consuming him.

"Yes, you do," Lupin answered, his face scientifically expressionless.  "I can hear it beating ... exceptionally fast.  And I can smell--"

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as though he were a wine connoisseur with a glass of untasted Bordeaux.  The Potions master then had a vivid metal image of Lupin's swirling a wineglass of his blood beneath his nose, raising it to his lips.

Rubbish!  He's not a vampire.

"Is that ... adrenaline?" Lupin asked.

The werewolf's smile had returned, but this time it wasn't pleasant.  What was it?  Not exultant ... not scornful ... not even predatory.  Was that meant to be ... lustful?  Lupin reached out with his foot and slowly turned the chair so Snape fully faced him.

Why, of all the chairs in this room, did I choose the one that swivels?

Bending over with his face perilously close to Snape's, the werewolf placed a hand on each of the chair's arms.  Snape knew this stance all too well, although Lupin was the last person he would expect to employ such a tactic.  The Potions master had used it himself to intimidate many a student over the years, and--with his formidable presence and lethal voice--this posture usually worked like ... well, like a charm.

"Are you afraid of me, Severus?" Lupin whispered.

"No," Snape said quickly, looking away again.

"What, then?  What is causing this 'fight or flight' response?  Unless--unless it isn't fear.  But what else could it be?"

His voice was barely more than a whisper; Snape, however, flinched as if he were shouting.  But he knew Lupin never shouted.  He was far too happy to shout.  Then a voice in the back of Snape's head made him fully aware of his subconscious fear.

It's desire, you dolt!  Unbridled passion!  He's trying to seduce you, and you don't even know it's working--you unmitigated fool!!!

Snape recoiled even more, whispering, "I simply don't enjoy being this close to a werewolf."

Lupin was bound to see through that, for Snape's reaction was all too transparent:  his nostrils flaring slightly as he savoured the werewolf's scent, the blush on his cheeks he could no longer suppress, the fear in his eyes that he might give in to something he'd never realised he wanted before this afternoon.

Gently placing a hand against his cheek, Lupin turned Snape's head back to face him.  Something like electricity ran through him as the soft fingertips gravitated down his neck--barely touching his skin, tickling and tantalising him--and rested lightly on the button at the top of his robes.  He shivered.

"You aren't a very good liar," Lupin whispered.  The werewolf's other hand came out of nowhere, and together the two deftly undid button after button.  "Are you afraid of me, Severus?" Lupin asked again, as he worked on the last few.

"Yes," Snape replied, barely audibly, still shivering.

He followed the werewolf's eyes as they absorbed what they could see of his svelte chest.  Then Lupin eased the Potions master's robes back onto his shoulders, until Snape sat bare-chested and blushing.  Even though he was still clothed in his open robe and pinstriped black trousers, he felt particularly vulnerable.  The same light brush of fingers traced across his pectoral muscles, down his sternum, around his nipples.  Drawing soft, fine lines along his ribs--almost but not quite moving to embrace him--Lupin licked his lips and exhaled.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" Snape snapped.

"Why are you afraid of me?"

"Because you're--"

Brazen?  Desirable?  Wanton?  Aggressive?  Disgusting?  Attractive?  What is the word I am looking for?  Does a word even exist to describe such a mixed bag of emotions?

Snape's mouth opened and closed a few times--as though he were a fish on the shore gasping for breath--while his brain sought the proper reply.  Then the blasted organ below his nose acted all on its own, ignoring his thought processes.

"--being indiscreet."

Again the werewolf laughed softly, moving his hands back to the chair's arms.  Snape felt a poignant combination of relief and disappointment.

"Is that the best you can do?" Lupin asked.

"What do you mean?" Snape shot back, no longer angry, but still extremely rattled.

"Afraid Dumbledore might walk in?  Or McGonagall?  Or any of a dozen other people who would be shocked to know why you act as if you hate me?  Scared they might learn what you really want?  If fear of being discovered is your best excuse--"

"Give me time.  I'll think of something better."

"No, I think I'd rather not.  I will, however, give freely of my time, if that would help you come to terms with ... other things."

Snape expected to see some shadow of the former mirth in his face, but Lupin said this flatly, his expression inscrutably serious.  If possible, he leaned closer still.  With the werewolf's face just inches from his own, a kiss was all Snape could think about.  Lupin's lips were full and looked inviting, still freshly moist from when he'd run his tongue over them only a moment before.

His tongue, Snape thought with longing.

"If you give me a good, honest reason why you're afraid of me," Lupin whispered, "then I'll back off.  If not--"

"What?" Snape asked sharply.

The werewolf sighed and smiled finally.  "I suppose I'll be forced to kiss you."

He said it.  He'd actually said it.  Besides Lupin's searching fingertips, before now, it had been only innuendo and tone of voice.  But now he'd said that, Snape felt they'd reached the point of no return.  His breath caught in his chest, and he stood suddenly, knocking Lupin backward against the table and sending the chair gliding toward bookshelves opposite.  The werewolf staggered, looking momentarily confused.  Then he smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

"I didn't hear a reason," Lupin said.

"No, you didn't," Snape said curtly.  "And you won't."

Lupin's eyebrows rose.  "Considering the ultimatum I only just gave you, that is practically an invitation."

"It wasn't."

Snape finally noticed his robes were still hanging open.  Blushing again, he quickly wrapped the material around his exposed chest, folding his arms to keep himself securely covered.  He dared not take his eyes off the werewolf long enough to button his robes.

"Why don't I believe you?" Lupin asked.

This was really too much.  The werewolf.  Making a pass at him.  In the staffroom, no less.  Lupin was enjoying watching him squirm.  And Snape was scandalised to realise his body at least was enjoying it, as well.  The touch of those teasing fingertips.  The werewolf's scent.  The look in Lupin's eyes--delightfully feral.

The werewolf stepped forward slowly, and Snape backed away until he struck the bookshelves.  But what was he actually afraid of?  That Lupin was trying to seduce him, or that he wanted to be seduced?  When he'd closed the distance, the werewolf reached out, catching Snape by the wrist.

Snape thought Lupin might kiss him then--hoped he would, more like--but Lupin only stared deeply into his eyes.  Loosening his hold on Snape's wrist, Lupin slid his hand up Snape's hand, opening his fist with his thumb.  Drawing Snape's palm to his lips, Lupin kissed and licked each mound of flesh lightly.  He then took Snape's fingers into his mouth, one by one, gloriously suckling each of them in turn.  Teeth, lips, and tongue--working together--produced the most amazing effect.  The heat and stirring Snape had experienced earlier in his groin were now melding into a fully-fledged erection.

"Have a reason yet, Severus?" Lupin whispered before turning his attention to the last finger, eyes still locked onto Snape's.

Snape could only shake his head.  The werewolf released his hand, instead placing his own on either side of Snape's face.  Lids drooping and lips parted in anticipation, Snape waited for Lupin's kiss.  For the feel of those full lips pressed against his.  For the tongue which teased his fingers so expertly only seconds before.  But the kiss didn't come.  Instead, Lupin worked his own brand of magic--something never taught at Hogwarts--on the skin of Snape's neck.  The Potions master gasped, then moaned, as the werewolf kissed, sucked, and nibbled his throat.  He pulled Lupin closer, hands delving into his hair.

"Lupin, I..."  Snape moaned again, and then he suddenly remembered where they were.  "Oh, Gods!  Lupin, stop that!  Stop it this instant!"

"Why?"  The werewolf pulled back with a slight smile, again parting Snape's robes with gentle fingertips.  "Because you like it?"

"Ye--No! ... Does it matter?  I asked you to stop."

"Sounded ... more like ... an order ... to me."

As he spoke, Lupin trailed kisses down Snape's neck to his smooth, hairless chest.  Then he slowly lowered himself, doing the same on Snape's quivering stomach, which lurched involuntarily with pleasure.  The werewolf's left hand was on the small of his back, holding him in place, the thumb hooked in the waistband of his trousers.  Lupin's thumbnail moved back and forth, tracing a pattern on his skin.  His right hand glided up and down the back of Snape's thighs, the nails grazing him lightly through his robes and trousers.  More blood rushed into his groin.

"But you ... should know ... I never ... play by the ... rules."

Lupin exhaled with the last word, blasting a stream of cool air along the ring of saliva he'd licked around Snape's naval, sending shivers up his spine.  Then the werewolf knelt on the floor.  Snape mastered his pleasure almost immediately, grabbing a handful of the Lupin's hair.

"I said stop!" he barked, pulling the werewolf's mouth away from his skin brusquely.  Unfortunately, this did not have the desired effect.

"Oh, Severus!"  Lupin moaned, bowing and turning his head so his hair was pulled more, straining against Snape's grasp like a horse chomping at the bit.  "How did you know I like it rough?"

Just a suspicion, Snape thought, swallowing hard.

"I don't particularly care how you like this or anything else, Lupin."  He meant the words to have more force behind them, but his deep voice quavered.

"Don't you?"

The werewolf raised his face to meet the Potions master's eyes.  Pulling against Snape's hold on his hair once more, Lupin closed his eyes in rapture, a low growl erupting from the back of his throat.  Snape's groin responded to the sound, his erection growing painfully stiff now.  Surely the werewolf could feel that through his trousers?

Feel it? he thought with scorn.  He can probably hear the blood coursing through it!

As much as he thought he wanted to, Snape didn't let go.  And Lupin, again bowing his head, rubbed his slightly parted lips along the shaft of Snape's erection where it was outlined through his trousers.  He then followed that with his teeth, intensifying the sensation.  Snape groaned, thrusting his hips forward, and released Lupin's hair, hands dropping to his shoulders.  But the werewolf sat back on his heels, and then stood, smoothing his hair.

He stopped.  Why did he stop?

"Lupin?" Snape asked, chagrined.

"Yes, Severus?" the werewolf asked, as cheerfully as always.

"Why--?"

"Why did I stop?  Are you mad, Severus?  Someone could walk in on us any minute."  Again leaning close, Lupin breathed an erotically hoarse whisper into Snape's ear.  "Besides, this room won't allow the use of our full voices.  I know myself well enough to know I won't be satisfied with lukewarm passions.  And I want you to beg me."

The werewolf took a step backward, seemingly anxious for the Potions master's reaction.  Snape stared, slack-jawed, for a few seconds.  At last, closing his mouth with an audible snap, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"My room--ten o'clock," he replied curtly, finally buttoning his robes.

"That will do for now."

Lupin smiled, again infuriatingly pleasant.  Then he strode to the door, turning the knob easily without applying a charm.  Snape's jaw dropped again as the werewolf wheeled about.

"It seems as though you were free to leave at any time, Severus," Lupin said.  "Now, why didn't you think to try the door?"

Chuckling softly, the werewolf left.

That night at dinner, Snape scowled into his plate as Lupin decided, quite irregularly, to sit next to him at the staff table.  Was this meant only to be a reminder of their date later that evening?

Not a date.  An appointment.

Or did the werewolf wish to gloat over the humiliation he'd inflicted earlier, in addition to the normal irritation?  Snape sincerely hoped Lupin wouldn't attempt to secretly fondle him or try to play footsie under the table.  He repressed these thoughts with another intense frown.  And Lupin glanced at him with a pleasant smile, as the headmaster approached wearing his own patented annoyingly cheerful look.

"I see we have called a truce," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes glittering, seemingly taking their proximity as a sign the two had reconciled.

"More or less," the werewolf said, grinning knowingly.

"Yes.  More or less," Snape repeated, with a hint of a growl.

The headmaster clapped each of their backs, then turned to his seat, while the werewolf sniggered.

"Just what do you find so droll, Lupin?" Snape asked sharply.

"You, Severus," he replied, wiping his mouth.  "Not to put too fine a point on it."

"A pinhead could be no finer," Snape retorted.  "And why do you find me so amusing?"

"I've never met anyone in my life more in need of a good laugh than you," Lupin replied lightly.  "And yet, you perpetually avoid the prospect of laughter, or even smiling, as if they were some dread disease."

"You mean, like lycanthropy?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

He could see the effect of his words out of the corner of his eye.  The werewolf dropped his fork, swallowing reflexively.  The colour drained from his normally buttery skin, leaving him looking as he did the day after the full moon--without the dark patches under his eyes, of course.  Lupin's good humour also seemed to dissipate in an instant.  Clearing his throat, he continued speaking, although his hoarse voice was shaking, and he stammered in a manner entirely too reminiscent of Professor Quirrell.

"Y-yes ... yes ... exactly l-like ... that ... that ... p-particular ... d-disease."

Under normal circumstances, when his verbal lance had struck its blow, Snape would break into a sneering smile.  This time, however, he only felt a sudden coldness in his chest.  Was that a pang of guilt?  He wondered if that cutting remark would be enough to keep Lupin from coming to his chambers later that night.  And he wasn't sure if he was disappointed or hopeful that it might.  Surely Lupin couldn't be randy or masochistic enough to let such a scathing remark pass.  Or could he?

The werewolf seemed to have lost his appetite.  He calmly pushed back his chair, whispered something in the headmaster's ear when Dumbledore expressed concern, and left the Great Hall.  And Snape watched him go, every step of the way.  When Lupin was no longer in sight, the Potions master he felt suddenly empty and found his hunger had deserted him as well.  He rose and left the hall, going directly to his room and sitting in front of his hearth with a cup of tea and a book.

At the first stroke of ten, there was a knock at the door.  After marking his place, Snape snapped the tome closed with a snarl, laying it aside and rising.  When he opened the door, as he strongly suspected, the werewolf stood on the other side.

"At least you're punctual," Snape said shortly, making to close the door in his face, "but I've changed my mind."

"Why is that, Severus?" Lupin asked, smiling cheerfully and pushing through quickly before Snape could fully close the door.  "Afraid I might hurt you?  I only will if you ask, although I quite like that myself."

"I fear absolutely nothing in connection with you, Lupin!" Snape spat, slamming the door.  "Do you hear me?  Absolutely nothing!"

"Severus, calm down.  You'll give yourself an aneurysm."

The werewolf placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, which Snape eyed as if it were a Blast-Ended Skrewt.  With a slight frown, Lupin removed his hand slowly.  Then he crossed the room, helping himself to brandy, pouring a splash into each of two snifters.  He returned, handing one glass cordially to Snape before sipping his own.  Snape accepted the snifter, but didn't drink, cocking one eyebrow at the werewolf instead.

"Isn't that your goal, Lupin?  To give me an aneurysm?"

"Quite the contrary," the werewolf answered, smiling.  "There are many things I would enjoy giving you, Severus, but an aneurysm is nowhere among them."

Snape regarded the werewolf for a moment.  Lupin had always been the kindest of his group of friends--the only one he'd ever had the slightest inclination to get to know better.  In fact, if Sirius Black hadn't always kept a watchful eye over Lupin when they were in school, he was fairly sure they might have at least become acquaintances.  But Black would never allow them as much as a moment alone.  He was always there, always watching, always guarding Lupin, as if he were afraid Snape would hurt the boy.  That, however, was before Black decided to prove to Snape--once and for all--that Lupin was no boy.  Shaking that thought off, the Potions master turned his attention to the glass in his hand, at last taking a sip.

"What would you like to give me?" he asked.

"A side-splitting belly-laugh, for one thing," Lupin replied.  "If I thought it possible, I would make it my personal mission to keep you in stitches every day.  But I think both of us know that is unlikely."

"Highly.  What else?"

Now the werewolf wasn't smiling.  Instead he looked concerned.

"Permission to stop torturing yourself," Lupin said soothingly.  "You really could use that.  So you were a Death Eater ... So what?  You saw the error of your ways and joined the side of good ... I know what it's like to carry guilt for far too long over something you can no longer control.  Let it go, Severus.  It would do you a world of good."

Damn him!  Doesn't he know my guilt and self-loathing are the only reasons I have to go on living?  Who asked him to interfere anyhow?  And why would a werewolf try to be my personal saviour?

"Anything else?" Snape asked, irritated, swirling his brandy impatiently before taking another drink.

"Ah ... yes, actually."  Lupin's smile had returned.  "Intense pleasure and earth-shattering orgasms."

Snape nearly sprayed his mouthful of brandy all over the werewolf.  His eyes grew wide, but he managed to swallow before the lurch in his stomach returned.  The memory of Lupin's hoarse voice whispering to him sensually and thoughts of the werewolf's mouth against his neck, on his fingers, at his crotch that afternoon flooded back as involuntarily as the blood now rushing unbidden into his groin.

"But," Lupin continued, raising his index finger, which he touched to Snape's nose, "only if you ask."  Then the werewolf licked his lips and traced that finger--one of those fingers that caressed him so expertly--around the rim of the glass.

Why wouldn't he kiss me earlier? Snape thought suddenly, studying Lupin's mouth.  If he'd kissed me, I don't think my mind would be in such a quandary over this.  I think I'd know whether or not I ... want him.  Or is that just part of his plan?  Perhaps he only wants me to beg him for a kiss?

"If you seriously expect me to beg you, Lupin," he said coolly, "I fear you will be waiting a long time."

After draining his glass, Snape set the snifter aside as he turned away.  He was good at that--turning away from people.  Extremely well practiced, in fact.

"Will I?"

The werewolf walked around to face him.  Reaching down, he found Snape's scrotum immediately through his clothes.  Lupin stared deeply into his eyes, squeezing and kneading Snape's testicles with all the skill needed to make him collapse under normal circumstances.  It was only through sheer force of will he remained on his feet now.  And, if that weren't enough, while Lupin ground the sack between his fingers and the heel of his palm--making Snape chew his lower lip--two fingers slipped behind his scrotum.  Snape had never felt anything quite like that sensation, but if Lupin kept that up, he was certain he could spend then and there, fully clothed.

"Aaaaahhhhh," was all he managed to say, shuddering uncontrollably.

"I thought you'd quite like that, Severus."  Lupin ceased the caress suddenly, teasingly, setting down his glass and leaning nonchalantly against the castle wall.  "You were so close to begging me this afternoon ... so close ... What made you stop?"

Once he'd recovered his powers of speech, Snape hissed, "We were in the staffroom, Lupin."

"Well, I can see why that might put a damper on my granting what you requested," the werewolf said thoughtfully.  "But I fail to see how the location would keep you from asking, all the same."

"You are impossible!"

"Most people hold rather the opposite opinion of me, Severus," he said, again smiling pleasantly.  "That does, however, seem to be an adjective I've heard quite often in connection with your name."

"I must congratulate you on your pillow talk, Lupin," Snape said, his eyes narrowing.  "It is absolutely first rate."

Still grinning, the werewolf shook his head.  "What would you do without sarcasm to hide behind?"

Snape glared.  "Any time you are ready to leave--"

"Oh, I'm far from being ready to leave, thank you."  Lupin again approached, but this time the Potions master did not back away.  "Tell me what you want, Severus.  All you have to do is tell me."

Snape's lips moved, but he didn't hear any sound emerge.  He wanted to slap himself for what he was sure was an uncanny impression of Neville Longbottom.

"I didn't catch that, sorry," the werewolf said, taking another step closer and putting a hand to his ear.

After clearing his throat, Snape said, "I thought werewolves were supposed to have heightened senses of hearing."

"Only if you produce an actual sound for us to hear.  Now, what is it you want?"

"I ... er ... a ... a kiss."

Lupin's eyebrows rose.  "You want me to kiss you, Severus?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"  He was smiling again.

"Quite."

The werewolf's smile grew wider.  "That's all?  Just a kiss?"

"Yes!"

"Well, Severus, you know what I want, don't you?" Lupin asked, his smile fading.

Snape felt his face draw into a scowl again.  "I'm not going to beg you."

Lupin shrugged.  "Then you must not want me to kiss you that badly."

"I suppose not."

"But you must," the werewolf continued, rubbing his chin, "or that wouldn't be the first thing you requested.  Of all the wishes you might want fulfilled, merely a simple kiss?"

Lupin leaned in close, again cradling Snape's face in his hands.  And again Snape closed his eyes in anticipation.  Hot breath bathed his face.  The werewolf's mouth must be opened as well.  Lupin brushed his lips lightly everywhere on Snape's face and neck--everywhere, that is, except his waiting mouth.  Snape opened his eyes, in an attempting to meet Lupin's lips, but every time he made a move that way, Lupin's head would dart just out of his reach.

Infuriating man.  Why won't he kiss me and have done with it?  Is he trying to drive me insane?  Yes, he probably is.  Mr Moony would think it quite amusing for me to occupy a padded room next door to Longbottom's parents.

"You know what I want, Severus," Lupin repeated, placing kisses on his nose, chin, the very corner of his mouth, but never full on the lips.  And, damn him, he was also using that talented tongue of his, to add insult to injury.

"Kiss me," Snape said shortly.

"I don't obey orders, Severus," Lupin said, talking around the earlobe he was nibbling, which caused goose bumps to erupt down that entire side of Snape's body.  "But I will grant requests."

Semantics, Snape thought.  A teacher to the bone.

"Will you kiss me, Lupin?" he asked at last.

The werewolf clicked his tongue.  "That's not quite right, is it?  Something important is missing."

"Will you please kiss me?" Snape whispered, annoyed.

"Louder ... Convince me you really want it."

"Will you please kiss me?"  That was his normal voice.  Surely the werewolf couldn't fault that.

"Louder," Lupin said, shaking his head.

"Someone will hear," Snape said, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

"Not through five-foot thick stone and mortar walls, they won't," Lupin whispered.  He then flicked his tongue over the Potions master's upper lip.  That was the last straw.

"Lupin, will you please kiss me?" Snape bellowed.

The werewolf pulled back and smiled.  "Very good," he whispered.  Drawing closer to Snape's mouth with every syllable, he added, "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Lupin's full lips parted, encircling Snape's mouth.  At the slightest assertion from the werewolf's tongue, Snape was surprised to find his jaw dropped open immediately.  His stomach fluttered as Lupin probed his mouth, his tongue gliding along Snape's, as well as around his palate and the inner and outer surfaces of his lips.

The kiss was everything he'd imagined and more.  The prelude earlier on his neck and torso could not have prepared him for this.  Lupin's mouth was strong and masterful--the furthest thing in the world from how the rest of him appeared to be.  Snape moaned low in his throat, sliding his hands up Lupin's back.  When the werewolf finally pulled away from him, Snape nestled his head helplessly against Lupin's neck.

"Now, you know what I'd like to do?" the werewolf asked, again unbuttoning his robes.

And again Snape's voice failed him, so he shook his head.

"I'd like to finish what I started earlier.  Would you like that?"

The werewolf slipped Snape's robes off his shoulders, letting the material fall to the floor.  Lupin then slid his hand slowly down Snape's chest, barely contacting the skin.  When he reached his crotch, he cupped his hand to Snape's erection.  Again, with the light touch of his fingertips, he traced the outlines of Snape's beckoning hardness.  Rocking his hips to intensify the werewolf's soft caress, Snape nodded this time, trembling.

"How much would you like it?" the werewolf asked.  "Enough to beg?"

"I don't know," Snape whispered.  "Perhaps."

"We'll see about that."

Lupin turned Snape gently, leaning him against the cold, hard stone of the castle wall.  The werewolf slowly lowered himself to the floor, trailing kisses and caresses down Snape's chest and stomach, which quivered in anticipation.  Once he was kneeling, Lupin again feasted on the Potions master's erection through the material of his trousers.  And Snape again thrust his hips forward into the caress of Lupin's mouth and teeth.  When he reached to undo his trousers, however, Lupin took his hands away.

"Don't make me have to restrain you," the werewolf warned.

"Not like this," Snape moaned.

"Not like what?"

"This.  Don't make me soil my clothes."

"Not like this?"  The werewolf drug his teeth upward along Snape's erection.

"No, Gods, no!" he gasped.

"Do you want to fuck my mouth?" Lupin asked quietly.

Snape was momentarily jolted by the harsh language--so unlike the normally mild Lupin--but then he nodded.

"Then you know what you have to do."

This time, that was all the coaxing he needed.  "Please, Lupin?  Oh Gods, PLEASE?!?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

In a flash of nimble movements, Lupin had Snape's trousers around his ankles, all the while still starting deeply into his eyes.  Before taking Snape's engorged erection into his mouth, the werewolf massaged it gently, teasingly.  And he chuckled softly, saying something about suspecting Snape didn't wear underwear.  He then licked the slight emission from the tip and swallowed him whole.

Snape slid into warm, soft wetness as the werewolf's lips stretched taut around his erection.  He thought he would lose control immediately, but Lupin would never allow that.  When his breath quickened too much, the werewolf pulled away, stroking slowly and squeezing--not letting him slip too far down the slope of carnal pleasure, but neither letting him reach the summit.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you, Lupin?" Snape whispered breathlessly.

"That's my trademark, Severus," the werewolf answered, smiling.  "Killing with kindness."

Lupin went back to sucking and teasing, now using his hand in addition to that multi-talented mouth, with a slight twisting motion that was driving Snape mad.  He again grabbed Lupin's hair, with both hands this time.  And again, when he approached his release, the werewolf pulled away.  Again and again and again.  After the fifth time Lupin stopped, Snape groaned loudly in exasperation.

"Are you never going to let me come?" he snarled.

"Would you like to come?" Lupin asked pleasantly.

"YES!!!"

"Then you know what you have to do, don't you?"

Lupin said this so quietly, Snape could barely hear the words for the blood pounding in his ears.  But somehow he knew instinctively what the werewolf had said.

"Oh, Gods, Lupin!  Will you please let me come?"

"Hmmm, I don't think that was loud enough to suit me, Severus."

The werewolf flicked his tongue along the sensitive underside of the tip, also massaging Snape's scrotum.  And whatever Lupin had done before with those two fingers, he was doing it again, just as mercilessly.  The Potions master shuddered.

"Aaaahhhh.  Please, Lupin?  Will you PLEASE let me COME?!?"

"That's better," the werewolf said cheerfully and redoubled his efforts.

Within seconds, Snape was groaning madly, thrusting wildly, pulling Lupin's hair and spending into the werewolf's mouth.  His muscles twitched and relaxed, and he slumped against the cold stone of the wall, sweat dripping from his every pore.

I never thought "earth-shattering" could possibly be an understatement.

Snape was disoriented from his orgasm for a while afterward.  He was in no condition to protest when Lupin stood, wiped his mouth, finished his brandy, and kissed him lightly before leaving.  When Snape eventually recovered, he stepped out of his trousers.  Slithering into his grey nightshirt, he fell into bed--alone and feeling strangely empty again.

The next morning was Halloween.  The Potions master woke a little after six, feeling no better than when he'd gone to bed the night before.  In fact, he felt worse.  Opening the curtains surrounding his four-poster, he swung his legs over and sat up on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.  Snape didn't understand why Lupin left him alone, confused, and unable to reciprocate the incredible pleasure he'd given--almost forced on--him the night before.

But he didn't force me, he thought miserably.  I begged him for it.  I really can't believe I did that.

Snape rose, dressed, and went down to breakfast.  He had to make an early start, since he needed to prepare the Wolfsbane Potion for the werewolf today.  Lupin also came down to breakfast early, not even looking at him, and took his customary place at the other end of the staff table.  Snape was surprised to find his heart felt as though it had plummeted in his chest.  Apparently what passed between them was going to be nothing more than a one-night stand.  And again he discovered he had no appetite.  After some unfruitful toying with his plate, he stalked out of the Great Hall--heading for the comfort, safety, and security of his dungeon.

Now he dreaded bringing Lupin the potion, once prepared.  What would he say, if anything?  He mulled this over and over in his mind as he chopped and added ingredients, stirred and simmered, for the first time so distracted he didn't notice the foul aroma permeating the dungeon.  Today marked the first Hogsmeade weekend of term.  If he had a mind, this would be the best opportunity to speak to Lupin, to ask why he'd rejected him so cavalierly.  With over half the students and staff in the village, there wouldn't be too many curious ears to overhear them.  When the potion was finished, Snape ladled some of the smoking brew into a goblet.  He then headed for the werewolf's office, rehearsing what he'd say as he walked.

Why did you leave me last night?  I usually prefer some sort of cuddling after anything so intense ... But you left me all alone--without a word, without an explanation, without even saying good night.  And after I'd humbled myself in what was possibly the most embarrassing way I've ever experienced.  I've never in my life begged anyone for anything, and I begged you, of all people, when I was so sure I wouldn't.  You broke my will ... with desire, that's what you did!  And then you abandoned me ... to my shame and my loneliness.  That's something I would do, not you.  Why would you do that to me?

Snape wanted to tell Lupin everything on his mind, to unload all these uncertain feelings.  He hoped the werewolf would say something--anything--to ease the troubled thoughts bubbling through his head in a manner entirely too reminiscent of the boiling cauldron he'd been bending over minutes before.  When he reached Lupin's office, his heart pounded in his ears.  Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips, preparing to enter speaking before the werewolf could cut him off.  Then he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lupin's hoarse voice called.

He opened the door and quickly stepped inside, and whom should he see in Lupin's office?

Potter.

Snape stopped dead in his tracks, the words dying in his throat.

Damn!  I'd forgotten Potter's family hasn't signed his Hogsmeade permission slip.  Of course he'd still be here in the castle.  But why is he here, in Lupin's office?  Even when he's not trying, Potter ruins all my plans!

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as Lupin smiled.

"Ah, Severus," the werewolf said.  "Thanks very much.  Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape's mind echoed the werewolf's words to him the night before:  I don't obey orders, Lupin ... But I will grant requests.

As the Potions master placed the goblet on the desk, his gaze flitted from Lupin to Potter and back again, trying to divine the subject of their conversation.  Perhaps I should consult Sibyll Trelawney, he thought with scorn.  Then, as if Lupin were reading his mind...

"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," the werewolf said, pointing, presumably in the direction of the tank.  Snape, however, never took his eyes off Lupin, whose tone was aggravatingly pleasant, as always.

"Fascinating."  I wonder:  Did Potter have to beg for the privilege?  "You should drink that directly, Lupin."

"Yes, yes, I will."

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape said.

And I got up early to do so.  But you know that, don't you?  You saw me at breakfast, when you wouldn't even condescend to speak to me.  And I thought about you the whole time I was making this, wondering why you left me alone last night, and why it ... hurt so much.

"If you need more," the Potions master added.

"I should probably take some again tomorrow," Lupin replied.  "Thanks very much, Severus."

I don't want your thanks! Snape screamed in his mind.  I want your mouth on me again, as it was last night!  And I want you to stay afterwards!  Or at least to say a proper good-bye...

"Not at all," he answered, instead of shrieking, as he wanted to.

He then noticed Potter was paying him an undue amount of attention.  Was he reading all this on his face?  The hurt?  The shame?  The jealousy that the boy could have a moment alone with Lupin and he couldn't?  Snape struggled to keep his expression sufficiently blank.  Backing out of the room, he consciously forced his gaze to remain on Lupin, lest Potter's curiosity be piqued any more by a sudden jerk of the head in his direction.

Outside the werewolf's office, Snape leaned against the wall, his heart still pounding.  He didn't want to leave.  He wanted to rush back in, tell Potter to run along, and talk to Lupin about what he was feeling.  But he couldn't interrupt their pleasant tea--much too suspicious.  Just then, Filch rounded the corner, and Snape decided he'd best be off.  It wouldn't do to be caught loitering outside the werewolf's office.

He sulked all the way back to the dungeons.  Sitting at his desk with a sigh, he began to mark Potions homework, but his mind wasn't completely on the task at hand.  Halfway through Longbottom's abysmal attempt at a semblance of correct answers, Snape pushed all the parchments off the front of his desk.  Burying his face in his hands, he leaned his elbows on the desk and groaned.

"Is something the matter, Severus?"

Snape looked up suddenly to see the werewolf, smoking goblet in hand, leaning against the jamb of his open office door.

"Besides hopelessly thick students, you mean?  No, Lupin.  Nothing at all."

The werewolf smirked.  "You really are a dreadful liar.  Why do you even try?"

"Is there some purpose for this visit," Snape asked, glaring, "other than to regale me with your powers of observation?"

"Just returning your goblet," Lupin said pleasantly.  "Did you want to speak with me?"

"No, I was merely bringing your potion."

The werewolf shook his head, brows knitted.  "From the look on your face in my office, I could have sworn there was something on your mind."

"Well, you were wrong."

Lupin stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.  When he continued, his tone was soothing.

"Severus, if we aren't honest with one another, this relationship will have virtually no chance."

"I wasn't aware we had a relationship," Snape said curtly, wishing he still had some parchment on his desk toward which he could turn his attention.  "After the way you deserted me last night and avoided speaking to me this morning at breakfast."  He sighed.  "I suppose I did want to talk to you--"

"I know."

"--but Potter was there."

Lupin frowned.  "Sorry about that, Severus.  Harry was looking a little down, missing the first Hogsmeade weekend and all.  I thought he might want to talk.  And I think you'll agree our students must come before our ... personal lives."

"Of course."

"As for not speaking to you at breakfast ... Well, I thought I would take your advice and attempt a little more discretion."

"That wasn't meant as advice," Snape whispered, shaking his head.  "Only as an excuse."

"I know, but discretion is never a bad idea.  And as to why I left ... I felt I owed you a little censure after the lycanthropy comment at dinner last night."

"No one heard me save you.  And all the staff know."

"That doesn't mean I enjoy having my defect thrown in my face at every turn."

"Perhaps that was somewhat insensitive of me," Snape said with a slight shrug.

The werewolf grinned.  "Since that's probably the closest to an apology I'll ever get, I'll accept it ... I shouldn't be vindictive ... Now, I've told you why I left.  Why did you want me to stay?"

"I ... I ... wanted to ... repay in kind."

With a nod, Lupin approached Snape's desk, setting down the goblet.  Bending, he gathered the rolls of parchment, which he piled on the desk.  The werewolf stood, smiling, and then he approached Snape's chair, sitting on the desk but leaning forward.  Lupin began to softly run his hand through Snape's hair.  He seemed surprised to discover Snape's hair wasn't greasy, as everyone thought--only silky, sleek, and exceptionally shiny.  Snape closed his eyes to better enjoy the werewolf's gentle touch.

"Relationships shouldn't be quid pro quo, Severus," Lupin whispered.  "I didn't do that in order to receive anything in return.  I did it ... well ... simply because I wanted to do it.  I wanted to see you lose control--cause you to lose control.  That was a reward unto itself."

"Why did you make me beg?" Snape whispered, finally opening his eyes.  He spoke almost inaudibly, but the werewolf seemed to hear him loud and clear.  Lupin folded his arms over his chest before answering.

"A few reasons.  One is I rather thought I'd like hearing it.  Another is I prefer consent never to be implied, but instead expressly spoken.  And, lastly ... well, it's all about control, isn't it?  I wanted you to not only lose control but also relinquish control.  A subtle difference, I'll admit, but it's there.  I actually planned to leave regardless.  I only left as I did for a punishment.  I would have willingly held you afterward, but I wouldn't have allowed you to ... 'repay in kind' last night, however you might have pleaded."

"Why not?" Snape asked, a great deal louder and higher in pitch than he'd intended.

"Because you need to learn to receive, Severus," Lupin said, again touching his index finger to Snape's nose.  "Without reciprocation.  Without feeling unworthy or selfish.  Without guilt.  That's the first step toward forgiving yourself.  I have no doubt you are capable of giving me pleasure--great pleasure--but for now, I want you to receive only, until you begin to think your wants and needs are worthy of consideration."

For a long moment, Snape simply stared at the werewolf perched on his desk.  He didn't know what to say.

"Why me?" he asked, at last.

"Why not you?" Lupin answered, smiling pleasantly.

"That's not an answer."

The werewolf chuckled.  "You're right.  And that was a fair question."  He sighed and cleared his throat.  "I suspect you and I have compatible tastes, Severus.  I think we'll be very good for one another."

"How do you know what my tastes are?" Snape asked.

"I don't know," Lupin replied with a shrug.  "I only suspect.  But I haven't been wrong so far with my speculations."

"But ... you hate me."

The werewolf's eyes grew wide.  "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Your friends, Lupin ... in school--"

"I am not my friends, Severus.  I couldn't control Sirius or James or Peter any more than you could ... It's true, I didn't care for you much then, but I never had the chance to get to know you, either.  I'd like to now, if you'll let me.  Now that we are both older and, hopefully, wiser."

The werewolf seemed sincere.  In addition, he peered at Snape expectantly, apparently awaiting his answer as to whether the two of them might attempt a relationship.  Snape wanted to give his consent by pulling Lupin close, kissing him, and caressing him.  Instead, he simply nodded.

"I need to get back to work," Lupin continued, standing.  He walked to the office door, but stopped with his hand on the knob, turning back to face Snape.  "We--er--we probably shouldn't sit together at the feast tonight, but will I see you after?"

"Same time and place?" Snape asked.

"I'd like that," Lupin answered, again smiling pleasantly.

For once, Snape didn't get annoyed.  "Come in through the hearth this time."

Lupin nodded, opening the door.  When the werewolf left, the Potions master again unrolled Longbottom's parchment.  For some reason, marking his least favourite student's work didn't seem such a bad prospect at the moment.  After he'd finished the pile of parchments, Snape set up his cauldron to test a possible potion for a seventh year project.  Soon his stomach was grumbling.  Preparing the potion would have to wait until after lunch.  Snape was a light eater as a rule, but skipping breakfast had taken its toll.  Even though it was barely eleven, he decided it was now most assuredly time for lunch.  He didn't see Lupin in the Great Hall, but he hadn't expected to.  The werewolf had probably eaten his breakfast, so he wouldn't be down this early for lunch.

The afternoon passed quickly but, as far as Snape was concerned, the feast couldn't end soon enough.  His gaze gravitated toward the werewolf more often than normal, almost involuntarily, as though his eyes were acting all on their own.  Not that he was complaining--his eyes seemed to have exceptionally good taste.  Despite his shabby robes, Lupin had a presence that was prepossessing.  He had always known, logically, that Lupin was good-looking; he even supposed his obsession in school might have been due to feelings he wasn't ready to own at the time.

Snape was out of Hogwarts and a Death Eater before he could admit he fancied men.  Not that that realisation did him much good.  With the dangers involved in his spying and then the monastic life of teaching at a boarding school, he had accepted--in all probability--he would spend his remaining years alone.  He'd never imagined Lupin would come back into his life, and certainly never in this capacity.  But those promising words...

"I think we'll be very good for one another."

He couldn't get them out of his head.  Again he looked at the werewolf as he chatted, eyes glittering, with Professor Flitwick.  And then Snape felt the pull of another set of eyes.  A quick glance told him to whom they belonged:  Potter.

Damn!

The boy had been watching him and knew he was watching Lupin.  Snape frowned as he turned his eyes back to his plate.  He finished half of what remained, although he wanted none of it, estimating that would give him enough time to take his leave without arousing Potter's suspicions any more.  He then rose and walked out of the hall, intentionally strolling along the staff table so he could assess Lupin's reaction.  The werewolf's smile brightened just a bit as he passed.

Less than fifteen minutes after Snape crossed the threshold of his chambers, Lupin entered through the fireplace.  When the werewolf emerged from the hearth, Snape barely gave him time to brush the soot off his robes before falling into his arms.

"I've been thinking about you all day," he whispered.

"Same here," Lupin replied huskily.

"Did you notice Potter staring at me during the feast?"

The werewolf pulled back, looking puzzled.  Lupin then began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I was just thinking of the look on Harry's face after you left my office this morning.  I think he thought you were trying to poison me."

"That explains his staring then."

They both turned at the knock on the door.  Professor McGonagall called from outside between furious bursts of knocking.

"Severus!  Severus!"

Without a word, Lupin bounded toward the bed, drawing the curtains as Snape opened the door.  McGonagall was flushed.  Snape didn't have to fake his annoyance.

"What's the matter, Minerva?"

"Trouble--Gryffindor Tower--Have you seen Remus?"

Shaking his head, Snape clutched her arm.  "I'll find him.  We'll be right there."

She turned and bustled away as Lupin peeked through the curtains.  Snape stepped into the corridor, looked both ways, and beckoned the werewolf out.  When Lupin had headed down the hall a few quiet strides and turned, starting back toward Snape, the Potions master bellowed.

"Lupin, where have you been?"

"I was ... looking for Dumbledore," the werewolf replied.

Professor McGonagall wheeled.  "Remus--Come quick--Trouble!"

When they arrived at the entrance of Gryffindor Tower, Dumbledore was already there.  As far as Snape could ascertain, someone had slashed the Fat Lady painting, she was in hiding, and Peeves was being his normally delightful self as Dumbledore attempted to have him to explain what had happened.  At the poltergeist's last words, Snape thought he'd be ill.

"Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

The entirety of his innards turned to water as the suspicions began.  He avoided looking at Lupin.  And then the staff separated, searching the castle.  Luckily Snape didn't have to see the werewolf during that.  But he couldn't stop his thoughts.

"I couldn't control Sirius ... any more than you could."  I've been duped.  That was all an act, so I wouldn't suspect him while he smuggled Black into the castle.  And he was conveniently with me when the alarm was raised.  How could I compromise the students' safety for a little bit of shagging?  Great shagging, no doubt--Stop!  Don't think that!  How could I possibly be so thick?  I'll have to speak to the headmaster as soon as possible.

But Dumbledore wouldn't listen.  He thought Lupin completely trustworthy and wouldn't hear a word against him.  Although Snape respected him, the headmaster could sometimes be a stubborn old fool!  Snape left the Great Hall--where the students would be spending the night--and he was not three feet outside when the most awful thought occurred to him.

Oh Gods!  I have to give Lupin the potion again tomorrow!

Instead of taking the potion to Lupin himself, Snape wrangled a house elf into ferrying the goblet to the werewolf and back every day.  Thankfully, for appearances' sake, Lupin didn't approach him in the Great Hall during meals or come to his office, and Snape warded his hearth so the werewolf couldn't enter uninvited using Floo powder.  When the knocks came on his door at ten o'clock--every night without fail--the Potions master didn't answer, feigning sleep.  Only one night after Halloween did Lupin fail to visit, and that was when the moon was full.

The next morning, quite early, there was another knock on Snape's door.  He hesitated to answer it, thinking momentarily it was only Lupin, trying a different approach.  But he dismissed this.  The werewolf would be in no condition to knock on his door only hours after the moon had set.  While he didn't expect his visitor to be Lupin, when he opened the door, Snape was surprised to see the headmaster.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore said.  "Remus isn't feeling equal to teaching this morning, and I was wondering if you would mind taking his classes today?"

"Mind?  Certainly not, Headmaster!  I'd love to take his classes!"

Permanently, if I could.

Dumbledore arched one bushy eyebrow.

"That is ... I'm happy to help," the Potions master added.

"Thank you, Severus.  I'm sure Remus will be touched."

The day wasn't a total waste.  Potter arrived late to Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, and then argued, allowing him to take a total of fifteen points from Gryffindor.  Then he had the opportunity to embarrass Granger, the insufferable know-it-all, taking another five points, and to give Weasley a detention of manually scrubbing hospital bedpans.

Snape particularly enjoyed reviewing their previous homework and criticising how the werewolf graded while they made notes on werewolves from the text.  Delicious irony, even if he was the only one for the time being who could appreciate the joke.  The cream was assigning an essay, comprising two rolls of parchment, on werewolves.  The following Monday, as Snape expected, Lupin stormed into his dungeon office.

"Precisely what is the meaning of giving my third years an essay on werewolves?" he asked, his eyes flashing wildly.

"What do you think?" Snape asked, teeth gritted.

"Well, don't expect any parchments coming your way.  I told them they didn't have to complete it."

"Your third years really are terribly behind, Lupin," Snape said, tapping his quill on the desk.

"That is between me and the headmaster."

Snape lowered his voice to a venomous whisper.  "They have a right to know exactly--what--is teaching them."

The werewolf shook his head with a heavy sigh.  "Why are you trying to get me sacked, Severus?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Because you let Black into the castle."

"WHAT?!?"

Snape had never heard Lupin shout before, and he was taken aback.  Apparently just as much as the werewolf, who stared, open-mouthed, his face registering both shock and horror.

"I wouldn't spit on Sirius Black if he were on fire!  Why would I help him into the castle?  He betrayed me just as surely as he betrayed Peter, James, and Lily!"  Lupin now trembled with anger.

"And yet, of those named," Snape continued silkily, "you are the only one who is still alive."

"That is unfortunately true, but you didn't answer my question:  Why would I help a murderer into the castle?"

"I don't know," Snape admitted with a shrug, after a long pause.

"I don't want anything to happen to any Hogwarts student, any--more--than--you--do!  Good Lord, Severus!  Why would I aid someone whose only wish is to kill my best friend's son?"

"Black was counted among your best friends also, wasn't he?" Snape whispered, his voice sounding like the calm before the storm.

"Was, Severus.  Was.  Not anymore.  Not for twelve years.  Not since he murdered the remainder of my best friends."

After that, there was a long, deafening silence, during which the werewolf still trembled, his hands balled into fists, and Snape tried to avoid his angry eyes.

"So, you didn't help Black into the castle," Snape said, finally.  "Do you have any idea how he managed it?"

Lupin shook his head sadly, but his trembling ceased.  "I only wish I did."

"May I ask you something personal?"

"Certainly, Severus," the werewolf answered, inhaling as he squared his shoulders, steeling himself with dignity against whatever barbs Snape might next fling.

"Did you love Black?"

Lupin waved dismissively.  "Of course I loved him."

Snape scowled immediately, and Lupin frowned as well.  He then turned and closed the office door, shoulders slumping.

"Severus, it's not what you think."  He turned back, sighing.  "There was a time when I was ... infatuated ... with Sirius.  He was handsome and strong and fun ... but he was also decidedly straight.  And I even dated girls myself as a cover, so he wouldn't turn away from me, so I wouldn't lose his friendship, even if I could never claim him as my own.  I knew he understood about my defect, but I wasn't sure he'd understand about my ... fancying other boys ... among many, many other things.  I never told him."  Lupin's brow furrowed.  "Did you do this out of jealousy?"

"I don't know why I did it.  I was angry.  I ... I didn't think.  I'm ... sorry."

The werewolf shook his head again.  "It appears we're not so different as you think, Severus.  You too have the self-destructive tendency to gnaw off a limb when you sense a trap."

"I said I was sorry."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Lupin snapped.  Then he paused and took a deep breath.  "I mean your looking for any excuse to undermine your happiness.  The accusation about Sirius and the essay are only symptoms of a much larger problem."

Snape pursed his thin lips in distaste.  "You are quite the psychologist."

"Being a werewolf causes one to do a great deal of soul-searching."  Lupin covered his eyes with his hand, sighing again.  Then he drew his hand down his face, in a tired, exasperated gesture.  "You really have no concept of how much you've hurt me, have you?"

"I think I have some idea ... Are we ... is there--still a 'we'?"

"I don't know.  I'll need some ... time ... to deal with all this."

"Take all the time you need," Snape whispered before he could stop himself, bowing his head.

Lupin turned and left.

And Snape felt terrible.  For nearly a month afterward.

Only at the end of November, when he again prepared the Wolfsbane Potion, did he and Lupin reconcile.  They had hardly spoken a civil word in three weeks.  Carrying the goblet, the Potions master went to the werewolf's office around eight o'clock.  Lupin was sure to be alone at this hour, unless he and Potter were having another heart-to-heart.  Snape knocked timidly on the door.

"Come in."  The werewolf looked up from his desk as Snape entered.  "Ah, hello, Severus."

Snape closed the door.  "How are you?"

"I've been better," Lupin answered, sighing.  "You?"

"The same.  May I sit?"

"Please."

The werewolf gestured toward a chair as Snape approached, setting the goblet on the desk between them and sitting.  Lupin drank the potion in several halted gulps with painful grimaces between each.  Then he pushed the empty goblet back across the desk.

"Surely it isn't all that bad, Lupin?" Snape asked.

"It is disgusting, Severus," the werewolf replied.  "That's no reflection on you, of course."

"I've tasted it myself--during the preparation--"

"You aren't a lycanthrope.  To me, it's perfectly horrid."

Lupin then took several sips from his teacup, swishing the liquid around his mouth, attempting to wash away the taste of the Wolfsbane Potion.  Snape worried for a moment.  If Lupin had sugar in his tea, it would render the potion ineffective.  Then he remembered that day in the staffroom, so long ago it seemed now.  When he offered Lupin the sugar bowl, the werewolf replied he only took milk in his tea.

Amazing the things one remembers, Snape thought wistfully.

He and Lupin silently avoided one another's gaze for a moment.  Then their eyes met, and each of them blurted out the other's name at precisely the same instant.  Snape felt himself flushing a little as Lupin smiled, shaking his head.

"You first," the werewolf said politely.

"No, no, you," Snape replied, just as politely.

"I insist, Severus."

Snape cleared his throat.  "Well ... I've been thinking.  Some time back you said you wanted me to receive pleasure until I felt my wants and needs were worthy of consideration."

Lupin nodded once.  "I remember."

The werewolf's expression was unreadable.  He frowned, but his eyes appeared sad rather than angry.  And his face looked extraordinarily old and tired, even though it had been three weeks since the last full moon.  Had Lupin not been sleeping any better than he had?  Snape hesitated a moment before continuing.

Be direct.  Honest.  Just tell him.

"Since then, almost all I've had is pain ... I want you ... and I think that need is worthy of your consideration."

Lupin's expression transformed at once into a warm grin, and Snape found himself returning the smile before he knew what hit him.

"I couldn't agree with you more," the werewolf said.

"What were you going to say?" Snape asked.

"Only--I've missed you.  I was worried you weren't ever going to come back."

"You were waiting on me?  Why?"

"I thought it would be better if it was your decision this time."

Lupin's smile faded, but he rose, walking to Snape, and bent to kiss him.  Snape stood also, without breaking the kiss, sliding his body against the werewolf's as he ascended.  Lupin grabbed two handfuls of Snape's hair as Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin's waist.  The kiss wasn't as vehement as their first kiss--softer, more tender--but Snape enjoyed it no less.  The werewolf tilted his head backward, this time parting his lips submissively, allowing Snape's tongue to explore, memorising every contour of his mouth.  Lupin was only a few inches shorter, but Snape found the disparity in their height--and the fact that allowed him to bear down on the werewolf's mouth--intensely arousing.

He savoured the interesting combination of Wolfsbane Potion and Earl Grey on the werewolf's tongue as he drew it into his own mouth, sucking hard.  Lupin gurgled an incoherent cry, lowering his hands to Snape's shoulders and clutching them urgently.  The werewolf apparently enjoyed having his tongue almost ripped from his mouth, albeit sensually.  Snape slid his hands down to the werewolf's backside, pulling him--and his throbbing groin--closer.  His stomach fluttered again as Lupin's erection dug into his thigh.  All of his skin tingled, and he felt his knees weren't going to hold him up much longer.  Forcing their lips apart finally when the need for air overrode, Snape panted against Lupin's neck for a moment, breathing in the werewolf's glorious scent.  Then looked into Lupin's eyes, puzzled.

"Why didn't you make me beg this time?" he asked.

"I think we're past that now," Lupin replied, pulling him close, one hand at the base of his neck, one on the small of his back.

"I've missed you, too ... so much," Snape whispered against Lupin's temple.

"My room tonight?"  The werewolf pulled back, his eyes sparkling.

Snape nodded.  "Same time?"

"I think I've done enough work for one night," Lupin said, still smiling.  "How about without further delay?"

"I'll just take this back to the dungeon," Snape said, retrieving the goblet from the desk.  "Then I'll be up directly."

He walked to the door, and the werewolf stepped behind his desk, shuffling bits of parchment.  Snape stopped with his hand on the knob when Lupin spoke again.

"I hope you've been getting enough sleep lately."

"Rather the opposite.  Why?"

"I, for one, plan to make up for a lot of lost time."

Snape was surprised to hear himself snigger.

"Music to my ears," Lupin said.

The Potions master didn't have to see the werewolf to know he was smiling, probably as broadly as Snape himself was.  Outside Lupin's office, he carefully extracted the smile from his face and kept his speed as normal as possible while traversing the many steps between him and the dungeon and, shortly thereafter, Lupin.  As he returned to his office, for the first time in his life, Severus Snape felt the urge to skip.  When the goblet was washed and put away, Snape dried his hands and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Within seconds, he was in the werewolf's room, and they fell together, all heaving chests, flushed cheeks, roving hands, and hungry lips.  Breaking their heated kisses only long enough to struggle out of their robes and clothes, they landed on the bed together.  Lupin said he'd cast a Silencing Charm on the door, so they could be as loud as they wanted.  When Snape asked why, the werewolf replied he had a tendency to shout.  Surprisingly, this time Lupin let Snape take control, and he thoroughly enjoyed that.

"Severus, please don't be gentle with me," Lupin whispered.

"I think that can be arranged," Snape purred, chuckling wickedly.

Rolling the werewolf onto his back, Snape bit each of Lupin's nipples sharply, and the werewolf gasped.  He then took them between his teeth again, pulling and stretching until they popped out, pinching awfully he was sure.  Lupin yelped, arching off the mattress.  But then he smiled and pulled Snape's head down, prompting him to repeat the action.  Some deep fire Snape had thought long dead rekindled.  When he remembered hurting people in the past, he'd often felt queasy.  The werewolf, however, seemed quite fond of the pain.  He was enjoying it--not merely enduring it.

"I take it you like that," Snape whispered.

"Yes," Lupin moaned.

"Well, I have more in store for you."

Lupin all but panted in anticipation.  Kissing and nipping his chest, Snape trailed downward.  Then he bit each of the werewolf's thighs in turn--hard--leaving marks.  And Lupin yelped and groaned and urged him on.  But Snape had other ideas.  He took the werewolf's now fully stiff erection into his mouth, sucking as hard as he could.  Occasionally, he purposefully grazed it with his teeth, while pulling and massaging Lupin's scrotum harshly.  And the werewolf moaned and shouted his approval, gripping the bedcovers with white knuckles, probably in lieu of pulling out clumps of the Potions master's hair.  Snape was engrossed in his work, so he was taken completely by surprise when Lupin yelped suddenly, for once when he hadn't bitten him.

"Stop, Severus!  Please stop!"

Snape pulled back, shocked.  "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no!" Lupin reassured him, shaking his head with a smile.  "I want you inside me."

A wicked grin spread across Snape's face.  "Beg me," he whispered.

Lupin's eyes grew momentarily wide, and then he smiled.  "You learn quickly.  PLEASE, Severus!  PLEASE come inside me!"

Snape clicked his tongue, stroking Lupin's erection absently.  The werewolf was sufficiently loud, but...

"Too polite," he purred.  "I want you to ... talk dirty to me ... and you don't have to shout.  I like it better when you whisper."

"Oh?  Oh..."  Lupin's brow furrowed, as he seemed to search for the "proper" dirty words.  "Severus, I want you to fuck me," he whispered hoarsely.  "I want your big cock fucking my arse--fast, hard, and without mercy."

Snape shivered involuntarily at the pleasantly foul language issuing from the werewolf's mouth.  "You have risen to the occasion, Lupin," he whispered.

He bent to bite Lupin's thighs and suck him a little more before rising and retrieving the jar of lubricant the werewolf indicated would be in the drawer of his bedside table.  After covering his fingers with the slippery substance, Snape inserted and stretched with one, two, then three fingers, and the werewolf sucked air with each.  Then he spread a liberal amount of lubricant on his own erection, raised Lupin's legs over his shoulders, and shoved himself inside the ill-prepared opening.  Again the werewolf inhaled sharply, but his smile showed the discomfort was more than welcome.

Wrapping his arms around Lupin's thighs, Snape ground his erection in and out, adoring the sound when his hips slapped against the werewolf's backside.  He recounted brewing procedures and potion ingredients in his head to prolong this pleasure, wanting to watch Lupin's orgasm before he had his own.  The werewolf bowed up and forward, grabbing Snape's hands, sliding them around to the backs of his knees.

"Please pin me down, Severus," he whispered.

Snape willingly complied.  He leaned forward, pushing Lupin's thighs onto his chest.  Resting all his weight on the back of the werewolf's legs, Snape found he could thrust much harder.  And Lupin pumped his own erection furiously, his smouldering eyes never leaving Snape's face.  The sight was better than anything Snape had ever managed to concoct in his fantasies:  Lupin, face and chest flushed, panting open-mouthed and squirming beneath him, while Snape attempted to pound him through the mattress.  The werewolf was an absolute vision.

As he approached his release, Lupin's head thrashed feverishly from side to side and then he begged Snape to bite him.  Snape sunk his teeth deeply into the werewolf's calf, releasing his hold only to watch Lupin's face when he began the throes of his orgasm.  Digging his head into the pillow and arching upward, Lupin tried in vain to caress Snape's back with his free hand.  And the werewolf breathlessly whispered his name as Snape, grunting with each thrust, exploded into the warmth of Lupin's quivering body a few seconds later.

"That ... was ... brilliant," Lupin panted as Snape carefully lowered the werewolf's legs and eased down on the bed beside him.

"Absolutely," Snape whispered as he fought to catch his breath.  He kissed Lupin's cheek, running his hands through the werewolf's sweat-soaked hair, and Lupin buried his face in his neck.

"Why did you want me to talk dirty?" Lupin whispered against his skin, sending goose bumps down the entire right side of his body.

"Because you are the unerring gentleman," Snape replied silkily.  "I enjoy sullying such a ... pristine mouth."

"Feel free to sully my pristine mouth any time," Lupin answered before affixing said mouth to Snape's neck, kissing and nibbling gently.

"Are you still convinced your suspicions were correct?" Snape asked.

Lupin nodded.  "You aren't afraid to hurt me," he said pleasantly.  "I like that ... You'll never believe this, Severus, but I sometimes envy your temper."

Snape smiled in spite of himself.  "That is rather difficult to believe."

"I won't allow myself to get too angry.  I don't trust myself enough, you see.  I also think your temper may be ... useful."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out.  Patience, Severus.  Patience."

Again he touched a finger to the Potions master's nose, and they drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Snape wasn't sure when he woke; it was probably after ten.  Since it was so early when they lay down, he was surprised he fell asleep so quickly.  But the fact that he hadn't slept well in nearly a month, coupled with the relaxing after-effects of incredible sex, made him doze within minutes.  Lupin was now snuggled against his chest, as Snape had turned in his sleep.  The werewolf looked so innocent while he slept.  No one would suspect from his cherubic face and his sweet half smile that he'd talked like a common whore and begged Snape to hurt him not long ago.

Our little secret, the Potions master thought, tracing his fingertips over Lupin's forehead, brushing back his hair.  Lupin stirred at the light touch.

"What time is it?" he asked, still half asleep.

"Don't know, don't care," Snape replied, before kissing his brow.

"Morning?"

"No, I don't think so."

Lupin looked up at him, smiling, and then he moved to get out of bed, but Snape caught his arm before he could leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To look at the clock."

"Why?"

"To see if we have time for a bubble bath before round two."

"Oh, in that case."  Snape chuckled and released him.

The werewolf took a couple of steps toward his desk, where his clock was perched.  Then he returned to the bed.  "Half past ten," he announced, crawling back under the covers, again laying his head on Snape's chest.

"You weren't thinking of going to the prefect's bathroom, were you?"

"Heavens, no!  I can just see it now.  'Ah, no, Percy--we're not lost.  We just wanted to have a bit of a shag on the marble.  It's so nice and cool.'  He'd have a conniption."

"I imagine so.  Where else can we have a bubble bath?"

"There's another bathroom, just like that one.  I think it was installed for staff use, but I'm fairly certain no one knows about it.  Not even Filch."

"How do you know about it, then?"

"I know this castle inside and out.  I think our only worry will be Moaning Myrtle.  She's a bit of a voyeur."

"Is she?"

"You didn't think that little moniker came from her crying, did you?"

Snape smiled.  "You really are droll, Lupin."

"Thank you, Severus.  I do try."

With a peck on Snape's nose, Lupin stepped out of bed again and padded toward his desk.  He sat, gloriously naked, and began scribbling away on a parchment.  Snape stretched out, hands behind his head, watching the muscles in the werewolf's shoulders and back ripple as he wrote.  Lupin was a little too thin, of course, but Snape had no right to complain about that.  Still, he hoped the house elves might help the werewolf fill out a little.  Lupin was also prematurely grey due to the exhaustion of his transformations, but the salt and pepper at his temples made him look quite distinguished.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"Drawing a map," the werewolf replied, without turning.  "I doubt you'll be able to find the bathroom otherwise."

"We aren't going together?"

"Too conspicuous," Lupin replied, shaking his head.  "I'm indicating the most direct route from the dungeon, but I'll take a more roundabout path.  And I'll see if I can't find Myrtle first and give her a little flush into the lake.  She usually sulks for hours about that.  But--don't worry--I'll know where to look for you if you don't show within a reasonable amount of time."

"What should I say if I run into Filch?"

"Tell him to bugger off ... Wouldn't do him any harm, actually."

Snape smiled again and then got out of bed, walking toward the desk.  Bending over the werewolf, he nibbled Lupin's neck.  Lupin moaned, tilting his head, and then he rolled his shoulder to push Snape away.

"Do you want me to finish this or not?" he asked.

"Not yet," Snape replied.

Grabbing a handful of Lupin's hair, Snape pulled his head backward brusquely.  The werewolf gasped and dropped his quill as Snape kissed him.  Lupin returned the kiss with a fervour, growing ever more passionate the harder Snape pulled his hair.  The Potions master then released his head, pecking his lips.

"Now you can finish," he said with a nod.

"Thank you, sir," Lupin said, smiling.

"Oh, I like it when you call me 'sir'."

"Yes, sir.  I'll remember that, sir."

Snape cocked one eyebrow.  "Don't overdo it."

Lupin chuckled, and Snape turned to dress.  After a few minutes, the werewolf stood, blowing the ink dry.  Then he dressed as Snape studied the map.

"Do you follow it?" Lupin asked, pulling on his trousers.

"Yes, I think I know where this is, actually, but I've never known how to get inside."

"You know the big vases on the pillars?"

Snape nodded.

"Tap the left pillar first with your wand, then the right vase, and say, 'Lavatorium'."

"Lavatorium," Snape repeated.

Lupin nodded, retrieving the lubricant.  "Might need this," he muttered, laying the jar on top of his robes.

"How did you figure this out?"

"I paced off the walls on the floors above and below," Lupin continued, sinking on the bed to pull on his shoes.  "I reckoned there had to be a room about the same size and shape as the prefect's bathroom.  And, since I suspected it was a bathroom as well--"

"Why would you suspect that?"

"There were pipes leading to it.  Anyhow, I tried some Latin dictionaries until I found several possibilities for a bathroom.  The rest was trial and error."

"You know, Lupin--if you'd put that kind of effort into your Potions classes, you'd be able to make your own Wolfsbane Potion."

"Oh, you can bugger off too, Severus!" Lupin snapped, standing and shoving the jar into the pocket of his robes.

Hmmm, I don't know anyone name "off," Snape thought.  What say I bugger you instead?

"I've had more than enough of that from my mother.  I don't need it from you, as well."  Lupin nodded toward the fireplace.  "Floo powder's on the mantel.  I'll see you in a bit."  Then he kissed Snape lightly before heading toward the door.

Snape went back to the dungeon and followed the map until he reached the dual vases and pillars.  Then he looked both ways, drawing his wand, tapping the left pillar and the right vase.  When he said the charm, a wooden trap door appeared in the floor, and he tugged on the large brass ring in the middle to lift it.  Stepping inside, he followed a ladder down into an exact replica of the prefect's bathroom.  He thought about running the bath before Lupin arrived, but decided against that in case the werewolf was held up along the way.  And he was glad he hadn't, because it was nearly twenty minutes before Lupin--looking slightly flushed--descended the ladder.

"I was beginning to think I'd gone to the wrong place," Snape said.

"Ran into Peeves," Lupin replied, "but the Bloody Baron sent him on his way before he gave me too much trouble."

"Did anyone else see you?"

"No.  You?"

"No.  And how's Myrtle?"

"Swimming with the squid."

Unbuttoning his robes, Lupin bent and turned on the taps.  Snape retrieved two towels and washcloths and began to undress as well.  Within a few minutes they were settled into a warm, relaxing, perfumed bubble bath, washing and exploring each other's bodies.  Most of this was perfectly wonderful, but Snape felt a little odd when Lupin sucked his big toe.

"Don't like that?" he asked, eyebrows knitted.

Snape shook his head.

"Worth a try," Lupin said, shrugging.  "I think I know something you will like, though."

He moved closer, sliding his hands up Snape's thighs as he approached.  Biting Snape's neck, he reached down between his legs.  Slowly inserting a finger, the werewolf massaged his prostate.  Even in the piping hot bath, Snape got chills.

"Aaaaahhhhhh," he gasped, shuddering and throwing his head back.  "Now that I like."

"I never would have guessed," Lupin whispered, nibbling his earlobe.

"I want you inside me this time," Snape whispered and, yanking Lupin's head back by his hair, he added, "and that's an order!"

"Yes, sir," the werewolf said, smiling.

"I thought you didn't obey orders," Snape said, his voice as smooth as silk.

"I lied," Lupin replied pleasantly.

"Good.  Then get out and towel off," Snape said, with a jerk of his head in the direction of their towels.  "I want to watch."

When Lupin stepped from the tub, Snape directed the werewolf in exactly how he wanted him to dry his body.  And Lupin followed each of Snape's commands with a grin--bending, twisting, and rubbing as it pleased the Potions master.  Then Snape stepped from the tub and directed Lupin in towelling his body as well.

"Get your jar," he whispered, when he was dried to his satisfaction.

Lupin nodded and quickly located the jar.  Handing Snape the lubricant, the werewolf waited for the next command.

"On your knees," Snape said.

Lupin obediently dropped.

Snape arched a brow.  "I think you know what to do."

The werewolf took Snape in his mouth, sucking him to a full erection.  Then he swallowed Snape's scrotum, teasing each of his testicles with his tongue.  Snape groaned, eyes rolling back in his head.  He still held the jar, but he pulled Lupin's hair with his other hand, and the werewolf made a low, growling moan.

"Stop," Snape said curtly.  He handed the lubricant back, turned, and knelt on all fours.  "Now don't hurt me, Lupin, or I'll have to spank you."

"Promises, promises," the werewolf replied, chuckling.

Lupin planted a light kiss between Snape's shoulder blades before dragging his tongue down his spine.  His fingertips trailed alongside his mouth, barely making contact, teasing the small, fine hairs on Snape's back.  Goose bumps erupted on every square inch of his skin.  Finally Lupin's fingertips and tongue converged on their intended target.  Gingerly spreading his buttocks open, the werewolf licked the hole with light flicking motions.  Snape's eyes went wide and he gasped.

"You don't like that either?" Lupin asked.

"No, that was ... very interesting," Snape replied.

Snape moaned as the werewolf resumed, lapping at him greedily, and he chewed his bottom lip when Lupin inserted his tongue.  The werewolf nuzzled and nibbled Snape's backside while unscrewing the jar of lubricant.  Lupin then carefully, almost lovingly, inserted one finger.  Sliding and stretching, he prepared Snape for entry, pausing only to give his prostate the occasional tickle.  He repeated the process with two more fingers until Snape was ready to accommodate him.  For someone who enjoyed pain so much, the werewolf was surprisingly gentle.

Lupin pulled back for a moment, presumably to lubricate himself, and then positioned his head, slowly sliding in.  Pausing when he was completely inside, Lupin stroked Snape's back softly, and Snape sighed.  Then the werewolf reached around and took Snape's erection in hand, rocking his hips and moving his lubricated hand with the same rhythm.  Leaning over Snape's back, the werewolf teased his nipples with his other hand while whispering the most beautiful things in the Potions master's ear:  how lovely his hair and back were, how good he felt, how warm and soft he was, and how much he loved ... being inside him.

Just the mention of the word "love" made Snape's heart skip a beat.  An instant chill spread through his body from his chest outward.  Even though, in the context, this simple statement of pleasure wasn't an actual declaration of love and implied no deeper feelings whatsoever on Lupin's part, Snape realised he'd never thought of love before, only sex.  He hadn't conceived of falling in love with the werewolf, but ... Now that seemed a distinct possibility--and a pleasant one at that.

The strangest thought occurred to him then.  Previously he was merely having sex with Lupin, but now Lupin was making love to him--gently, sweetly, tenderly making love to him.  And Snape never felt more warm, more accepted, or more wonderful in entire his life.  Lupin wasn't merely filling him with his erection.  The werewolf was injecting him with his kindness, infusing him with his warmth, imbuing him with his--Do I dare I think it?--love.  He suddenly didn't want Lupin to reach orgasm because he never wanted this to end.  But then he thought he might be able to bear that, if he could only see his face.

"Stop!" Snape cried sharply.

Lupin froze.  "Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly, sounding very concerned.

"No ... I just want--to see you."

"Oh, you had me worried."

The werewolf kissed Snape's back and then pulled away.  The Potions master turned and felt himself gaping in awe at this beautiful man kneeling in front of him.  Lupin sat back on his heels, smiling, and put his hand to Snape's face, caressing his cheek with his thumb.  Then, sliding his hand around into Snape's hair, he pulled him close for a kiss.  Snape decided, with his lips and tongue, to attempt to say everything he couldn't verbalise.  And Lupin seemed to understand.  Taking him in his arms, the werewolf slowly lowered him onto the floor.  Snape again tried to communicate everything he felt without his voice, wrapping his arms around Lupin's shoulders and his legs around his waist.

"Make love to me, Remus," he whispered.  "Slowly."

The werewolf closed his eyes, smiling dreamily, when Snape said his first name.  "I will, Severus, and I'm in no hurry."

Lupin slowly entered him again, rocking back and forth, slipping his hand between them to stroke Snape's erection.  Snape lazily caressed the werewolf's back, kissing his neck, his cheeks, his eyes.  And Lupin's mouth also explored every nook and cranny of Snape's skin within reach--kissing, nibbling and sucking--making him shiver and moan.  And they gently moved together for a wonderfully long time.  Their breathing sped up, but their motions did not.

"Do you need me to hurt you to come?" Snape asked, as he felt his own climax building.

"No," Lupin whispered hoarsely.  "I like pain, but I don't need it."

Despite what he said, Snape bit the werewolf's shoulder.  Lupin sucked wind at the sharp sensation, then moaned.

"A little pain never hurts," Snape purred.

"That's true," Lupin replied, smiling.

The werewolf then covered Snape's mouth with his, stealing his breath away in a sweet, soft kiss.  Their lips and tongues slid together as slowly and tenderly as their bodies.  Snape felt drunk when Lupin finally drew back from his mouth.

"Severus, please open your eyes," Lupin whispered.  "I want to look into your eyes."

When he slowly raised his drooping lids, the intensity of the werewolf's gaze was almost too much.  Snape gasped.  Lupin seemed to be looking not into his eyes but into his very soul.  And Snape feared what he might see there.  The werewolf had awakened feelings Snape didn't know he had, hadn't known he was capable of having.

"You have such beautiful eyes," Lupin whispered, tracing gentle fingertips down Snape's cheek.

The Potions master shivered, partly from Lupin's wonderfully husky voice, partly from his words.  No one had ever referred to any feature he possessed as beautiful before.  Now it was too much, and Snape looked away.  Lupin, undeterred, bent his head to kiss Snape's neck, and he felt that kiss not only on the skin of his neck but also in every other part of his body, all at once.  He couldn't hold back any longer.

"Faster," he whispered.

The werewolf immediately increased his tempo.  This slight increment of speed drove Snape mad.  He went under, drowning in the ocean of ecstasy as waves of pleasure crashed over his body.

"Oh Gods, Lupin!  Faster!  Harder!"

The werewolf sped up again, thrusting vigorously and biting his lip.  His expression was pained as he tried to hold back, while pounding the Potions master to another earth-shattering orgasm.  Snape dug his nails into the werewolf's back and sank his teeth deeply into Lupin's shoulder as they climaxed together on the cold marble.  The werewolf kissed him again as Snape's warm semen spread between their stomachs, gluing them together.  And they both smiled--panting, quivering, and clinging to one another.

Once he'd caught his breath, Snape asked, "Are you always this good, Lupin?".

"Hmmm," the werewolf said, thinking.  "Not to be immodest ... yes."

"How is that not being immodest?"

"Well, my modesty prevented me from saying, 'No, usually I'm much better.  I must be having an off day'."

Snape smiled, shaking his head.

After they'd rested a bit, they took another bubble bath, cleaned their clothes with a charm before dressing, and left the bathroom by separate routes, again meeting in Lupin's room.  The werewolf set his alarm for six so the Potions master could slip back to his own room.  Then they snuggled, kissing and fondling, until they fell asleep.  Six o'clock arrived far too early--not because Snape was still sleepy, but because he didn't want to leave the warmth of Lupin's embrace.  He finally managed to tear himself away at half past the hour, but only after a little snogging followed by the werewolf's gentle urging.

"Severus, we have to get ready for work," Lupin said, in his erotically hoarse whisper, pushing Snape away.

"That voice of yours isn't helping matters any," Snape purred, before biting the werewolf's neck.  "You know what it does to me."

"No, I don't," Lupin whispered again--even worse this time, with his lips directly on Snape's ear.  "What does it do to you?"

"This," Snape said, placing Lupin's hand on his now fully stiff erection.

"Oh!" the werewolf said, drawing his hand back in mock surprise.  "Well, we can't have that."  Lupin cleared his throat.  "Severus, we have to get ready for work," he repeated, this time in an almost perfect impression of Professor McGonagall.

Snape went limp immediately.  "Don't do that!"

"Why not?" Lupin asked, wide-eyed and smiling.  "I thought you liked Minerva."

"She's all right, but--"  Snape shuddered.  "Just don't do that."

Lupin was still smiling.  "Will you be thinking about me today?"

"You know I will."

The Potions master dressed and Lupin saw him to the fireplace, kissing him softly before he left.

When Snape said he'd think about Lupin that day, he knew he would, but he never envisioned being quite so preoccupied as he was.  And more than a few embarrassing incidents ensued.  Throughout the day, whenever he caught a glimpse of Lupin in the corridors, somehow the werewolf always managed to give him a furtive wink.  Although he knew no one else was looking, the Potions master blushed furiously each time, his stomach fluttering and his groin twitching.

He'd never understood the phrase "driven to distraction" before, but he certainly did now.  And that was only intensified after lunch.  As he walked by the staffroom door, Lupin lay in wait and pulled him inside.  Closing the door and pinning him against the oak, the werewolf kissed him feverishly.  Lupin then proceeded to talk dirty to him, recounting all the things they'd done the night before and telling him what he was planning to do that night, in the most colourful terms imaginable.  If that weren't enough, the werewolf bucked his hips, grinding his obvious erection against Snape's thigh.  Snape didn't like to think of himself as a prude.  By the time Lupin was finished with him, however, he was certain he'd passed through several shades of red before his face decided on a lovely purple hue.

"Just a reminder," the werewolf whispered, smoothing his robes before leaving.

Snape remained in the empty staffroom for another twenty minutes, until the blood drained from his face and his own erection was completely gone.  Then he headed back to the dungeon for double Potions with the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors.  He almost gave them a particularly dangerous potion component by mistake until Granger, of all people, caught his error.  While again chastising her for being an insufferable know-it-all--this time without taking points from Gryffindor--he was glad she noticed.  The Potions master couldn't imagine what horrors Longbottom might perpetrate with the wrong ingredients; he wreaked enough havoc with the proper ones.

Even the Slytherins observed the difference in their House Head's behaviour.  After class, Draco Malfoy--for once not flanked by Crabbe and Goyle--had come into his office to discuss another matter entirely.  But, before the end of their short interview, Malfoy asked him if he was feeling all right.  Snape thought this was priceless coming from a boy who had sported a fake sling on his arm for over two months in the hopes of getting Hagrid sacked and a hippogriff executed.

"I'm fine, Malfoy," Snape blustered, while making a cup of tea.  "Don't I look all right?"  He adorned his face with an expression that dared the boy to answer that question with a negative.

"Yes sir, you look fine," Malfoy said, his voice shaking.  "Quite well, in fact, but--"

Snape's patience wore thin.  "But what?" he snapped, as he raised his cup to his lips.

"You've put three teaspoons of arsenic in your tea!"

"What?" Snape asked, staring at the jar of poison he'd mistaken for sugar.

Ingesting arsenic would only be a minor inconvenience, as far as Snape was concerned.  The Potions master poisoned his fourth years regularly when they were learning antidotes, and the remedy was as close at hand as the poison.  Malfoy was still a third year, however, and he didn't know this.  Therefore his concern was genuine.  If the boy weren't so completely his father's son, Snape might have even been touched.  As it happened, he was merely annoyed with himself for not having been more guarded.  Malfoy was just the sort of duplicitous creature he didn't need knowing he was involved with another staff member.  But he managed to cover the mistake adequately.

"I told the house elves I wanted sugar cubes for a reason!" he snapped, dumping the tea down the sink.  "Worthless green gits!"

The boy laughed, relieved, as Snape washed his cup.  After losing the family house elf for warning Potter of danger the previous year, Malfoy would appreciate any jibes directed at the species in general.  Thankfully, he swallowed the story and was shortly on his way.

Snape was more or less back to normal by dinnertime.  He and the werewolf had planned to meet again at ten, and Snape--in a rare moment of inspiration--conjured a dozen roses before he went.  When he stepped from Lupin's fireplace, the flowers behind his back, the werewolf immediately came forward to embrace him.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said, smiling.

"Hello, Lupin," Snape replied, presenting him the flowers.

The werewolf's hands went to his chest and his jaw dropped.  "Roses?  For me?  Oh, Severus!"  A quizzical expression crossed his face, and he took half a step backward.  "Wait a moment--who are you, and what have you done with Professor Snape?"

Snape thrust the roses into the werewolf's chest and turned away, embarrassed.  "See if I ever try to do something nice for you again," he grumbled.

"Oh Severus, I'm sorry," Lupin said, laying the flowers on the mantel.  He wrapped his arms around Snape from behind, resting his head against his shoulder.  "I was only teasing.  Thank you for the roses.  I love them."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do.  I didn't mean to insult you.  I have the unfortunate tendency to make light of things whenever I find myself getting too serious.  It's a defence mechanism.  Probably a not a very good one."  Snape could tell Lupin was frowning from the sound of his voice.

"I rather like your sense of humour, Lupin--except when you aim your sharp wit at me."

"I'll try to remember that."  The next time he spoke, Snape could tell Lupin was smiling again.  "Did you think about me today?"

"How could I not with your winking at me at every opportunity?"

"Severus, I'm crushed."  He wasn't.  Snape could still hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, I thought about you.  Entirely too much.  After your little stunt in the staffroom, I could have got us all killed by accidentally giving Longbottom the wrong potion ingredient."

"Don't be so hard on Neville.  We're still here, after all."

"First thing this morning, I walked into one of the dungeon doors, and I nearly poisoned myself at teatime.  Nearly poisoning myself is a common enough occurrence, but I can't believe I actually walked into a door!"

"I'm flattered," the werewolf whispered.  Then he chuckled while running a hand through Snape's hair.

"Well, I'm glad you don't find it as amusing as my fifth-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs did.  They were rolling in the aisles."

"I'm sure you gave them their just desserts."

"I most certainly did.  They lost twenty-five points each."

"Per student?"

"No, per house.  Gods, Lupin!  I'm not that cruel."

"Pity," the werewolf said, shrugging.

"Well, only for you."  Snape turned and kissed him.

"I've had what I think is a marvellous idea," Lupin said afterward, his eyes sparkling.  "Would you like to hear it?"

"I'm all ears."

"How would you like to help me make the Shrieking Shack shriek again?"

"You really are kinky, aren't you?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.

"What gives you that idea?"  Lupin smiled angelically, batting his eyelashes, while Snape rolled his eyes with a derisive snort.  "Well, I just want to christen my old haunts is all," the werewolf said, shrugging.

The Shrieking Shack did indeed shriek again that night, and many more times.  Finally Lupin suggested they should stop going there once the dementors began patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade at night.  As happy as they both were, he feared one of those wretched things might find a way inside, and Snape could see the wisdom in that.  Even though two fully qualified wizards could easily handle a dementor, there was no reason to take any unnecessary risks.

And they were incredibly happy.  So much so Snape found it increasingly difficult to bully his students with a straight face.  Somehow he still managed.  Thankfully, he also got all the potion ingredients right, and he no longer walked into doors.  For the next few months, they spent every night together, alternating rooms, unless the moon was full.  Regrettably, the full moon in December fell on Christmas Eve.

Christmas had never been his favourite holiday, but Snape had so wanted to wake up in Lupin's arms on Christmas morning.  And he definitely wanted to feel the werewolf's soft, reassuring touch after getting a hat with a stuffed vulture out of the cracker he shared with Dumbledore.  He could now look back on the boggart incident and smile--after all, he and Lupin wouldn't be a couple otherwise--but he certainly didn't want the headmaster teasing him about that.

For the majority of December, Snape had racked his mind pondering the question of a suitable Christmas gift for the werewolf.  He could think of absolutely nothing besides new robes, which Lupin was far too proud to accept.  In the end, he decided to play to his strengths.  While he would prefer teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, being an excellent potion-brewer had certain interesting side effects.  One of these was Snape was an excellent cook.  Bending over a cauldron for hours, chopping and mincing components, and working over an open fire without scalding did teach one a thing or two about the finer points of cooking.

Snape had made and wrapped Lupin's gift while the moon was up on Christmas Eve, as he didn't have anything better to do.  He knew the werewolf would still be asleep for hours after Christmas dinner.  So he went back to his dungeon to prepare something else for Lupin to have upon wakening--something that would hopefully make the aftermath of his transformation more bearable.  When the concoction was completed, he ladled it into a covered dish, since ash wasn't too appetising.  Then he put the dish, a bowl, spoon and napkin, and Lupin's Christmas gift on a tray.  After he'd double-checked that he wasn't missing anything, the Potions master dusted the fire with Floo powder, stepping into the fireplace, and emerged in the werewolf's room.

By now, each had an open invitation to visit the other's chambers, although Snape didn't normally go to Lupin's room without his express permission, and especially not the day after the full moon.  He usually let the werewolf come to see him, whenever he felt strong enough.  Lupin's disease embarrassed him, and Snape stayed away out of respect.  But he wanted to spend at least a part of Christmas Day with his lover.

He wasn't too alarmed when he found Lupin still asleep, but the werewolf looked dreadful.  The lines in his face were so much deeper, cavernous darks circles marked the area under his eyes, and his cheeks looked sunken as though all the meals he'd had since September had merely passed right through.  Setting his burden on the bedside table, Snape leaned down to kiss Lupin's forehead.  Then he drew up a chair by the bed and sat, waiting.  Having been up late to prepare Lupin's gift, Snape found he was a little sleepy himself, especially after indulging in an unusually large Christmas dinner.  He must have dozed sitting upright in the chair because he woke with a start when Lupin coughed and cleared his throat.

"Severus?" he croaked, sounding as though his oesophagus were full of gravel.

"Happy Christmas, Lupin.  How are you feeling?"

"Happy Christmas, Severus."  Lupin offered him a weary grin that was a mere shadow of his usual cheerful smile.  "I feel thoroughly drained.  I think I have a fairly good idea of how Father Christmas must feel today."

"Hungry?"

"Ravenous."

Snape pulled his wand to warm his offering, and then set the tray in the werewolf's lap.  Lupin removed the lid and smiled.

"Chicken soup?" he asked.  "I don't have a cold."

"I've read it has soothing properties," Snape said with a shrug.  "I can't do anything else for you."

"Thank you, Severus.  Oh, your gift is in the drawer."  The werewolf pointed at his beside table.  "I hope you don't mind a used book.  I couldn't find it new."

Snape delved into the drawer, pulling out his present.  Lupin nodded, indicating Snape shouldn't wait for him to finish eating before unwrapping it.  When he pulled off the paper, a rare leather-bound volume on the Dark Arts was revealed.  The werewolf probably couldn't afford a new copy even if he'd located one, but Snape wasn't about to complain:  he had been trying to find this particular book for months.

"Oh, Lupin, thank you!  How did you know?"

"I think you've mentioned looking for it once or twice," the werewolf said, smiling.  "I was in Flourish and Blotts for something else, and I happened to see it on the used rack.  I knew I simply had to get it for you."

"Open yours," Snape prompted.

Smiling, Lupin laid down his spoon and unwrapped the box on the tray.  Then he looked puzzled.  Bewilderment was not quite the reaction Snape had expected, and he was more than a little hurt, in addition to feeling just as confused as Lupin looked.  Most people adored his fudge.

"You don't like fudge?" he asked.

"I'm sure I'd love it, but I can't eat fudge," Lupin replied frowning.  "Chocolate makes me terribly ill."

You dolt! Snape thought, wanting to slap himself.  Chocolate is poisonous to canines!

"Oh, I didn't think--I'm sorry," he said, crestfallen.  "I so wanted to give you something nice--"

"Severus, come here," Lupin said, setting the tray aside.

Snape crawled onto the bed, and the werewolf pulled him down against his chest, one arm around his back, the other stroking his hair.

"Don't feel bad," Lupin whispered into his hair.  "I'm terribly hard to buy for.  I know you didn't want to get me robes because you thought I might be insulted ... and I wouldn't accept new robes anyhow, but without that possibility ... Well, there aren't too many other options.  It's not as if shops advertise what to get that 'special werewolf' on your list ... But you've already given me a better present than I've had in a long time, even if I can't eat your fudge."

"What did I give you?"

"You gave me the wonderful gift of being here when I woke after a full moon, wanting to do anything you could to make me feel better.  And, by the way, your soup is exquisite."

Made with love, Snape thought.  No house elf has yet managed that ingredient.  Loyalty alone doesn't give anything that good a flavour.

Only after Snape realised what he'd thought did he know he was indeed in love.  He was still too petrified to tell Lupin that, but just admitting his feelings to himself did wonders for his attitude in the days that followed.  Unfortunately, Lupin still had too much to do for them to spend every waking hour together during the rest of the holidays, but they stayed together every night.  And, when the next term started, Snape found he had to work even harder to bully his students.  After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

No one yet seemed to suspect he and Lupin were a couple.  As neither of them knew for certain how their fellow staff members would take the news, they mutually decided to continue to be discreet.  Dumbledore wouldn't care, Snape knew that much.  In fact, he'd be thrilled they were getting on so well in any respect.  McGonagall would approve, even though the deputy headmistress was a little less open-minded than the headmaster.  She liked Lupin a great deal and would think he'd keep Snape's anger under control.  Sprout--who was as sexually repressed as any good Hufflepuff--would call them deviants; Flitwick would be shocked at first, but he'd eventually accept it; Trelawney would say she'd known all along; Hooch probably leaned toward her own sex herself; Poppy would say they made a cute couple; Binns--well, who really cared what a ghost thought anyhow?

During the first week of classes in January, Lupin was late for their standing ten o'clock appointment on both Tuesday and Wednesday nights.  He wouldn't say what he was doing but, from his secrecy, Snape was certain it involved Potter.  The werewolf wasn't late any more after that, however, so Snape quickly forgot the matter.  Then, on the morning of the first Thursday in February, Lupin asked him to skip dinner if he would.  He wouldn't say why, but Snape agreed.  When the Potions master entered Lupin's room that evening, the werewolf was lighting candles for a romantic dinner.  He turned, smiling, and helped brush Snape's robes before kissing him.

"Mmmm," Snape said, licking his lips.  "Butterbeer."

Lupin nodded.  "I brought a couple of bottles back from Hogsmeade, since Harry hasn't been able to go, and we tossed them back together."

Snape arched a brow.  "As long as you haven't been kissing him."

"Severus, he's thirteen!  I may be kinky, but I'm not that sick.  Besides, he's a friend's son.  It would be like ... incest."  He shuddered.

"Did you--did you ... cook ... for me?" Snape asked, looking past him at the table.

"Er--not exactly.  I placed an order with the house elves, but you did say leg of lamb was your favourite."

The Potions master smiled.  "Well, it's the thought that counts.  Thank you, Lupin."

The werewolf often overcompensated for the full moon nights they couldn't spend together.  In addition to being embarrassed by his "defect" on the whole, Lupin was hesitant to let Snape see him transformed--after that first time in their fifth year--so he locked himself in his office.  Snape didn't question the werewolf's decision.  Even though he no longer woke screaming from nightmares about that experience, he wasn't completely sure he was strong enough to see Lupin in his wolf form.  And he knew he was nowhere near prepared to witness the actual transformation.

Sometime in the week following the full moon, the werewolf would usually surprise him with something nice, like this dinner.  But the full moon was still two weeks away.  Snape was especially surprised the gesture came today, after the news in the Daily Prophet that morning about Sirius Black.  The Ministry of Magic had authorised the dementors to perform their Kiss on Black when caught.  He hardly expected Lupin would want to celebrate.

Despite having been friends with Black at one time, Lupin was morally opposed to the Dementor's Kiss.  Snape knew that much from their talks about the dementors.  One couldn't help discussing dementors with so many of them stationed around the school grounds.  But Snape wondered why Lupin wasn't more upset when he'd read permission was given to perform the Kiss on Black.  After all, they had once been close.  He was determined to keep the werewolf's mind from dwelling on unpleasant things this evening, regardless.  When they sat down to eat, Lupin poured the wine, and Snape raised his glass with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"What shall we drink to?" he asked.

"I'd like to drink to you, Severus," Lupin replied.

"Why?"

"Because you are, without a doubt, the most surly, disagreeable, sarcastic man to ever walk the face of this earth..."

Snape frowned, turning his gaze toward his plate.

"And you're all mine," the werewolf added in a whisper.

When Snape looked up, Lupin was grinning broadly.  The Potions master sniggered, clinking his glass against the werewolf's, and took a sip.

"Lupin, I think your mission to keep me in stitches may not be such a lost cause after all."

Then he leaned toward his lover, kissing him.

Snape knew he was unequal to the task of cheering anyone, at least without applying magic.  In spite of his best efforts, he wasn't the least bit surprised that Lupin looked quite down after their romantic dinner.  He also suspected he knew the trouble.  Snape wanted to make the werewolf confide in him--order him to--but since they were in Lupin's room tonight, that would be inappropriate.

Over the past few months, they had come to a gradual understanding.  When they were anywhere else in the castle, they were equals.  Once Lupin stepped inside the Potions master's room, however, they were Master and slave.  The game had originally been the werewolf's idea, but Snape had taken to the role of Master quickly.  When Lupin told him he had never had a better Master, Snape had been elated.  Lupin's experience in the sexual arena far surpassed his, so Snape was extremely pleased he could make his lover happy, even if he wasn't quite so knowledgeable as Lupin in other areas.

Lupin had introduced Snape to an entirely new world of sexual delights.  In addition to their pain play, when Snape had expressed an interest in bondage, the werewolf had been delighted.  He had immediately taught Snape how to conjure restraints that would bend themselves to the wizard's will, and Snape had found these useful on more than one occasion.

Tonight the werewolf stared into his plate, eyes unfocused, not moving, not seeming even to breathe.  Yet Snape knew Lupin's attention was far removed from the remnants of leg of lamb.  His thoughts were twelve years earlier, on a Halloween night when one of his friends betrayed three of the others, delivering them all to their deaths--two at the Dark Lord's hands, the other at the hands of his own supposed friend.  And the chain of events that followed would result in a fate worse than death being imposed on that remaining friend.  Lupin was struggling with himself for being morally opposed to the Dementor's Kiss while at the same time almost wanting that fate to befall Sirius Black.

"Severus, would you do something for me?" he asked suddenly, not looking up.

Snape took Lupin's hand, placing tender kisses all over the underside; then he held the werewolf's palm to his cheek.  Lupin sighed, closing his eyes.

"You have but to ask, Lupin."

"I want you to utterly destroy and humiliate me tonight."

The words were a shock initially.  To his darker side, the shock was pleasant.  To the side that sincerely loved Lupin, not so pleasant.  Snape studied the werewolf, whose eyes still did not stray from the platter in front of him.  He looked pensive but somehow resigned at the same time.

"Are you sure?" Snape asked.

"Quite," Lupin replied.  "I need it."

The werewolf never looked up as Snape released his hand and rose.  Standing behind Lupin, Snape began to rub his shoulders.  Lupin was incredibly tense, but that was no surprise at all.  His lover was normally cheerful and thoroughly contented with his lot in life--basically Snape's exact opposite.  The werewolf usually had two modes:  pleasant or droll.  Despite that, the Potions master often had to remind himself Lupin was a complex man, capable of complicated thoughts and conflicting emotions.

"Does this have something to do with Black?" Snape asked.

"Can we talk about that after?" the werewolf asked.

"I think honesty is important here, Lupin."

"All right, Severus.  Yes, it has everything to do with Sirius."

Snape bent, wrapping his arms around the werewolf's shoulders.  Lupin finally moved, bowing his head and raising his hands, clutching Snape's forearms as if for strength.  It tore Snape's heart out to see him so morose.  If bringing him out of this state required reducing Lupin to a trembling pulp, a mere shadow of the man--no, werewolf--he now was, Snape was fully prepared to do so.  He thought it best to make certain they had no other avenue available to them first, nevertheless.

"Lupin, you are in no way responsible for Black's actions or his fate."

"I know that, Severus."

"But you still want me to shatter you?"

"Yes.  If you don't mind."

"What sort of Master would I be if weren't concerned with my slave's wishes?"

"Thank you, Severus.  I have only one more request."

"Which is?"

"No sex.  Only pain.  Do whatever you want--including rape--but I don't want anything remotely tender."

Snape's brows knitted.  "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, please," Lupin replied.

"May I ask something of you in return?"

"Certainly."

"Tell me why."

"I want to think of nothing else but the pain you give me for hours afterward.  Not James, Lily, Peter or Sirius.  Just pain."

Snape kissed Lupin's cheek lightly.  "Would you like to go back to my room, or shall we extend our rules to your room for tonight?"

"Let's stay here, if you don't mind, and I don't want any rules tonight.  I want to be completely at your mercy."

"Do you really want to see how cruel I can be, Lupin?"

"I want you to be as cruel as you are comfortable being."

After a long pause, Snape said, "Very well."

The werewolf stood, turning suddenly, catching him in a tight embrace.  "Thank you, Severus."

Snape sighed and stroked his hair.  "Lupin, you know I am more than willing to do whatever you need, but are you sure you wouldn't prefer to simply talk?"

"Not now.  After."

Extricating himself from the werewolf's urgent embrace, Snape lifted Lupin's chin, kissing him lightly and rubbing their noses together.  He then nodded.

"Don't call me 'sir' tonight.  I think that will be too uncomfortable for me."

Lupin nodded as well and dropped his gaze to the floor, indicating he was ready to begin.  Snape pulled his wand while unbuttoning his robes.

"Silencium," he said, pointing his wand at the door.  Shrugging off and laying his robes on a chair, he told Lupin to strip.  When the werewolf's eyes met his momentarily as Snape approached, he backhanded Lupin, splitting his lip.

"How dare you look at me, you piece of filth!" Snape snapped.  "Don't look at me, and don't speak to me unless I ask you a direct question!  Do you understand?"

Nodding, Lupin finished undressing, and Snape kicked his robes aside as if they were infested with fleas.

"On your knees, werewolf!"

He started a slow descent, but Snape grabbed his hair and forced the naked Lupin to the floor.  The werewolf uttered a strangled cry as he crashed down on all fours.  The Potions master chuckled.

"Trying not to scream, are we?  Well, before I'm through with you, you'll scream your throat raw.  Do you know why you're here?"

Lupin shook his head as he raised himself to his knees, arms at his sides.

"Aren't we coy tonight?" Snape asked, beginning to slowly circle the kneeling werewolf.  "I'll tell you why you're here.  Because you have need of a lesson--a lesson in pain.  And I am just the one to teach you.  You have certainly come to the right person, werewolf.  But first, I want to hear you beg me to hurt you."

When Lupin didn't answer immediately, Snape slapped him hard, knocking his head to the side.  Blood and spittle flew from his mouth.

"Don't make me repeat myself!" Snape pronounced slowly, through gritted teeth.

"P-pleassse hurt mme," the werewolf said, somewhat slurred because of his swelling lip, the wound now reopened from the slap.

"Louder."

"Please hurt me!"  With that little yelp, the lip split fully open again.

"Louder!"

"PLEASE HURT ME!!!" Lupin screeched, spraying blood.

"That's better," Snape purred.  "Now, why should I hurt you?"

"Because I want you to."

Snape laughed hollowly.  "Do you think I care a jot about what you want, werewolf?"

"No."

"Then I ask again, 'Why should I hurt you'?"

"I deserve it."

"Now we're getting somewhere."  Snape turned to the small cupboard where Lupin kept his implements of torture.  "Why do you deserve it?" he asked, rifling through the contents, looking for the perfect tool.  Deciding on the riding crop for the time being, Snape turned back to face the werewolf.

"Because I'm a fool," Lupin said.

"Indeed?  I won't say I disagree, but what makes you think you are a fool?"

"I trusted Sirius Black," the werewolf whispered.

"True," Snape said smoothly, tapping the riding crop absentmindedly on the werewolf's shoulder.  "Not one of your better moments."

Snape's thoughts began to race back further than twelve years.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to broach the subject of that night in the Shrieking Shack.  Not because it might be too traumatic for Lupin but because it might be too much for him.  He knew he needed to keep his head tonight--to not let his hatred of Black influence the fervour with which he beat his lover.  But he threw caution to the wind, trusting in his dogged self-control.  After all, if Lupin wanted to be destroyed, that meant Snape must pull out all the stops, including Black's "joke."

"Tell me, werewolf," he said, bending the stock of the riding crop.  "Did it surprise you that Black turned on his friends?  After all, he turned on you before that, didn't he?  Tried his best to have you executed for killing me, didn't he?"  Snape clicked his tongue.  "You really are a bad judge of character."

"Yes," Lupin whispered.

Snape slapped the riding crop against Lupin's back, and the werewolf yelped.

"I didn't hear you," he hissed.  "What did you say?"

"Yes," the werewolf replied in his normal voice.

"Yes what?"  Snape punctuated the question with another strike, this time across the werewolf's shoulder.

"Yes, I'm a bad judge of character."

"That was rather stupid of you, wasn't it?  Trusting in Black?"

"Yes."

"I remember from school.  You were a fairly bright ... cub.  Why would you do something so stupid?"

Lupin mumbled incoherently, more of a sob than anything else, although he wasn't crying.  Snape didn't need to understand what he'd said to know what he meant.  But he had Lupin repeat himself regardless.

"I didn't hear you, werewolf," he hissed, emphasising the "hear" with a sharp slap of the crop to Lupin's backside.  "What did you say?"

"I said, 'I loved him'," the werewolf replied, in a small, quavering voice.

Snape laughed wickedly, raising Lupin's chin with the crop so he could look him in the eye.  He saw only sadness and self-loathing there.  These emotions contrasted so pointedly with Lupin's normal expression, Snape was momentarily taken aback.  He forced himself to hold Lupin's gaze stoically, however, and then curled his upper into a sneer.

"You loved him, did you?"

"Yes."

Raising one inquisitive eyebrow, Snape poked the tip of the riding crop into Lupin's chest.  The werewolf didn't lower his gaze this time, but the Potions master was glad of that because Lupin's eyes had taken on a manic glint.  His hands were still at his sides, but he'd balled them into fists.

"Do you want me to punish you for loving Black?"

"Yes!"

"Want me to beat it out of you?" Snape whispered harshly.

"Yes!" Lupin bellowed, trembling.

Snape knew that could never be.  If Lupin had been in love with Black, then he would be mated to Black for life.  The thought of attempting to beat that love out of him, however--his own selfish desire for Lupin to love him instead--made the prospect extremely arousing.

"Well, well," Snape purred, rubbing his chin.  "You certainly know how to motivate me, werewolf.  Before, I merely took pity on your wretched hide, but now ... Now I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

With another whack on the werewolf's backside, Snape told Lupin to lie on his bed, face down.  Retrieving his wand, Snape conjured cords, tying Lupin's hands and feet to each of the four posts.  He wouldn't gag Lupin for this phase.  He wanted to make certain the werewolf could beg for mercy, were he so inclined.  And, since Snape wasn't completely confident about doing this in the first place, Lupin's pleas would not go unheeded.

Raining down with the riding crop, Snape proceeded to beat every inch of the form prostrated in front of him.  And Lupin screamed.  After ten minutes of almost constant blows, the majority of the werewolf's skin was red and welted.  Snape stopped to make a quick examination of Lupin's hands and feet.  While the cords were indeed chafing Lupin's wrists and ankles as he struggled, his hands and feet were still warm, so he was not bound too tightly.  Even though attempting to be as cruel as he could in good conscience, Snape refused to ignore basic safety.  Lupin was far too precious to sustain permanent damage.

Snape then went back to Lupin's cupboard to retrieve the next tool:  a metre stick.  After another ten minutes with this, he was more than a little impressed with how much pain the werewolf could take.  His screams grew more hoarse, and he writhed more, but he never asked for any relief.  In fact, Lupin showed no ill effects whatsoever besides the slight beginnings of bruises, although those would be gone by morning.  Snape then decided to move on to the next phase.

He snapped his fingers, and the cord binding Lupin's left wrist unwrapped from the bedpost, slithering toward the werewolf.  The loose end climbed over Lupin's right shoulder, then under his left arm.  After three passes, the cord had drawn the werewolf's hand to his sternum and pulled itself taut, tucking the loose end under.  With Snape's next snap, the cord binding Lupin's right wrist mirrored this action.  The legs would be a little trickier.  Snape snapped again, and the cord on Lupin's left leg unravelled from the bed.  This end slithered around Lupin's inner thigh and wrapped his thigh securely to his calf before tucking its end away.  And, with the last snap, the last cord bound the werewolf's other leg.

Very nice, Snape thought, turning Lupin's head to face him while admiring the prone foetal position into which the werewolf was now contorted.  Unfastening and stepping out of his trousers, Snape wiped the emission from the tip of his erection, smearing the liquid down the werewolf's cheek.

"Now, you little lupine slut, why don't you suck my cock like I know you want to?"

Lupin obediently opened his mouth, but Snape didn't wait for the sensual treatment the werewolf usually provided.  Instead, he rammed himself down Lupin's throat, gagging him.  He stopped only when Lupin threatened to vomit and, possibly, bite reflexively.  Then, bending and retrieving the werewolf's underwear, Snape balled the fabric and shoved the garment gruffly into Lupin's mouth.

"Now, my dear little werewolf," Snape purred, crawling on the bed and pushing Lupin into the mattress by his shoulders.  "I'm going to try everything in my power to make you come.  But, if you know what's good for you, you will do everything in your power to prevent that."  Again Snape chuckled.  "Not that there is much you can do."

Due to his girth, this was probably going to be almost as uncomfortable for him as it was for Lupin.  Snape took a firm hold of the werewolf's upraised hips, violently shoving himself inside without any preparation.  Lupin screamed into the fabric of his underwear.  Snape steeled himself against the discomfort to give his slave the debasement he'd requested.  After a few slow but firm thrusts, the werewolf's body relaxed, and Snape began to enjoy the sensation.  Repeatedly reminding himself Lupin had solicited this treatment, he bent to grab the werewolf's hair and take his erection in hand.  He pounded, stroked, and pulled hair mercilessly as Lupin's breathing sped up.

"Now don't come, my little werewolf," he cooed.

With another wicked laugh, he tried even harder to make that very thing happen.  But Lupin was admirably self-deprecating and stubborn, and Snape burst into guilt-ridden bliss before the werewolf climaxed.  Resisting--with every fibre of his being--the urge to whisper he loved him, Snape planted a delicate kiss on the nape of Lupin's neck.  Then, crawling off Lupin's back and falling on the coverlet beside him, he removed the cloth from the werewolf's mouth.  Lupin coughed and breathed deeply as Snape caressed his cheek, indicating his torture was complete.

"Do you need something to drink?" he asked, again testing the temperature of Lupin's extremities.

The werewolf shook his head.

"Would you like me to untie you now?"

"No, actually," Lupin croaked.

"Very well.  I'll leave you bound for a while, since you look so nice this way.  Do you mind if I loosen the ropes a bit so I don't have to worry about you if I fall asleep?"

Lupin shook his head again and, snapping his fingers, Snape made the cords relax their hold.

"Better?"

The werewolf nodded.

"How about if I hold you?" Snape asked.  "Would that help or hinder?"

"I wouldn't mind resting my head on your arm," Lupin croaked again.  "But I don't want you to hold me."

Snape scowled.

"I know you want to, Severus, but I'm not quite finished relishing my punishment yet.  Does that make any sense?"

"I suppose."

"I'll let you know when I'm prepared for kindness and affection again," Lupin added.  "Besides, there's a certain comfort to these bonds.  You conjured them and took such care wrapping them around me so, in a way, you are holding me."

Nodding, Snape gently rolled Lupin onto his side, facing away from him.  The redness on his back was already turning black and blue, due to his highly accelerated healing.  From previous experience, Snape knew Lupin healed from any injuries exceptionally quickly.  Even those times when he had inadvertently drawn blood, such as the night in the hidden bathroom.  In the furore of orgasm that night, Snape had clawed Lupin's back to shreds.

Not that the werewolf had cared in the slightest.  In fact, the pain probably excited him all the more.  Because Lupin hadn't complained, Snape had only realised the werewolf was bleeding when the bubbles in their bathwater were tinged pink.  By the time he'd turned Lupin around to examine the wounds, however, the scratches were all but gone.  And, by the time they woke, Lupin's bruises would be all but gone.  His split lip was also already well on its way to mending.

Strangely, Lupin didn't have any scars on his back, other than--under his right arm--the bite marks of the werewolf that infected him, now stretched and distorted by his growth.  Judging from the size of his muzzle the one time Snape had seen Lupin transformed and the size of his chest now, he must have been younger than five when bitten.  Snape wondered why Lupin, who adored pain and wasn't the least bit squeamish about his own blood, hadn't delved into heavier sadomasochism, the kind of play that drew blood and left scars.

Pulling the covers over them both, Snape slid one hand under Lupin's neck.  He then laid his head back on the pillow with a heavy sigh.

"Thank you, Severus.  I know that was difficult for you," the werewolf said, answering the uncertain questions in Snape's sigh.  "Let's rest a little, and then we'll talk more.  All right?"

Snape grunted an affirmative, although he still wanted to order Lupin to confide in him.

When Snape woke, a few hours later, he immediately felt of Lupin's hands and feet, which were still warm.  His back, as Snape suspected, bore only the faintest tinges of yellow and green now--the normal colouring for week-old bruises.  Snape snapped his fingers, causing the cords binding the werewolf to disappear altogether.  Almost at once, Lupin turned and buried his face in Snape's chest.  Pleasantly surprised, Snape smiled, stroking Lupin's hair softly.

"Thank you, Severus," the werewolf whispered against his skin.  "For everything."

"I take it you are prepared for kindness and affection again?" Snape asked.

"I have been for the past half hour, but you were still asleep."

"Gods, Lupin!  Why didn't you wake me?"

"You worked a bit harder than I did.  I thought you could use the rest."

Snape shook his head.  "I wanted to hold you as soon as you were ready."

"You didn't--"  Lupin broke off, searching Snape's face intently.  "You didn't think I was rejecting you because I didn't want to be held, did you?"

"Well, yes!  I did just rape you, after all," Snape replied, with a shrug.

"Oh Severus, you didn't rape me!" the werewolf gasped, shaking his head.  "Please don't think that!"

"What would you call it, then?"

"My delightfully large lover being none too gentle," Lupin replied with a grin.

Pushing the werewolf away, Snape sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the bed.  His further response of making a disdainful noise and burying his face in his hands wasn't so much aimed at Lupin's joke as it was his disgust with himself.  Giving Lupin a vigorous beating didn't bother him.  In fact, Snape enjoyed inflicting pain quite a bit.  Causing the werewolf pain as foreplay or during sex didn't trouble him either, as Lupin had never been shy with regard to showing his appreciation.  But rape was quite another matter entirely.

Before that night Snape had never, even for a moment, considered raping Lupin--with good reason:  the werewolf was all too eager to please, and his libido was more than satisfied.  Sometimes it bordered on exhausted.  Forcible intercourse had never entered Snape's mind for the simple reason that rape was not sexual.  Rape was about power, and that was a power Snape wasn't sure he wanted to exercise over Lupin.

As a Death Eater, he had seen the emotional havoc rape wreaked on its victims, although he'd never done that himself.  He left those contemptible acts to Malfoy and other such Death Eater cretins.  Snape understood logically that all of his and Lupin's little sexual games were about power, pain, and control.  But Lupin was the man he loved, and he didn't want to blur the lines of power and sex too much.  Or, for that matter, to associate himself in any respect with likes of Lucius Malfoy--even if for only a fleeting instant and then only in his own mind.

Lupin sat up as well, wrapping his arms around Snape's waist.  The werewolf apparently saw through his evasive manoeuvre immediately.

"Now, Severus," Lupin gently chided, kissing Snape's shoulder.  "Don't go thinking you're a monster because of that.  Remember, I was the one who suggested it."

"It must have hurt awfully," Snape replied, with a shrug, for lack of anything better to say.

"No, it hurt wonderfully!  Just enough.  If you'd been the slightest bit gentler, I would have exploded in half that time.  And then you would have to think of yet another punishment because I came without your permission."

Snape's eyes grew wide in amazement.  "You enjoyed that?"

"Good Lord, yes!  You had every nerve in my body on edge.  If you hadn't already beaten me so expertly, I would have come the second you penetrated me."

"What do you mean, if I hadn't beaten you so expertly?"

Lupin chuckled and took Snape's hand, kissing the back before drawing it down onto the bed.  Placing his palm over a large, sticky puddle on the comforter, the werewolf kissed Snape's cheek.

"I was already thoroughly spent," Lupin whispered in his ear, with a light flick of the tongue on the lobe, while caressing the back of Snape's hand with his fingers.  Then he shrugged and smiled with a shyness Snape would have never thought him capable of.  "Of course, you never said I couldn't come while you were beating me, did you?"

Snape shook his head, smiling and pulling the werewolf to him.  Lupin stroked his hair for a while and then lowered Snape back down on the bed.  Cuddling up to his chest, Lupin planted light kisses on his skin in the intervals as he continued speaking.

"You didn't force yourself on me, merely in me.  I knew I could depend on you to give me what I needed, even if that involved things you would never do otherwise.  But you've no reason to feel guilty, Severus.  You did nothing wrong.  In fact, you did everything right.  I couldn't have asked for better.  This guilt is all my fault.  I shouldn't ... I shouldn't have forced so much unpleasantness on you."

"Lupin, you don't honestly think I would desert you in your hour of need?"

"I know you wouldn't.  That is exactly the problem.  I shouldn't be so demanding."

"Before this, you haven't been demanding at all.  Whatever you need--I am here for you, except..."

"Except what?"

"I'm sorry about the kiss at the end," Snape whispered.  "I know you said you didn't want remotely tender, but I felt compelled to kiss you."

"No, no, that's fine," Lupin replied, smiling and shaking his head.  "That's the point, after all.  I was at your mercy, for pleasure or pain, or whatever else you wanted to do to me."

"Oh, so you mean I could have simply done nice things to you?"

"Yes.  I would have been angry and frustrated, since that's not what I asked for, but I would have recovered."

"Why did you want me to do all that?"

Lupin sighed heavily, turning on his back.  "I've felt dreadful ever since I read the Daily Prophet this morning.  Well yesterday now ... As much as I hate the idea of the Dementor's Kiss, I lost everything that was important to me in one night, all because of Sirius Black."  He then twisted the bedcovers tightly in two white-knuckled fists.  "I want--I want him to have his soul sucked out through his mouth, and I--want--to--watch."  After a long pause, his hands relaxed and he released the comforter.  "And I hate myself for it," he added, in a whisper.

"I understand, Lupin."

"And I don't want to feel so strongly about this, because that means I still care about him, more than I want to admit."

Snape swallowed, glad the werewolf wasn't looking at him just then.

"You were right, Severus.  I was extremely stupid to trust him, especially after what he did to--to us..."  The werewolf trailed off and turned back to look Snape in the eye.  "I've just realised we've never talked about that night," he said hesitantly.

"That's true," Snape replied, trying to affect a disinterested tone.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"I think we should," Lupin continued, undeterred.

"Why?  So you can tell me you had nothing to do with it?  I'm already convinced of that.  So I can work through my fear?  Too late on that score, as well ... I'd prefer we forget it ever happened and try to get on with our life."

"Our life, Severus?" Lupin asked.  "You know, that has a nice ring to it..."

Snape kissed the werewolf's brow, again wanting to tell him he loved him.  Instead, he said, "Go to sleep, Lupin."

"Yes, sir," the werewolf replied, smiling and kissing his chest.

For once, Snape didn't sleep well wrapped in the werewolf's embrace.  Neither the night at the Shrieking Shack nor any ghosts of his time as a Death Eater haunted his sleep.  His dream, however, was equally disturbing.  He dreamed of raping Lupin in earnest, and--just at the point of orgasm--slitting his throat.  The images and sensations were entirely too vivid:  the werewolf's body beneath him, himself buried in Lupin to the hilt, the warm blood gushing onto his hands, followed by the death quiver.  Only when he sat up, panting and drenched in sweat, did he realise Lupin was still alive and lying next to him.

"Severus?  Severus, are you all right?"

Lupin's calling his name cut through the haze of panic.  A gentle hand caressed his face, and tousled hair tickled his cheek as warm lips brushed his neck.  Snape slipped one hand around the werewolf's waist while covering his eyes with the other.  He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, before answering.

"Yes Lupin, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?  I smell adrenaline, and you're all sweaty."

"I thought you liked me sweaty," Snape said, turning toward the werewolf and cocking an eyebrow.

"Severus, I'm serious!"

Snape bit his cheek hard to keep from saying something to the effect of "Odd, you don't look anything like him."  One jest to diffuse the tension was more than enough, and he didn't think further references to Sirius Black would improve the situation.  He certainly didn't want to set Lupin thinking about Black again.  That would only negate all the supposed good he'd done the werewolf earlier, and he'd do anything to avoid necessitating an encore of that evening's performance.

"That's a change," Snape said.  "You're sombre and I'm making jokes."

Lupin gave an exasperated sigh, and Snape drew him closer to his side.

"I'm fine, Lupin.  Merely a nightmare.  Nothing important."

"Because of what I asked you to do?"

"Probably, but don't trouble yourself about it."

"Severus, I'm so sorry."

"Lupin, don't be sorry!  Gods, the last thing I want right now is your pity!"

The werewolf's face twisted in anguish, and Snape threw his other arm around him, crushing Lupin against his chest.

"Forgive me, Lupin!  I didn't mean that."

"I don't pity you, Severus!  I ... I ... care about you.  I pushed you too far, and I shouldn't have."

"I will recover, Lupin.  Truly I will.  I've done worse than that--just never to a friend or lover.  Now I've done it to both at once."

"Is there any way I can make it up to you?" the werewolf asked timidly.

Snape thought for a moment.  "There may be ... Let me try to make us both come without hurting you for once."

The werewolf pulled back, frowning.  "Severus, I don't need tha--"

"No, Lupin.  I need to do this for me ... There are more than a few confused thoughts rolling about in my head--grey areas I need to sort out ... I enjoy hurting you in some ways because I know you enjoy it, but the rest ... Well, the lines are fairly blurred at the moment--"

"Irrevocably?"

"I don't know.  That's what I'm attempting to discover.  I need to see if I ... if I can still be kind, and if I can enjoy myself when I am."

"I have complete confidence that you can," Lupin chimed.

"Perhaps so, but I don't," Snape maintained.  "Indulge me, Lupin."

"Certainly, Severus.  I won't desert you in your hour of need, either ... It may take me a while, though.  I'm not used to gentle stimulation any more."

"Let me worry about that.  And, as you once told me, 'I'm in no hurry'."

They were both going to be exhausted the next day, but he had potions to deal with their fatigue.  Some things were more important than sleep.  Snape counted his sanity and his love for Lupin among them although, at this point, he wasn't certain which took precedence, or which was more threatened.

Rolling Lupin on his back, Snape began with a kiss--tentative at first, but growing deep, slow and soft.  This was the sort of kiss that would have marked the beginning of their relationship had they been lovesick teens when they were together at school.  Strangely kissing the werewolf always felt new, as though they were exploring one another's mouths for the first time.  And he hoped he'd never lose this amazingly unsettled feeling in his stomach.

If only Snape had been able to admit he'd worshipped Lupin in school, how different things might have been!  He might have never become a Death Eater.  Black might have never played his horrid prank on them if he'd known Snape only wanted to love Lupin, not hurt him.  Lupin might eventually have volunteered that he was a werewolf.  He might even be mated to Snape now instead of to Black, free to love Snape as much as Snape loved him.

Such thoughts, however, would serve no constructive purpose, so Snape attempted to push them aside.  He and Lupin were no longer schoolboys.  They were schoolmasters in their mid-thirties.  Dwelling on the past would only make him bitter, and he didn't want that--not where Lupin was concerned.  What was done was done, and there was no turning back.  It was high time to go forward--as well as downward, from Lupin's soft mouth to his neck.

Gentleness was almost a lost art to Snape, so rarely he'd practised it.  He found, however, if he kept the notion in his head that he and Lupin were naÔve schoolboys, groping one another for the first time--not jaded men, seeking solace in each other's arms from the abundance of wounds life had inflicted--the urges to bite and scratch abated.  And he kissed and suckled and savoured the taste of Lupin's skin to no end.  The werewolf made soft cooing sounds, nothing like the screams of mingled pain and pleasure earlier, as he ran his hands through Snape's hair.  Lupin also shivered, which was promising.

Next, Snape moved on to Lupin's chest.  Nuzzling the small patch of hair in the exact middle, Snape kneaded the werewolf's nipples, which awakened almost immediately to greet his fingertips.  He then sucked them each in turn, nibbling one gently while teasing the other with his hand, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb, or twisting just below the point of pain.  Lupin's hips jumped appreciatively while his erection--now also awakened in greeting--twitched in response.

Sliding further down the bed, now with his long legs hanging off the end, Snape slipped his left arm between the werewolf's legs and under his backside.  Resting his hand firmly on Lupin's lower back, Snape turned his hips to move him onto his side.  Barring a quick swipe of his tongue to the tip, however, he ignored the werewolf's erection completely, letting the engorged warmth rest against his face.  He nestled in Lupin's pubic hair, taking in the gloriously musky smell and gently pulling hairs with his teeth.  And the werewolf's hips rocked, brushing the shaft of his erection against Snape's cheek.

Turning his head, Snape licked the upper surface of Lupin's erection, tracing the pronounced veins with his tongue.  Running his moistened lips along the shaft earned him a chorus of enthusiastic groans.  And, as he took Lupin into his mouth, he also buried a finger inside him, searching for the magical gland the werewolf had taught him by proxy to manipulate so expertly.  Lupin's breath accelerated almost immediately.

"Oh, God!" he panted.  "You're getting so good at that!"

"Thank you, Lupin," Snape purred.  "I did have rather a skilful teacher."

Snape had certain advantages in that his fingers were long enough to easily reach Lupin's prostate.  With only a slight curl of the first joint, he could stroke the werewolf to madness, but that wasn't all he had in mind for the evening's festivities.  He sucked furiously and massaged gracefully, and Lupin was almost howling with pleasure--not pain but mere pleasure.  When Snape slowed his pace, to cool the werewolf's passion a bit, his plans of kindness alone were very nearly thwarted.

"Bite me!" Lupin moaned desperately, trembling.  "Oh, God!  Please bite me!  Please, Severus!"  The werewolf launched into a litany of "pleases" that made Snape's head swim and almost convinced him to grant the request.  Almost.

"No!" Snape snapped when he mastered the urge to sink his teeth in Lupin's creamy skin.  "Be quiet!  If you must do something with your mouth..."

He slid his right hand toward Lupin's face.  The werewolf fell silent, ironically looking wounded, but Snape made him forget his pique when he turned his attention to preparing Lupin for entry.  And the werewolf obediently sucked his fingers as a seemingly adequate pacifier.  He was still breathing heavily, but now only made muffled groans.

Lupin's body was still thoroughly relaxed from their earlier encounter and the delicate foreplay, but Snape used extra lubricant, just to be certain.  Probably far too much in the werewolf's opinion, but he would merely have to suffer for once.  Snape repressed a chuckle at that particular contradiction, lying back on the bed once he'd finished his, for once gentle, ministrations.

"Now, straddle me," he said.

It almost angered him that, even when he was trying to be tender, he couldn't avoid giving orders.  Any irritation soon left his body, however, and was replaced by the sensation of warm pleasure that followed when Lupin slid into place along his aching erection.  The werewolf rode him slowly and gently, eyes closed and growling.  And Snape stroked Lupin's erection at a matching cadence, pulling the head low on his stomach, almost identically to how he would pleasure himself.  That was almost how it felt, as if they were one being.  Witnessing and participating in Lupin's gratification was so similar to giving himself pleasure, only more wonderful.

Only then did Snape notice his lover was uncharacteristically subdued.  Other than the rumble in his throat and his breathing growing more rapid and pronounced, Lupin made no noise, even when Snape could tell from his expression that he was approaching orgasm.  In fact, the werewolf was biting his lip, seemingly to keep from crying out.

"Lupin, what are you doing?" Snape asked sharply.

His tone was laced with more annoyance than he'd intended.  Lupin's eyes snapped open and his head jerked down toward Snape.  He looked alarmed.

"Severus, I--"

"Just because I'm not hurting you," Snape explained quickly, "doesn't mean I wouldn't still enjoy hearing you scream."

"Oh.  Oh!  Oh!  OH!  OH!!!"

Snape was fairly certain the first was meant only in reply but, once Lupin knew he had permission to be vocal, that immediately triggered his release.  His eyes rolled, his head flopped lazily from side to side, and his speech quickly degenerated into the unintelligible wails normally accompanying orgasm.  While his semen shot onto Snape's chest, Lupin's muscles clenched, clasping Snape's erection in their loving embrace, sending him instantaneously into the realm of total bliss.

The werewolf crumpled into a heap on his chest, and Snape enfolded him in his arms.  They lay completely still for the longest time, as their erections faded and their breathing returned to normal.  The only sound and movement followed Snape's erection softening enough to allow him to slip out.  That caused them both to shiver and moan.

This act didn't completely allay his fears, but it helped some.  If he could only hear Lupin say he loved him just once, even if it was a blatant lie, Snape thought he'd feel so much better.  And he would never--could never--say such a thing first.  When Lupin moved to lie on the bed next to him, Snape planted his hands firmly on the werewolf's hips, arresting his escape.

"You aren't going anywhere!" he purred.

Lupin halted immediately, but asked, "Are you sure I'm not too heavy?"

"No, Lupin, you're fine.  I want you on me right now."

"Any particular reason?"

"Several.  I want to feel your hot breath on my neck and the tickle of your chest hair as it brushes against my skin.  I want the warmth of your closeness.  Most of all, I want to know you aren't disgusted with being near me."

"Not a chance, Severus!  I love--being close to you."

Far more than a crumb, but I've had worse feasts.

Lupin settled onto his chest with a contented sigh and kissed his neck softly, as Snape stroked his back in long, fluid strokes.

"Why weren't you making any noise?" he asked.  "At the end?"

Lupin raised his head to look Snape in the eye.  "You told me to be quiet," he replied innocently.  "I was following orders."

"I meant I didn't want you to beg me to bite you."

The werewolf chuckled.  "Then you should have been more specific."

Lupin sighed again, resting his full weight on Snape's body and nestling his head against the Potions master's neck.  And Snape wrapped his arms around the werewolf's back, turning his head to kiss Lupin's brow.  Eventually, they both went back to sleep.

When Snape woke a few hours later, Lupin was no longer there.  After so much time, both of them were accustomed to sleeping in the same bed.  Rolling over and missing the werewolf's warm body snuggled up next to him--as Lupin normally was without fail--was more than enough to wake him on any given day.  After the previous night, however, and his many and sundry worries, he wanted the extra comfort of waking with Lupin next to him.

Snape sat up when he heard sounds coming from the lavatory.  Lupin probably again thought he required more sleep, so he didn't bother to wake him when he rose to ready himself for the day.  As they were also quite used to rising early enough to get back to their respective rooms in time to change, Snape wasn't the least bit surprised when the clock began to chime the hour:  six o'clock.

Walking to the loo, he saw Lupin shaving with his straight razor.  The werewolf was still stark naked.  Lupin seemed, even in the cold castle, to enjoy parading around without clothes.  Snape wasn't sure whether this was simple exhibitionism or merely to tempt him personally.  Either way, he wasn't complaining.  The werewolf's body was beautiful, and he couldn't get enough of the sight.  Lupin had certainly filled out in all the right places over the past few months.  Regular meals seemed to agree with him, and Snape was more than satisfied with the house elves' artistry.

Lupin seemed to have recovered his former good humour.  He was smiling as much as shaving would allow and humming softly.  Snape leaned against the wall, watching raptly.  When the werewolf finally noticed his presence, he took in the Potion master's expression in the mirror with a warm smile.  In the light of day, Lupin's smile made all the horrors of the previous night disappear in a wisp of smoke.  Snape approached, standing behind the werewolf, and wrapped an arm around his waist, grinding his morning erection against Lupin's backside.

"Knut for your thoughts," Lupin asked, rinsing the blade in the washbasin.

Snape leaned forward, taking the razor.  Lupin immediately straightened his back and stood completely still.  The Potions master placed a firm hand on the werewolf's forehead to hold him in place.  Bending his head around Lupin's neck, Snape gently pulled the blade up his cheek, finishing off the last stray patch of stubble there.

"I was just wondering," he purred, "why you insist on shaving this old fashioned way when every other wizard in the civilised world removes his hair with a charm."

"There's no fun in that," Lupin replied, his eyes twinkling.  "No risk."

"Really?"

Gently but firmly, Snape applied more pressure to Lupin's brow, tilting his head backward as he began to shave the werewolf's neck.  Lupin swallowed and then sighed, leaning against Snape's chest.

"You can do it if you want, Severus."

"Do what?"

"Cut my throat."

Gods!  How did he know I've thought about that?

Something primitive in Snape's viscera jumped as the images of his nightmare flooded back in full force.  Even though he had killed countless times as a Death Eater, he'd always done so with a curse.  And his baser side had always wondered what it might feel like to kill someone with his bare hands.  Yet he imagined his extremely realistic dream the night before would be enough to tide him over for the remainder of his life.

A small smile played at the corners of the werewolf's mouth.  Could this be nothing more than another of Lupin's many experiments?  Slitting his throat would be relatively harmless for him, as long as no silver came into contact with the cut.  No doubt he would lose a great deal of blood, but the wound would probably heal within an hour of its own accord.  He probably wouldn't even need to go to the hospital wing--not that seeing Poppy was an option.

Even if it wouldn't be fatal, the prospect was still extremely distressing.  For one thing, there was no possible way they could conceal the evidence.  At the least, Lupin would have a horrid scar.  Neither of them would be able to explain that away.  But that wasn't the only thing bothering Snape.  He felt the werewolf had not only seen into his nightmare--fuelled by the lingering images of the rape/murders for which Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair had become renowned--but also into the blackest, most evil part of his soul.  And, even more disturbing, those nefarious desires did not seem to faze Lupin in the slightest.

Why wouldn't that bother him?  Well, he does know I was a Death Eater, so he must know I've killed before...

"I imagine you've never cut someone's throat," Lupin said, bending to rinse his face.  "And we both know it won't kill me.  If you'd like to indulge a dark fantasy..."

The werewolf's voice was so calm it was unnerving, although it had a husky, provocative edge--a timbre that usually drove Snape wild.  He felt too faint to be aroused, however, especially after his recent dream.  His knees turned to jelly, black clouds formed at the periphery of his vision, and his stomach lurched as beads of cold sweat sprang up on his forehead.  Snape only realised he was trembling when Lupin took the razor away from him, again rinsing the blade in the washbasin.

In the mirror Snape saw what little colour he usually had had drained from his face.  His sallow countenance was now ghostly white, even down to his lips, which he tried to lick, only to find he had not a drop of spittle to spare.

"Why--why do you think I'd want to cut your throat?" he asked, his usually silky baritone voice quavering.

"Just a suspicion," Lupin replied, turning suddenly and looking very concerned.  "Clearly, I was wrong.  I'm sorry if I scared you."

The werewolf tried to draw him into his arms, but Snape turned away, burying his face in his hands.  Lupin walked around to face him, taking hold of his wrists and easing his hands away from his face.

"Severus, you look pale.  Are you quite all right?"

"No, Lupin!  I'm not 'quite all right'!" Snape snapped, pulling his arms from the werewolf's grasp.

"I'm sorry, Severus.  I never would have said that if I knew it would affect you like this."

"HOW DID YOU THINK IT WOULD AFFECT ME?"

Lupin flinched, his doe-like eyes glistening with tears that grew larger by the second.  He blinked and the drops finally fell down his cheeks, beginning an almost constant stream.  A sudden surge of protectiveness welled up in Snape like a cauldron overflowing, and he gathered Lupin in his arms.  He knew instantly this urge to shelter Lupin from harm was the source of his anger, not Lupin himself, despite his outrageous and unconscionable suggestion.  The werewolf was certainly not to blame.  He didn't know about Snape's dream.  Had he known, he never would have proposed such a thing.

"Oh, Lupin, I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to yell like that."

"Please forgive me," the werewolf whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Shhhh," Snape said, stroking his back.  "It's all right.  But, Gods, Lupin!  Why would you even think I'd want to do that?"

"Oh Severus, you do care about me!"

"Of course I care about you, you daft git!  I certainly care enough not to want to slit your throat!"

The werewolf wept violently, his chest heaving, spilling his warm tears all down Snape's neck and chest.  Snape cupped his hand to the back of Lupin's neck drawing him as close as possible, wrapping his other arm around the werewolf's shoulders.  Lupin's arms snaked up his back, his fingertips digging into his flesh until it smarted.  Snape had a fairly low pain tolerance himself; at this particular moment, however, he didn't care.  The werewolf could adorn his back with a hundred Sickle-sized bruises, but he wouldn't release Lupin now for the world.

Besides desperately wanting to comfort his lover, Snape was almost stunned.  He'd never seen the werewolf cry.  In fact, he'd never even thought about a werewolf being capable of crying before, as Lupin was normally the most cheerful person he knew.  By this time, Snape was accustomed to Lupin's making jokes as a defence mechanism.  Even with all the horrors Snape had subjected him to the previous night, Lupin hadn't cried.  Tears were unfamiliar territory, and he wasn't completely sure how to deal with this situation.

"I'm ... sorry ... Severus," Lupin choked out between the sobs wracking his body.  "I ... I went ... too far ... again..."

"Lupin, it's all right," Snape soothed.  "It probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if I hadn't already thought about doing that very thing before.  But it was never in reference to you--just nameless, faceless people.  At least until last night ... That dream I had--"

"You dreamed you--cut my throat--last night?"  Lupin staggered against Snape's chest as though his knees suddenly stopped working.  "Oh, God, Severus!  I'm so sorry!  I didn't know--"

"There's no way you could have known, Lupin.  You aren't Dumbledore, after all."

The werewolf made a sound that was half sob and half chuckle as he gripped Snape's back tighter.

"And I wasn't about to tell you the subject of my dream last night," Snape continued.  "I was shocked just now that you seemed to know me so well ... But I--I could never do that to you."

Lupin groaned, shaking his head against Snape's chest.  "You weren't upset because I was wrong about you.  You were upset because I was right.  Oh, God, Severus!  I feel terrible!"

"Don't, Lupin!  It was a shock, but I'm all right now ... You think the semblance of killing you wouldn't bother me, even if I knew you wouldn't really die?"

"Oh ... I thought ... well, since you were a Death Eater ... I naturally assumed..."

"You assume correctly, but I've tried to put that behind me."

"I'm sorry."

"You can stop apologising.  I've forgiven you.  But ... why would you want me to slit your throat?"

Snape pulled back and cupped Lupin's face in his hands.  The werewolf hesitated, took a deep breath, and shook his head while dropping his gaze to his feet.

"It's not important, Severus.  Forget I said that."

"Lupin, that's hardly fair," Snape said, raising the werewolf's head to meet his eyes.  "You cannot ask me to do something as drastic as that without at least telling my why you would want such a thing."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Give me a little more credit than that, will you?"

"All right ... Because I trust you."

"You trust me enough to allow me to slit your throat?" Snape asked, dubiously, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Lupin turned away.  "I knew you wouldn't understand."

Wrapping his arms around werewolf's chest, Snape kissed Lupin's shoulder, and leaned his head against the werewolf's neck.  "I'm trying to understand, Lupin," he said gently.  "I really am.  Just when I think I've finally figured you out, you knock me for another loop.  But I more than willing to listen if you are inclined to explain."

Lupin inhaled deeply and sighed, pulling Snape's arms tighter around him.  "I've found many people who were willing to hurt me over the years.  A few I've trusted a little, others not at all.  Some would do some of what I asked; others couldn't care less; still others made certain I couldn't even ask.  Do you follow me?"

"I think so," Snape said quietly.

"But you're different, Severus.  You do care what I want, and I trust you never to venture beyond what I can tolerate.  You proved that wonderfully last night.  Even though you were doing things to me that clearly concerned and frightened you, you never once frightened me.  You always stopped to check my circulation, and you were concerned with my needs before your own.

"I have been in situations before--when I was younger, more naÔve, or merely stupid--in which I was tied up, beaten, and left for dead.  Sometimes I had to wait for the spell on the cords to weaken enough so I could get loose.  Even worse was when the ropes weren't magical.  Those situations frightened me, but I know you would never do that, Severus."

"Of course I wouldn't!  You are much too valuable to me!  Besides, I'm selfish.  I wouldn't want to be without you long enough to leave you for dead."

Lupin sighed again.  "I just feel so safe with you!  I know that sounds childish, but that's the only way I can explain it.  And it isn't merely that you are an excellent potion-brewer who can make the Wolfsbane Potion.  Don't get me wrong--I am immensely grateful not only that you have the ability but also that you take time out of your busy schedule to brew for me every month.  That potion keeps me sane, and I know I can never repay you for that.

"But, compared to the rest of what I feel, the Wolfsbane Potion is but a drop of water in a vast ocean.  Whenever I'm with you, wrapped in your arms, I know somehow everything will be fine.  I feel as though--well, as though I'm home.  At first I thought it was merely being back at Hogwarts, but that isn't it, although I have experienced some of the best times of my life in this castle.  It's so much more than the location.  I feel as if with you is where I'm supposed to be, no matter what place you call home ... I'm sorry, Severus.  I'm babbling.  Am I making any sense at all?"

Snape nodded against, then kissed, Lupin's neck.  "You're making perfect sense, and this type of babble is fine with me anytime."

The werewolf sighed more heavily and swallowed.  "Now for the difficult bit ... I suspected you might have thought about cutting someone's throat--the look in your eyes while you were shaving my neck certainly said so, and ... well, this is going to sound silly, but ... I want to do everything with you.  Everything I've done previously, and all those things I've always been too afraid to try.  Because I feel safe with you, and I know I can trust you."

"That's very sweet--in a bizarre sort of way."

The werewolf turned, smiling through his tears.  "You don't think I'm horribly sick?"

"No!" the Potions master cried, again embracing him.  "Absolutely not!  I've known people much sicker than you.  I think..."  Snape pulled back, cradling Lupin's face in his hands, wiping his tears with his thumbs.  "I think you are perfectly wonderful.  And I could easily ask you the same thing about me, you know?"

"My answer would be the same."  Lupin smiled again and then shook his head.  "My God, Severus!  Why were we so stupid when we were younger?  We could have been this blissfully happy every day since we were sixteen."

Snape smiled.  "I was thinking that myself just last night--all the standard 'what ifs.'  But, as much as we both would enjoy erasing the past, we can't go back, Lupin.  Instead, let's treasure what we have now."

The werewolf nodded enthusiastically, smiling, and again nestled in Snape's arms.

I love you, Lupin.

Snape was just about to open his mouth to speak when the werewolf cleared his throat, moving away.

"In answer to your question earlier, the real reason I shave this way isn't so much for the razor as it is for the strap."

Lupin hooked his finger in the metal ring, lifting the object from where it hung on the wall.  The sharpening strap was of a very simple construction--simple but elegant:  an almost two-foot long and three-inch wide piece of finished leather, three-eighths of an inch thick, with a metal ring on one end that served as a hanger or, for the purposes of their play, a handle.  Leaning against the washbasin, the werewolf caressed strap of leather as if it were his favourite pet.

"Comes in handy for spankings, at a pinch," he said, smiling.

"Do you think we have time to try it out before our first class?" Snape asked.

Lupin frowned.  "Unfortunately, no.  Would you like to try it tonight?"

"Yes, I think I would."

Snape had seen the strap hundreds of times.  He had even watched Lupin expertly sharpening his straight razor against the leather.  But he never thought about using the strap for a spanking before.  And, since Lupin was usually the one suggesting new ideas, Snape wondered why he hadn't proposed using the strap before today, as it was clearly an old friend.  Did the werewolf consider this a commitment of some sort?

"You seem to be looking forward to this as much as I am," Lupin said, smiling.

"Actually, I think I am," Snape replied, nodding.

The werewolf smiled and embraced him.  "I knew I was right about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, all I've ever wanted was someone I trusted to hurt me, just like all you've ever wanted was for someone to be genuinely nice to you."

Relieved Lupin couldn't see his face, Snape got chills as yet again the werewolf appeared to peer directly into his soul.

"I know it took us a while," Lupin continued, "but I'm glad we finally found one another.  I can say without hesitation I've never been so happy in all my life."

"Neither have I," Snape said, and kissed him.

Unfortunately, they couldn't hole up in Lupin's WC and kiss all morning.  Sooner or later, classes would intrude, so they reluctantly parted for work.  As soon as he could get to the dungeon, Snape took an anti-somnolence potion, and then he brought another to Lupin's office.  And they managed to make it through the day with few lingering effects from their mostly sleepless night.

Throughout the day, the Potions master counted the minutes until he could see the werewolf again.  Although Snape didn't see him at lunch, Lupin was present at dinner that night in the Great Hall.  Every time he glanced at him, Lupin was doing something decidedly arousing with his fork, but always so the other staff wouldn't notice.  Snape wasn't sure how of much of Lupin's slyness was due to the wolf's instincts, but somehow he always knew when other eyes were on him.  And when they weren't.  And he used this to his full advantage.

Snape shifted in his chair to conceal his forming erection in the folds of his robes.  You are certainly earning your spanking tonight, Lupin, he thought.  No, actually, you enjoy that too much, so that won't do.  I'll have to think up another punishment.

What they had done the night before had been, without a doubt, the most intense turn their play had so far taken.  At first Snape had been concerned about doing something like that in Lupin's room, in addition to his many other reservations.  He felt he could better slip into the role in his domain, the familiar surroundings of his room.  But he pushed that fear aside when he realised why Lupin had chosen his own room.  His little werewolf had apparently not wanted to taint their normally light-hearted play with the gravity of what he had requested the previous night.  Snape could see the wisdom in that, and it had been little enough to ask.

As long as they had been dispensing with their normal rules, Snape had in return requested that Lupin not call him "sir."  That was, of course, how the slave showed his respect for his Master.  But it was more than that:  Snape also saw it as a term of endearment, since Lupin rarely said the word without a grin on his face.  He had known he would have to distance himself emotionally in order to perform properly.  And he hadn't been sure if he could deliver for Lupin--or even get through the evening himself--if the werewolf kept whispering endearments to him.

Thankfully, Lupin had been satisfied with his performance.  They both had survived, relatively unscathed, and in the process, they had learnt a great deal more about one another.  While Lupin's offer of allowing him to cut his throat was shocking and unsettling, perhaps even misguided, it was also sweet and extremely trusting.  Once he'd got past the initial shock, Snape could smile when he thought about that.  He never had any real intention of slitting the werewolf's throat, but the gesture was still touching.  In a way, Lupin was saying, "My life is in your hands."  Even if he would never love him, Lupin trusted him implicitly.  And Snape considered that quite an honour.

Settling on a better punishment didn't take long.  Before the previous night, Snape had never realised Lupin could have an orgasm from pain alone.  In fact, he would not have thought that possible.  Lupin surprised him, but this was an extremely interesting development.  And Snape wondered how much of that furtive orgasm had to do with the friction of the comforter.

For this evening's merriment, he decided to tie Lupin in an upright position, just to be certain the werewolf didn't sneak another orgasm past him.  While he was relieved Lupin had enjoyed the previous evening to that extent, Snape felt quite the fool for letting his little werewolf deceive him in such a way.  In fact, he'd stewed--wickedly, though not angrily--on the matter most of the day.  He was determined such a thing would not happen again.

Snape had not actually expected Lupin to have an orgasm while being "raped," but he'd made certain he'd denied permission beforehand, as an added bit of cruelty.  Then later, Lupin's self-imposed silence, which Snape was not entirely sure wasn't insolence on the werewolf's part--disobedience cleverly disguised as obedience--seemed also to control his orgasm.  The idea of not letting Lupin climax until Snape was ready for him to was another extremely arousing prospect.  That would definitely need further study.  And it would also make the perfect punishment.

After dinner, Snape went back to his room to make plans for the evening.  He would have an hour or so before Lupin arrived to construct a mental list of possibilities.  If he'd thought about it ahead of time, he would have brought the sharpening strap back that morning in order to practice, but he was confident he could improvise.  When the werewolf arrived, he wasted no time in removing the strap from his robes and knelt, presenting the object to his Master.

"Anxious, are you?" Snape asked, arching one eyebrow.

Lupin smiled sheepishly.  "Yes, sir."

"Well, I'm going to make you wait a bit.  You were very bad at dinner tonight."

"I thought you'd like that," Lupin whispered.  He actually had the nerve to pout.

"I did like it," Snape replied.  "Entirely too much.  That is why you must be punished."

"Yes, sir," Lupin said, hanging his head.

Snape raised the werewolf's chin to look him in the eye.  "Oh, do lighten up, Lupin.  I promise you'll enjoy this punishment ... Stand up."

When the werewolf had risen to his feet, Snape jerked his head back by the hair and kissed him.  He then drew his wand, turning toward the door.

"Silencium.  Don't want to wake the headmaster, do we?  Now, undress me--slowly."

"Yes, sir."

Lupin did as he was told, carefully removing Snape's clothes, folding them neatly, and kissing each new bit of skin he uncovered.  Snape revelled in this little ritual the werewolf made of worshipping his body.  Even if he had given him a command, Lupin's adulation certainly wasn't forced.  Snape knew he wasn't a handsome man by any stretch of the imagination but, for some reason he couldn't fathom, the werewolf seemed to think him quite appealing.  By complimenting features others ridiculed and in many other small ways, Lupin made Snape feel he was the most attractive man on earth.

"Shall I undress as well?" he asked, kneeling in front of Snape when he had finished the task.

"As much as I like the look of your naked body ... no.  That's a part of your punishment, although it hurts me as much as it hurts you."  Snape paused, laying his wand on the bedside table and stretching out on his four-poster.  "Now, before I spank you, I want to come in your mouth."

"Yes, sir," the werewolf replied, kneeling on the bed and smiling.

"You see, Lupin?  I told you you'd enjoy this punishment.  Just remember, the sooner you make me come, the sooner you get your reward."

Lupin didn't seem to need that reminder, but Snape thought he'd mention it anyhow.  Once the werewolf had sucked him stiff, he wet his middle finger with saliva, inserting it to massage Snape's prostate.  With his teeth planted firmly behind his lips, Lupin applied the most amazing pressure to Snape's erection as he moved forward and sucked when he moved back.  Gently twisting the shaft with his other hand, the werewolf had him panting inside of two minutes.  When he wasn't trying to tease him, Lupin was extraordinarily good at this.  Snape attempted to lie still, to no avail.  Sitting bolt upright as he climbed the summit of pleasure, he thrust into Lupin's mouth, pulling the werewolf's hair and yelling.

"Oh!  Gods!  Lupin!  Oh yes!  Just--like--that--Oh GODS YYYYYEEEEESSSSS!!!"

Snape lost all words, gritting his teeth and grunting like an animal, spilling his semen into the werewolf's soft, talented, wonderful mouth.  Then he fell back onto the covers, trying to catch his breath.  Lupin brought him to orgasm so quickly, he hadn't even time to sweat.  But no doubt he would be able to work up a proper sweat during the spanking.

"Did that please you, sir?" Lupin asked, crawling onto him and kissing his neck.

Not yet able to speak, Snape nodded, wrapping his arms about the werewolf's shoulders, drawing Lupin's head down onto his chest.

"Am I forgiven now?"

Snape nodded again, still gasping for breath.  "Yes ... I think ... that rather ... makes amends ... but you will ... still have to ... wait a bit."

"Yes, sir," Lupin said, snuggling up to him, caressing Snape's chest with that light touch that always gave him chills.

When he'd caught his breath, Snape told the werewolf to strip, also slowly, as he directed his movements.  And Lupin cheerfully complied, bending and stretching to display his body fully to his Master's appraising eye.  He then knelt by the side of the bed, sitting back on his heels and waiting to receive further instruction.  Snape stretched his hand out, lazily caressing the werewolf's hair.

"So sweet, so good, so obedient," he purred.  "You make a very good slave, Lupin."

"Thank you, sir," Lupin replied, eyes cast downward and even blushing a little.

Sitting up, Snape raised the werewolf to his knees and kissed him.  Then, with a playful swat to Lupin's backside, he rose and walked to the foot of the bed, beckoning the werewolf to follow.  He conjured cords binding Lupin hand and foot--in a standing spread-eagle position--to the bedposts, facing the headboard.  Caressing him from behind, Snape toyed with the diamond-shaped tuft of russet hair in the exact middle of Lupin's chest.  Then, running his fingers over Lupin's nipples, he found they were rock hard.  He gave them both a twist, while biting the werewolf's shoulder, and Lupin gasped.

"You really are beautiful, Lupin," Snape whispered against his ear, sliding his hands over the werewolf's chest in slow, fluid movements.  "I could stand here, just gazing at you, for hours.  But I won't be that cruel.  Not tonight anyhow."

First the Potions master gave Lupin the once-over, running his hands and mouth everywhere--caressing, licking, kissing, and biting.  Snape found not a single feature of Lupin's body less than attractive:  the nape of his graceful neck; the soft curve as neck sloped into shoulder; the projection of shoulder blade only visible with the arms stretched out to the sides; the small circle of erect nipples; the faint lines of ribs, not nearly as obvious as before; the angle as torso slanted into hip; the pucker of flesh joining bone in the lower back; the thin trail of hair from naval to groin; the now only slight ventral protrusion of hip bones; the gentle outcropping of backside, more succulently prominent than in previous months; the half-awakened erection; the subtle curve of buttocks melding into strong thighs; the expanse of ginger-coloured hair covering the legs; and last, but certainly not least, Lupin's beautiful face.

As Snape inspected his property, Lupin's head rolled and lolled in appreciation or occasionally snapped upright as Snape sank his teeth into the werewolf's buttery skin.  Low growls erupted from Lupin's throat, turning to moans or yelps, and back into growls.  And his eyes were closed so he could drink in the sensations without his vision impeding his enjoyment.  The werewolf opened his eyes only when the caresses ceased, as Snape turned to retrieve the sharpening strap.  Hooking his fingers in the ring, he curled the strap over his own shoulders and around his back a few times.  Lupin gasped with each slap of the leather, straining to turn his head and licking his lips.

"What's the matter, Lupin?"

"Sir ... that was just so..."

"What?"

"Exciting, sir!"

"Don't get used to it.  I don't particularly care for pain myself, but I've never used one of these before.  I have to calibrate my strokes."

After Snape was satisfied with how much strength he needed to put behind his blows, he repeated the process of his previous caresses on the werewolf's skin, this time using the strap instead of his hands.  Lupin closed his eyes again and moaned, apparently enjoying the leather's texture.  With the first lick of the strap, across his backside, he gasped and bit his bottom lip.  By the fifth lash, he was moaning and writhing against the cords and--much to Snape's surprise--he was already very hard.

"Do you like that?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir," Lupin replied.

Snape stopped briefly to nibble the werewolf's earlobe while fondling his scrotum and stroking his leaking erection from behind.  Moaning, Lupin began to thrust into the sleeve of his hand.

"Do you like this?" Snape breathed in his ear.

"Oh yes, sir!  I love it!"

"Which do you like better?  This or the strap?"

Snape slid his hands up the werewolf's chest, letting the ring of the strap dangle from his thumb, the end of the leather hanging just above Lupin's crotch.  The werewolf fell abruptly quiet and still.

"Did you not hear me, Lupin?"

"I--I heard you, sir.  I'm simply not sure."

"Interesting.  Would you like me to do both again, so you can make up your mind?"

"Yes, sir.  That would be nice."

Snape slowly trailed the hand with strap dangling from it downward, and Lupin inhaled sharply.  When he pumped the werewolf's erection a bit more, letting the carvings on the metal ring roughly graze the tender skin, he thought Lupin would go mad.  Then he stopped, purposely avoiding striking with the strap again.

"Well, which would you rather I do?"

"Don't I get the strap to compare, sir?"

"You know what the strap feels like, don't you?" Snape purred before nibbling Lupin's neck.  "Which would you prefer?"

"Both, please, sir."

Snape chuckled.  "Lupin, I'm hardly coordinated enough to do both with any degree of skill, so decide which you want."  After half a minute's pause while kissing the werewolf's neck, he asked, "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"No, sir."

"Why are you attempting to lie to me?  I know which you want, so just say so."

Lupin made no reply.

"Would it help to know I truly have no preference?"

"Oh, yes!  Please, sir!  The strap, please!"

"That's what I thought you'd say."

Snape chuckled again and stepped around to the werewolf's left side.  He folded his arms over Lupin's suspended arm, allowing the end of the strap dangle casually.  Lupin turned his head, never taking his eyes off the leather, and Snape smiled in amusement.

"This is all about you, my beauty," he purred.  "You tell me your fantasies, and I will do my best to make them all come true, one by one.  But the first step is always that you must tell me.  Only then can I make you happy.  Honesty is the key, Lupin."

The werewolf was holding his breath.  His only concern seemed to be being beaten until he came.

"Lupin, are you paying attention?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was there something you wished to say?"

"I wanted to ask if you would spank me some more, sir."

Snape's eyebrows rose.  "You don't enjoy having my undivided attention whilst I look at you?"

"No sir, I do, but--"

"But what?"

"I want the strap!"

"You will have it soon enough, never fear.  You are being punished for your hesitation.  When I ask you what you want, you will tell me honestly--and immediately.  Don't waste time deciding what you think I want to hear ... Now, you may attempt to persuade me to continue."

"Please, sir!  Will you please spank me some more?  Please, sir!  Please spank me!  Please?  PLEASE, sir?  PL--"

"Enough!  You beg very well, Lupin."

"Thank you, sir."

Snape resumed and, before long, the werewolf was again yelping in pleasure.  And Lupin groaned, sounding frustrated, when he stopped.

"You do like that, don't you?" Snape whispered, lips against the werewolf's ear, caressing his chest.  This time he purposefully let the strap brush against Lupin's erection, and the werewolf rocked his hips, desperate for even that tiny bit of friction.

"Yes sir, very much," Lupin answered, panting and moaning.

With his fingers on Lupin's chin, Snape turned the werewolf's head to face him.  Lupin was flushed, his chest heaved, and he looked so beautiful this way.  Snape suddenly wanted to lick every inch of his body.

"How much do you like it?" he asked.  "Enough to beg for more?"

"Oh yes!" Lupin gasped.  "Please don't stop, Severus!"

Snape slapped him sharply, sending his head flying toward the other bedpost.  When Lupin faced him again, there was a flare of panic in his eyes.  He knew he'd erred.

"Forgive me, sir, please!" he said quickly.

"Did I give you leave to call me by name?" Snape asked.

"No, sir.  I got carried away!"

"It appears you've earned a real punishment this time."

"Oh no, sir!  It won't happen again!"

"Your pleas are falling on deaf ears."

His slave knew that was his cue to be quiet.  Snape laid the strap on the bed, turning away.  He walked toward the fire, moving his armchair so he could see his little werewolf but so Lupin couldn't see him.  Inverting a small hourglass, Snape sat and began to read.  He had learnt early on the most effective punishment for his slave by far was simply being ignored.  The "hourglass" only took a quarter of an hour to drain, but the werewolf always acted as if it took months.  Lupin strained to turn his head, watching the grains of sand drop from the top through the narrowed opening to the bottom.

The hourglass was merely a prop.  Lupin knew that.  So was the book, more or less, although Lupin didn't know that.  Snape would always attempt finish the current chapter before resuming.  Reading was extremely difficult, however, with this beautiful man tied up and helpless just ten feet away from him.  Snape also quickly discovered his susceptibility to Lupin's pleas, both verbal and non-verbal.  In fact, Lupin's voice box applied in nearly any capacity tended to excite him.  He always wanted to give in if the werewolf begged or whimpered, so he required absolute silence during Lupin's punishments.  And, if he didn't want the glass inverted again, the werewolf wouldn't make a peep.

Lupin was lucky tonight:  it was a short chapter.  Snape was only a paragraph away from the end when the last few grains of sand reached the bottom.  Not that he cared in the slightest what the book said at that point.  After half way, he'd only skimmed the lines, his gaze climbing more often than not over the top of the book to Lupin's beautiful body and rosy skin.  When the sand had all drained, the werewolf's breathing sped up but, other than that, there was no discernable difference in the noise level of the room.  Marking his place, Snape stood and replaced his book.  Then he crossed the room toward Lupin.

"Good slave," he said, caressing the werewolf's back.  "You didn't make a sound.  You've earned the right to speak freely again."

"Thank you, sir," Lupin said.  "Am I forgiven?"

Snape snapped his fingers to relax the cords.  Taking hold of his hips, he inched Lupin backward as each of the four ropes slithered around the bedposts, unwinding themselves to give a foot more slack.  He ducked his head under the werewolf's outstretched arm in order to stand against the footboard.  Taking Lupin into his arms, he kissed him tenderly.  He then pulled back with a smile and eased the werewolf's head down against his neck, stroking his hair.

"You know you're always forgiven once your punishment is completed," Snape whispered.  "Why do you insist on asking?"

"I like to hear it, sir," the werewolf replied.

"Very well, Lupin.  You are forgiven."

"Thank you, sir.  Will you spank me some more now?"

"Yes, I think I'd like that."

Snape kissed him again, while reaching one long arm down onto the bed to retrieve the strap.  Hooking his fingers inside the ring, he sent the strap curling around Lupin's back while still kissing him, and Lupin gasped into his mouth.  He pulled him closer, digging the werewolf's redeveloping erection against the dull throbbing in his own groin.

"I take it you like that?" he asked, again whispering in Lupin's ear.

"Oh, yes!" Lupin panted, rocking his hips against Snape.  "Thank you, sir!"

"You really are a little slut, aren't you?" Snape purred, before licking the end of Lupin's nose.

"Oh, yes, sir!" Lupin said, locking his smouldering eyes onto Snape's while still bucking his hips.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm a slut, sir!"

"You'd like to hump my leg, wouldn't you?"

With that question, Snape twisted, thrusting his left knee between Lupin's thighs.  And the werewolf took advantage of the extra play in the ropes to latch on, grinding his erection furiously against Snape's leg.  Snape smiled and again curled the strap around Lupin's back.  This time the blow trailed down and around his right hip.

"Yes!  Yes!  Yes!" the werewolf yelped.

"Oh, you are deliciously wanton, Lupin," Snape purred, withdrawing his leg.  "I adore your enthusiasm."

"Thank you, sir."

Snape stepped back outside the ropes, snapping again to tighten the cords, which pulled Lupin forward until his knees almost touched the footboard.  Bending around his chest, Snape drug his tongue from the werewolf's chest hair, down his stomach, toward his erection.  While taking Lupin into his mouth and lightly sucking, he again sent the strap flying, catching the werewolf from left hip to right shoulder.  Lupin's pelvis jerked up and forward, almost gagging him.  He'd know better than to do that again.

Stepping back, Snape struck again in a downward arc.  The strap traced a path from the werewolf's right hip around his inner thigh.  And Lupin yelped and moaned again.  Snape landed blow after blow, and the werewolf--physically and vocally--showed his appreciation for every one.  Occasionally stopping to caress him, Snape would whisper how wonderful Lupin looked, tied up like this, and how much he loved to see his reddened skin.

He raised some beautiful welts, which would become just as lovely bruises, although they would fade within hours.  Snape nearly mourned not being able to enjoy the look of his lover's bruised backside the next day.  And that seemed to be Lupin's least favourite aspect of his "defect" as well.  Any good masochist such as he would love to admire and feel the effects of his injuries for days afterward.

Unfortunate for both of us, Snape thought, shaking his head, before kissing the breathless werewolf.

"Would you like to fuck my red, welted arse, sir?" Lupin whispered hoarsely when he drew his lips away.

"Yes, I think I would."  Snapping his fingers to disintegrate the ropes, Snape nodded toward the bed.  "On your hands and knees before me, slave."

"Yes, sir!"

Lupin practically leapt onto the bed, looking over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.  Snape could but snigger at his slave's eagerness, and the werewolf's smile only grew wider.  He nearly said he loved him then, but thought better of it, his own smile fading.

"Is something the matter, sir?"

"Ah ... No, Lupin.  Everything's fine," he replied, turning to retrieve the lubricant.

Kneeling between the werewolf's calves, Snape laid the shaving strap within easy reach on the bed and lubricated them both.  Lupin was relaxed and receptive, and Snape slid home with a groan.  Picking up the strap, he leaned forward, whispering in the werewolf's ear.

"We're going to try a little experiment tonight, slave," he purred, twisting his fingers in Lupin's hair.  "I haven't forgotten your surreptitious orgasm last night, and your Master wasn't entirely pleased by that behaviour.  So you will recompense now.  As I will be ... otherwise occupied ... you will take yourself in hand."  He paused so Lupin could shift his weight to one hand and grasp his own erection.  "But you will not come until I say so."

"Yes, sir."

Snape had the werewolf as a great disadvantage by having already had an orgasm earlier.  Straightening, he bore down hard, pulling Lupin's head backward by the hair and slinging the strap around both sides of the werewolf's chest as Lupin masturbated himself.  Soon the werewolf was panting, but his yelps--in time with Snape's thrusts and slaps of the sharpening strap--were muffled.

"Lupin, are you biting your lip?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, stop!"

"I--can't--take--much--more of--this--sir!  O-oh!  May I--please come?"

"I think you'll be surprised by how much more you can take, Lupin," Snape purred.  "You'll have to be patient.  But I want to hear your struggle.  Remember, this is a punishment."

The werewolf gave a frustrated groan.  After a few more minutes, Snape noticed Lupin was no longer masturbating, but rather gripping the base of his erection tightly.

"Lupin!" he snapped.

"Sir?" the werewolf asked innocently.

"You're cheating.  Stop that."

"But sir--this is--so--difficult."

"I never meant for it to be easy."

The werewolf went back to stroking his erection, but only for a minute before again begging for release.

"Oh, God, sir!  Oh!  May--I--please--come?"

"No!"

Tossing the strap aside, Snape paused for a moment, leaning over Lupin's back and turning his head to kiss him.  Then he took over stroking the werewolf's erection.  He held Lupin's head in place by the hair, thrusting ruthlessly, while kissing and biting his neck and shoulders.  And, after a few more minutes, the werewolf's pleas started anew.

"Oh, GOD!  Oh!  Please, Master?  OH!  May I PLEASE come?"

"Not yet, Lupin!" Snape snapped.

He was now holding back, as well.  Lupin bucked and yelped and moaned as Snape's movements worked him into a mercilessly restrained frenzy.  Only when he resolved he could no longer stand it himself did he decide to give the werewolf release.

"Beg me again, slave!" he hissed in Lupin's ear.

"PLEASE, Master!  Oh GOD, sir!!!  OH!  MAY I PLEASE COME?!?"

"Three ... two ... one ... now!"

As his semen gushed over Snape's hand, Lupin let out a howl that would have put an entire pack of wolves to shame.  And, since he was reasonably certain the werewolf couldn't hear him over his own yelling, Snape whispered he loved him against the skin of Lupin's shoulder.  Only half a heartbeat later, Snape's own orgasm burst forth.

For a long moment, he clung to the werewolf as they both trembled.  When Snape released him, Lupin immediately collapsed onto the bed.  He cuddled up to the werewolf's back, putting both arms around him.  Snape kissed Lupin's neck and shoulders as the werewolf licked his hand clean.

"You certainly know how to be cruel, sir," Lupin said, when he'd finished his task.

"Yes, I do," Snape purred.  "My punishments must make an impression, so you'll remember in the future.  And you will now, won't you?"

"Yes, sir."

Lupin rolled over suddenly and kissed him, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck.  Snape's eyes went wide momentarily, and then fluttered closed.  The werewolf was certainly never shy about showing his regard, even if he would never be fortunate enough to hear Lupin say he loved him.

Even though Snape usually fell asleep with his longer body wrapped around Lupin, he'd noticed a disturbing pattern of rolling away from his beloved werewolf while he slept.  The Potions master could consciously make himself relish closeness when he was awake.  While asleep, however, he retained the unfortunate habit of turning away from people.  Thankfully, Lupin's slumbering form always rolled with him.  He rarely woke without the werewolf either sprawled across his chest or spooned up against his back.

When Snape woke--how much later he wasn't sure--it was to Lupin's caressing his chest while kissing and nibbling his shoulder.  One of the werewolf's hands trailed down his side, fingertips lightly touching, from chest to knee.  Lupin's other hand gingerly pulled Snape's hair back from his neck to expose more skin.  And the werewolf rocked his hips, rubbing his erection against Snape's backside, as his lips, teeth, and tongue awakened more than just Snape's consciousness and goose flesh on his skin.

"Lupin?" Snape asked, groggily.

"Sir, I want to make love to you," the werewolf whispered.  "May I?"

"Haven't you had enough for one night?"

"Enough of you, sir?  I don't think that's possible ... Would you allow me to please you?"

"You may call me by name now, slave."

"Thank you, Severus.  May I please you?"

"There are many ways in which you please me, Lupin.  That is but one of them."

"Please, Severus?  I want to make love to you."

"You're going to run me out of anti-somnolence potions."

"I'll help you make more."

"Thank you, no, Lupin.  I'd prefer that they actually work."

The werewolf chuckled as his hand wandered around Snape's hip to fondle the beginnings of his erection.  Snape moaned and moved into the gentle caress, as the werewolf sucked and nibbled his earlobe.  Apparently his little slave was not to be put off.

"Neither of us have had enough sleep in the past few days, Lupin," Snape purred, grinning wickedly.  "Convince me you really want this--and talk dirty."

"Severus, I want to fuck you.  I want to bury my cock in your hot arse, and feel you squirm, and hear you moan, and make you scream when you come.  I'll fuck you however you want:  soft and slow, or fast and hard.  And I'll stroke your big, gorgeous cock until you come all over my hand, and I'll lick up every delicious drop.  Oh, God--I want you so much!  Please let me fuck you, Severus!"

"You can be very persuasive when you try," Snape said, with a pleasant shiver.  "Very well.  Get the lubricant."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" the werewolf gasped, before kissing and nibbling Snape's neck again.

"I believe I gave you an order, Lupin."

"Yes, sir."

The werewolf jumped up in search of the jar, while Snape retrieved his wand from the bedside table, magically stoking the fire, before throwing off the covers.  When Lupin returned, he immediately snuggled up to Snape's back, apparently intent on kissing his neck and caressing him some more.  This time, however, Snape turned suddenly, surprising Lupin with a passionate kiss.  He drew the werewolf closer, until the whole of their bodies touched, and their twitching erections danced and pulsated against one another.  When Snape broke the kiss, he stared deeply into Lupin's eyes.

"I want soft and slow, and I want you to talk to me," he said.  "You don't have to talk dirty now, and I don't really care what you say, but I want to hear your voice the whole time.  Understood?"

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said, smiling.

Turning on his side, Snape put one foot flat on the mattress to allow Lupin to prepare him.  The werewolf kissed his lower back and hip as he worked each new addition inside.  Snape sighed and chewed his bottom lip with every finger.  Lupin then lubricated his erection and guided himself slowly in, as Snape draped his leg over the back of the werewolf's thighs.

"Talk to me now, Remus," he said.

"I love it when you call me by my first name," the werewolf replied, almost moaning the words, as he reached around and grasped Snape's erection, stroking in time with the motion of his hips.

"I know you do," Snape purred.  "That's why I save it for special occasions.  But why am I the one talking?"

"Mmmm ... Sorry, Severus ... You should know I love the sound of your voice, as well.  It's so deep, and strong, and sensual.  Mmmm ... Listening to you is like ... like sliding over black satin sheets."

"Have you ever done that, Lupin?"

"No, sir.  I can only imagine ... But, if I close my eyes when you're talking to me, I see myself in the middle of a huge bed covered in black satin--soft and warm and comfortable."

"That sounds more like cotton.  Satin is rather cool."

"Oh ... Hmmm ... well, like I said, I can only imagine.  I would have thought satin felt like your hair.  At least, that's how I would want satin to feel ... Mmmm ... I wonder if I could weave sheets from your hair."

Snape fought an urge to laugh as the werewolf again ran his free hand through his hair.  He did not, however, have to fight the inclination very hard.  With the next stroke of the werewolf's hand and hips, Snape was plunged back into earnestness.  With Lupin inside him and stroking him, it was more than serious--it was magical.  And with that husky voice whispering in his ear, this was more satisfying by far than anything Snape had even made come from the end of his wand.

"I adore your hair, Severus.  Mmmm ... I've always preferred black hair, with that blue-black sheen like a raven's wings.  Your hair is so beautiful ... Mmmm ... although not as beautiful as your eyes ... Mmmm ... Every time I look into your eyes, my knees feel weak."

"Most people only find my gaze intimidating, Lupin."

"I do myself, a little.  Not as much as I used to, of course, since I've seen your eyes admiring me more than shooting daggers at me lately.  Mmmm ... But here I am making small talk, when I'm sure you'd prefer to hear something more romantic."

"I don't care what you say, as long as you keep talking."

"Shall I get a book and read you some poetry?"

"Leave now, and I'll kill you."

"I'm only teasing ... Oh God, do you ever feel good!  This is such a special treat when you let me touch you this way.  Mmmm ... I love being inside you, Severus.  I know it's awkward for you--"

"No, Lupin.  The thought of it makes me ... aaahhh ... uncomfortable.  Once you've started, though, it's perfectly wonderful.  I'm simply not used to being passive."

"I see ... Mmmm ... Then I'll have to remember to beg you to let me please you more often..."

Lupin tilted his hips with his next stroke to brush up against Snape's prostate, both entering and exiting, sending him into an uncontrollable shudder.

"Aaaaahhhhh.  Stop that!  I want to savour this for a long time."

"Sorry, Severus.  Just testing the water."

"I'll let you know when I'm getting close."

"I prefer to guess, although with your heart pounding like that, it would be hard to miss ... I'm hardly a chatterbox, though.  I feel I'm running out of things to say."

"I never said you couldn't repeat yourself."

"Oh, in that case ... Mmmm ... You feel so good, Severus.  So warm and soft.  Mmmm ... I love to be inside you, feel your warmth all around me, and smell you, and kiss your shoulders and back, and hear your heartbeat ... Mmmm ... I think I've just figured out why you prefer to do this the other way around ... I know you like to look at me while you make love to me ... but I have to tell you, Severus:  I like looking at you just as much.  And I know you won't believe that, but it is the truth.  Mmmm ... I know you think you're unattractive, Severus, but I don't.  I like your stern face--especially when I make you smile ... Mmmm ... There is not a single thing about you I find unattractive ... I ... think ... you ... are ... beautiful ... Severus..."

When Lupin started the last part of his verbal assault, he'd gradually changed his angle, easing into Snape's prostate this time.  The change was so subtle, Snape didn't notice until his release was almost upon him.  And he never would have thought he could have an orgasm while crying, but the werewolf's sweet words certainly made a few tears trickle from his eyes.  He hadn't cried since he was a child.  Lupin had surprised him yet again.

"Did you mean that, Lupin?" he asked, when the werewolf had finished cleaning his hand.

"I meant everything I said," Lupin replied.  "Well, except the poetry bit."

Snape wiped his eyes, and the werewolf kissed his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Severus.  I didn't mean to make you cry ... You don't believe you're beautiful, do you?"

Since his throat was almost too tight to speak, Snape shook his head, as the last thing he wanted to do was produce an awkward squeak.

"You never see yourself the way I see you, Severus," Lupin continued, nuzzling his neck.  "When you look in the mirror, you see something you don't care for, and you scowl.  But when you look at me, you see something you like, and you look completely different.  The next time you look in the mirror, I want you to close your eyes and picture me.  Then open your eyes, and--just for an instant--you may catch a glimpse of the Severus Snape I see every day.  I daresay you'll be surprised at how different you look to me."

Unfortunately, life was not all spankings and roses.  After the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, the werewolf was more than a little miffed about Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint's attempt to scare Potter.  Snape hadn't attended that game, but he and Lupin certainly had words afterward.  And Snape was livid when he discovered the werewolf had been teaching Potter to summon a Patronus.

"Why on earth would you teach him something so advanced?" Snape asked.

"I would have thought that would be obvious," Lupin replied, shrugging and offering Snape his palms.  "So he wouldn't fall off his broom again, as he did in the match against Hufflepuff."

"Don't you realise," Snape bellowed, "with a Patronus to aid him, Potter can get past the dementors and out there where Black is lurking?"

"Harry wouldn't do that," Lupin said, shaking his head.  "He knows Sirius is after him.  He's not stupid, Severus!"

"That is debatable, Lupin," Snape hissed through gritted teeth.  "But Potter is known for sneaking around and taking foolish risks."

"I'm sure Harry understands the gravity of the situation all too well," the werewolf replied quietly, rubbing his eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"Severus, he hears his parents being murdered every time a dementor approaches him!  And, if that weren't quite enough, he has a nice reminder of what kind of man Sirius Black is every time he looks in the mirror!"

And that was effectively the end of that argument.

Snape had known almost immediately that the Dark Lord was intent on capturing the Potters.  In fact, he had been the spy who informed the headmaster.  And he was glad to pass on that bit of information, if for no other reason than an attempt to repay his life-debt to James Potter.  Dumbledore had immediately suggested the Potters go into hiding, using the Fidelis Charm.  Unfortunately, the plan failed miserably, as the Potters had wanted Black for their Secret-Keeper.

Snape had more than enough reason to suspect Black wasn't trustworthy, even then.  When he'd suggested that Dumbledore might want to volunteer to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper instead, surprisingly the headmaster had agreed.  Snape had thought his loathing for Black would colour Dumbledore's opinion, and he would have summarily dismissed Snape's suggestion.  For once, however, the old man had appeared to see reason.  He'd made that offer to the Potters as quickly as an owl could carry the message.  But the Potters had declined, insisting on using Black--to their ruin.

After their deaths, it had become common knowledge that Black had been in league with the Dark Lord.  So, even if Potter didn't know Black specifically betrayed his parents, his scar was a tangible reminder of the kind of atrocities of which Black was capable.  Not that Snape had as much as an inch of space to complain about that.  He had done just as many ghastly things in the Dark Lord's name before he returned to the headmaster's fold.

And then Black broke into the castle again.  And again the castle was searched.  But this time, Snape knew better than to blame the werewolf.  Lupin couldn't have been helping Black.  He'd been working diligently every day, and Snape had been with him every night.  Besides that, the Potions master knew his other least favourite student, Neville Longbottom, was to blame.  For some unfathomable reason, the boy wrote down all the passwords for Gryffindor tower.  Then he proceeded to lose them, although Snape understood the reason for that all too well:  Longbottom had never been the most potent ingredient in the cauldron.

The only thing Snape didn't understand was why Black--when he'd entered Gryffindor tower--tried to attack Weasley instead of Potter.  One could hardly mistake the one for the other.  They looked nothing alike.  Surely Azkaban hadn't driven Black that mad.  If he had the presence of mind to get past the dementors and inside the castle, surely he'd be able to tell a redheaded boy from a brunette.  Especially since the brunette looked so much like an old school chum.

Nevertheless, more security measures were enforced.  Flitwick started teaching the entrance doors to recognise Black from photographs.  Trolls were brought in to wander the halls, and two trolls were permanently stationed outside Gryffindor tower.  McGonagall even forbade any Gryffindors to tell Longbottom the passwords.  The boy had to wait outside his common room, hoping someone would have mercy on him and let him inside.  If the situation weren't deadly serious, Snape would have laughed himself silly.  He did, however, make certain he sauntered by the Fat Lady's portrait much more often than was necessary, in the hopes of witnessing Longbottom's suffering.

The Saturday following Black's second invasion was another quiet Hogsmeade weekend.  Snape sat in his office, marking homework.  He'd have a chance to get a great deal of work done, now he'd made certain Potter wasn't up to any mischief.  First he'd paid an abbreviated visit to Lupin in his office.  After having the werewolf talk dirty to him again, he'd run into Potter and Longbottom--a deadly combination--in one of the third floor corridors.

The two boys were hovering by the statue of the old humpbacked, one-eyed witch, but Snape had sent them on their way.  After examining the statue, wondering what they found so interesting about the old hag, Snape set off for the dungeon.  In his office, the Potions master mulled over what Lupin had said before setting himself to the dreadful task of grading.  When he neared the end of a large pile of parchments, three cups of tea later...

"Professor Snape?"

Snape looked up to see an alarmed and mud-besmirched Draco Malfoy staring back at him.

"What is it, Malfoy?  I thought you were in Hogsmeade?"

"I was, sir, but--but--Potter!"

"What about Potter?" Snape asked sharply, standing.

Malfoy's chest heaved and he looked panicked.  Snape got him a glass of water.  Then he gripped the boy's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"Now, sit down and tell me what happened," Snape said, perching on the edge of his desk.

"I was in Hogsmeade with Crabbe and Goyle, when we saw Weasley standing all alone near the Shrieking Shack, so we went to talk to him.  Then, out of nowhere, mud comes flying at the back of my head.  Well, I turned around to see who threw it, when more hit me in the face.  But there wasn't anyone there to throw it.  And then this stick launched itself at Crabbe--"

"Launched itself?"

"Yes, sir, but Crabbe thought Weasley threw it, so he went after him, but he tripped.  And then--and then--there was Potter's disembodied head, floating in midair!"

"Potter's head?" Snape asked quietly, eyebrows threatening to climb into his widow's peak.

The boy nodded.

"Floating in midair?"

Malfoy nodded again.

Snape's brow knitted in confusion.  "Are you sure you're quite well, Malfoy?"

"I'm--fine--sir," Malfoy said, from between clenched teeth.

Snape studied the boy for a moment.  Malfoy didn't look ill, nor did he seem to have had too much butterbeer.  The Shrieking Shack was, of course, supposed to be haunted, but Snape knew for certain the house had never been haunted.  He had seen the source of the howls with his own eyes in his fifth year.  Flying mud and sticks were obviously not the work of ghosts in the area.

The fact that Crabbe had tripped immediately before Potter's head appeared was also telling.  He must have tripped on something.  Assuming the remainder of Potter was present somewhere below his head, Crabbe must have caught his foot on either Potter's body or something he was wearing.  Snape then remembered the headmaster's caveat at the start of term feast about dementors not being fooled by Invisibility Cloaks.

Just what I need--Potter with an Invisibility Cloak, he thought, irritated, rubbing his temple as a vein there began to throb.  He stood, drawing in a long, calming breath and exhaling slowly.

"I'll deal with this, Malfoy."

"But sir--" the boy protested.

"I said I'll deal with Potter.  Now, go clean yourself up."

The Potions master strongly suspected whatever happened must have something to do with the statue of the old one-eyed witch.  Snape therefore went back to the third floor corridor, looking for Potter.  After few minutes' inspection of the statue, he decided his current approach was futile and headed off to speak with Professor McGonagall.  Wheeling about when he heard a noise behind him, he saw Potter crawling out from behind the witch.  He set off at a quick walk, stopping right in front of the boy.

"So," he said curtly.

Potter didn't have anything that resembled an Invisibility Cloak on him.  His manner, however, was exceptionally guilty.  And he was flushed as though he had recently undertaken a great deal of physical exertion--entirely too much activity for a student supposedly studying in Gryffindor Tower.  Snape couldn't help gloating, just a little, especially when the boy tried to hide his muddy hands in his robes.

"Come with me, Potter."  He led the boy down the several flights of stairs and into his dungeon office.  "Sit," he barked, pointing at a chair, and Potter promptly obeyed.  Snape clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace slowly around the office.  "Mr Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter."

The boy didn't respond.

"He tells me he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley--apparently alone."

Potter still didn't say a thing.

"Mr Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head.  How do you think that could have happened?"

"I don't know, Professor," Potter replied, with a shrug.

Snape glared at the boy.  If Potter was trying to feign surprise, he was failing miserably.

"Mr Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition.  Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

"No," he said.  He looked as if he were attempting ignorant curiosity now.  That, too, was transparent.

"It was your head, Potter.  Floating in midair."

He added a flourish, just for affect, but the boy didn't seem to notice.  The wheels were too busy turning in his head.

"Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey," he said at last.

Snape recalled Lupin's words to him in the staffroom the previous October:  Is that the best you can do?

"If he's seeing things like--"

"What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" Snape continued in his most deadly whisper.  "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade.  No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade."

"I know that," the boy replied defiantly, although he was squirming now.  "It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin--"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," Snape growled, bending down and placing his hands on the arms of the boy's chair.  For half a second, his mind went back to the staffroom again, but he shook that thought off.  "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in Gryffindor Tower," the boy protested.  "Like you told--"

"Can anyone confirm that?"  And, as the Potions master suspected, no one could.  Snape straightened, sneering.  "So, everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black.  But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself.  Let the ordinary people worry about his safety!  Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences."

Still the boy didn't speak.  He was infuriatingly calm about it all, even though fear quite plainly shined from his eyes.  But there was still hope to get him to talk, with a little more ... persuasion.  It was time, yet again, to air out the old interrogation skills that had served him so well as a Death Eater--except for the bullwhip, of course.  Snape decided he would have to get a little more personal.  He knew his eyes must have been sparkling.

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter.  He too was exceedingly arrogant.  A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too.  Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers ... The resemblance between you is uncanny."

"My dad didn't strut," the boy blurted out.  "And neither do I."

Good.  I've struck a nerve.

"Your father didn't set much store by rules, either," Snape continued.  "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch cup winners.  His head was so swollen--"

"SHUT UP!"

Potter suddenly jumped from his chair, his face flushed with anger.  It would have been delicious to watch, had Snape not realised what, in fact, the boy had said.

"What did you say to me, Potter?" he hissed.

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" the boy screeched.  "I know the truth, all right?  He saved your life!  Dumbledore told me!  You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for my dad!"

Snape swallowed, certain he had gone pale, as a large lump formed in the pit of his stomach.  Why did the headmaster have to tell the boy that?  But he couldn't have told him everything.  Dumbledore wouldn't sully Potter's image of his father.  And he certainly wouldn't tell the boy about Lupin, especially since the werewolf was now teaching at Hogwarts.

"And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?" the Potions master hissed in a venomous whisper.  "Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"

The boy bit his lip.  Snape was obviously correct:  Dumbledore had told him very little.  That was good.  He was going to enjoy this even more.

"I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said.  "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism?  Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment.  There was nothing brave about what he did.  He was saving his own skin as much as mine.  Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

The boy looked ill.  And Snape felt ill, remembering how close his present lover had come to killing him all those years ago.  Trying to get his mind off that, he suddenly realised, if Potter had been in Hogsmeade, he would have most likely bought something.  Snape grinned wickedly.

"Turn out your pockets, Potter!" he snapped.

The boy stood, his arms frozen to his sides, acting almost as if he hadn't heard.

"Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster!  Pull them out, Potter!"

With deliberate effort, and still with fear in his eyes, the boy produced a bag of Zonko's toys and an old piece of parchment.

And you're trying to convince me you weren't in Hogsmeade, Snape thought as he examined the Zonko's bag.  That might actually work if you didn't have the evidence on your person.

"Ron gave them to me," Potter said, his eyes darting about like mad.  "He--brought them back from Hogsmeade last time--"

Snape arched a brow.  "Indeed?  And you've been carrying them around ever since?  How very touching ... and what is this?"

The Potions master lifted the parchment.  The boy was really squirming now.  This must be a highly valued possession.

"Spare bit of parchment," he said, with another shrug.

Snape examined both sides, still mindful of watching Potter's reaction.  "Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment?  Why don't I just--throw this away?" he asked, gesturing toward the hearth.

"No!" Potter yelped.

"So!" Snape said, inhaling as if smelling his triumph.  "Is this another treasured gift from Mr Weasley?  Or is it--something else?  A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink?  Or--instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the dementors?"

No, Lupin taught him to summon a Patronus.  I doubt he'd need further assistance.

Potter only blinked.  Snape so enjoyed having him over a barrel.  He pulled his wand and spread the parchment on his desk, smoothing the folds.

"Let me see, let me see ... Reveal your secret!"

Snape touched his wand to the parchment, but there was no reaction.  Potter, however, balled his hands into fists.  He tapped the parchment harder.

"Show yourself!"

Still nothing.  Now the boy was breathing deeply.  Losing his patience, this time the Potions master hit the parchment with his wand.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to reveal the information you conceal!"

His blood turned to water as familiar handwriting began to materialise.  After so many cute love notes, Snape suspected the writing was Lupin's from the first few letters alone, which was only confirmed when his nickname from their school years appeared.  Prior to fifth year, Snape had always wondered how the werewolf got the name, although Lupin's friends' nicknames still puzzled him.  When the writing ceased, Lupin's message said:

"Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

The Potions master went cold.  Lupin himself had never actually mocked him in school, although he certainly wasn't above laughing when his friends did.  Since they had begun their affaire, however, the werewolf would always peck his nose or touch it playfully with his finger.  Snape knew his nose wasn't the most fetching in the world, but he was under the impression Lupin rather liked it.

He suddenly remembered he wasn't alone.  Snape turned his gaze back to Potter to gauge the boy's reaction, making certain he hadn't given any of his thoughts away.  Much to his relief, Potter was merely gawping like an idiot.  Perhaps he didn't know what this parchment did after all.  The writing began again, and the next message appeared to be from the boy's dearly departed father:

"Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."

Potter didn't appear to know his father's nickname either, because he reacted no differently to this message than he had to Lupin's.  Then Snape was struck by something else.  The fact that James Potter was most assuredly dead, coupled with the school-age nicknames, in addition to the age of the parchment, must mean they had produced this object while they were still in school.

Then Sirius Black chimed in:

"Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."

The Potions master ground his teeth, feeling all the old hatred flooding back.  The next time he glanced at the boy, his eyes were shut tight.  Potter almost entirely missed Peter Pettigrew's addition:

"Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."

Staring at the writing, Snape clenched his fists until the nails dug painfully into his palms.  Back in those days, Lupin wouldn't even look at him without smirking, and his friends openly pointed and laughed whenever Snape passed.  Did the werewolf give Potter this parchment as some sort of in-joke?  He wasn't about to let this go without an explanation.

"So ... We'll see about this..."  Snape charged toward the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and throwing it in.  "Lupin!  I want a word!"

Potter was still gaping, this time at the fire as Lupin's revolving form appeared.  Had the silly boy never seen Floo powder?  Well, the famous Harry Potter had been raised by Muggles.  That was Dumbledore's idea--to ensure the boy knew nothing of his fame and didn't develop a big head as a result.  Unfortunately, this plan of the headmaster's also failed miserably.  Potter still turned out as arrogant as they come.

When the werewolf stepped from the hearth, the Potions master had to work hard to resist the urge to help brush him off.

"You called, Severus?" Lupin said meekly.

At least he wasn't smiling.  Snape would have probably punched him had he been.  Lupin didn't approve of Snape's bullying his favourite student, and he'd made that clear enough on more than one occasion.  Despite his blind devotion to his friend's son, the werewolf wasn't fool enough to gloat or go on the defensive before he'd thoroughly assessed the situation.  Thankfully, Snape now had evidence Potter had been sneaking into Hogsmeade when there was a convicted murderer after him.  Surely not even Lupin could save him this time.

"I certainly did," Snape snapped, heading toward his desk.  "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets.  He was carrying this."

Snape pointed at the parchment, and Lupin's eyes betrayed a hint of panic before his expression snapped shut.

A little guilt would make a good start.

"Well?" Snape asked.

He would have given a thousand Galleons to know what the werewolf was thinking just then.  How was Lupin going to explain this?  How did Potter obtain this parchment he and his friends had so obviously produced?  Had he given it to the boy?  And why would he and his friends have even made such a thing in the first place?

"Well?" he repeated, losing his patience.  "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic.  This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin.  Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

The werewolf glanced almost imperceptibly at the boy.  That look seemingly said this was no longer his battle and warned Potter not to intrude.

"Full of Dark Magic?" Lupin asked, brows knitted in an attempt at confusion.  "Do you really think so, Severus?  It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it.  Childish, but surely not dangerous?  I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop--"

"Indeed?" Snape asked, clenching his jaw.  "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing?  You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?"

Potter looked genuinely confused now but, although he was an extremely good actor on occasion, Lupin did not.  His face had all the telltale signs of bewilderment, but his eyes spoke the truth.

"You mean, by Mr Wormtail or one of these people?" the werewolf asked, before he turned to the boy.  "Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," Potter said, suspiciously promptly, shaking his head.

Lupin faced the Potions master again, shrugging.  "You see, Severus?  It looks like a Zonko product to me--"

Suddenly, Weasley bounded in the door toward Snape's desk, panting, a hand clasped to his chest.

"I--gave--Harry--that--stuff," he gasped.  "Bought--it ... in Zonko's ... ages--ago..."

"Well!" the werewolf said, clapping and rubbing his hands while he smiled pleasantly at all those assembled.  "That seems to clear that up!  Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?"

Folding the parchment before Snape had a chance to object, Lupin thrust it into a pocket, with the smallest of smirks on his face.  Potter and Weasley probably wouldn't notice the difference, but Snape suddenly wanted to scratch the werewolf's eyes out.

"Harry, Ron, come with me," Lupin continued, guiding the students toward the office door.  "I need a word about my vampire essay--excuse us, Severus--"

Snape stood alone in his office, clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to strangle this man whom, up until now, he had thought he loved.  He fumed for a while, too angry to think, too stunned to act.  When his brain began to function again, he thought about storming up to Lupin's office and demanding an explanation.  But that wouldn't do.  His anger now had little to do with Potter's being seriously out-of-bounds.  Now it was more the old feelings of hurt from school and being humiliated in front of students that bothered him.  This confrontation would have to wait.

When Lupin left the Great Hall after dinner, Snape followed him upstairs and pounded on the werewolf's chamber door with his fist.  Lupin answered smiling cheerfully.

Would a touch of regret really put you out?

"Good--" Lupin began.

Snape brushed into the room, banging the werewolf's shoulder as he passed.

"--evening, Severus," Lupin continued, undeterred, closing the door.

"You lied to me about that parchment--"

"Yes."

"--and made a fool of me in front of Potter--"

"That's true."

"--undermining my authority as a teacher--"

"Right again."

Snape stopped his tirade short.  He never expected the werewolf to freely admit all of this, thought he would try to make excuses.  Damn him!  He was still smiling pleasantly.

"WHY?!?" Snape boomed.

"You were right," Lupin replied, now looking serious and contrite.  "Harry has been sneaking into Hogsmeade.  I've suspected as much myself before today, but he won't go there again."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know Harry."

"LUPIN!!!" Snape shouted, trembling with rage, balling his hand into fists and digging his nails into his palms.

"Yes, Severus?" the werewolf asked calmly.

"Did you give Potter that parchment?"

"Of course not!"

"Then where did he acquire it?"

"I don't know, and frankly I don't want to know."

"But you won't deny that it was your friends' doing."

"What--do you think I'm a fool, Severus?  I'd have to be a fool to lie when I know you could not fail to recognise my handwriting, as well as all our school-age nicknames.  Are you going to turn me in to the Improper Use of Magic Office now?  I haven't had a chance to talk to Arthur Weasley for a while.  It would be nice to catch up."

"That isn't Weasley's department."

"No, but he would be right down the hall.  I'd quite enjoy a chat with an old friend.  And I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind helping me out of any ... trouble ... I happened to get myself into."

Snape's eyes narrowed.  "Is that a threat, Lupin?"

"That's just a statement of fact, Severus," the werewolf replied, with a shrug.

Snape snorted in disdain.  "All you Gryffindors are thick as thieves, aren't you?"

"We have been known to stick together on occasion, yes."

"Is that why you decided unilaterally to let Potter off with a slap on the wrist for sneaking into Hogsmeade?"

Lupin raised a hand.  "I gave Harry more than enough to think about in that regard."

"Thinking is far from being Potter's long suit!" Snape spat.

"And what would you have done, Severus?" the werewolf asked, leaning closer with each word.  "Thumb screws?  The rack?  A spanking?"

Snape glared.

"I didn't think Harry deserved as staunch punishment as you would give him for regrettably stumbling upon one of my childhood mistakes."

"You didn't give Potter that parchment so he'd have something of his father's?"

"No!  Filch confiscated it from Peter in our sixth year, and I had not seen it since, before today."

"You didn't pilfer it from his office when you were looking for a boggart for anti-dementor lessons?"

Lupin looked shocked.  "That would be completely unprofession--"

"As unprofessional as suggesting Longbottom dress me in drag to fight a boggart, you mean?"

"That was merely tit for tat.  You embarrassed Neville in front of my entire class.  I thought I'd return the favour.  Besides, I can't help that you are his greatest fear, although you certainly could."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Lupin rolled his eyes.  "What do you think it means?  You actively try to make people hate and fear you, Severus.  Why?"

"I don't actively try, Lupin," Snape slowly ground out through clenched teeth.  "I simply have a naturally winning personality!  If you are so concerned about my popularity, however, perhaps you should give me lessons in ingratiating myself."

The werewolf's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond for a moment.  He then clasped his hands, raising them to his lips and sighing.

"Let me ask you something, Severus:  Why would I chance being sacked in order to steal a parchment from Filch's office, only to give it to Harry?"

"So you and Potter could have a laugh at my expense, perhaps?"

"Is that what you think of me, Severus?  Do you think I'm still laughing at you behind your back?"

Snape grunted, frowning.

"First, I wouldn't look through Filch's things without his permission.  Second, he was there while I was conducting my search--you can ask him.  Third, I am not in the habit of deriding fellow staff members in front of students."

"Why not?  The impulse might be too much to resist, since Potter looks so much like his father, who also happened to hate me."

"James didn't hate you.  If he'd hated you, he wouldn't have saved your life."

"I NEVER ASKED HIM TO SAVE ME!!!"

Lupin's eyes went wide, his jaw dropped, and he turned pale.  "Did you want me to kill you that night, Severus?" he whispered.

"N-no."

"Lupin?  Lupin, are you here?"  Something moved out of the shadows into the flickering torchlight.  Something huge!  And it was growling.

"Because you know I would have," Lupin continued, whispering urgently, "if James hadn't pulled you out of the tunnel."

An enormous cinnamon-coloured wolf--growling--baring its teeth--blood in its mouth--more on its fur.

"I--I--know."

This monster killed Lupin--but he obviously put up quite a fight!  I didn't get here fast enough.  Oh, Gods, Lupin!  I'm sorry!

"Did you want to die?" Lupin asked, also in a whisper.

"Come on, Snape!  Move!"  Potter was pulling on his robes.  "Damn it, Snape!  He'll kill you!  Come ON!!!"

Snape shook his head vehemently.  "No."

No!  We can't leave Lupin behind!

"I will always be grateful to James for saving your life," the werewolf continued, speaking gently, "because he saved my life that night, as well."

Snape shook his head again, this time to clear his mind and bring himself back from the haze of memory.  "I--I know ... I know you would have been--executed--if I had been killed."

"That's not what I mean, Severus."

"What do you mean, Lupin?"

"I mean this.  Now.  Us."

Snape scoffed.  "You would hardly die if you didn't have me in your life, Lupin."

"No, but I'd be miserable if I didn't have you.  I wouldn't want to live."  The werewolf stepped closer, taking Snape's hand.  Lupin kissed the back and held Snape's hand to his chest, tracing his fingertips lightly over his skin.  "I wish I knew where all your pain comes from.  I would gladly bear it for you if I could."

Snape swallowed hard.  "I know you would," he said, with a sigh.  With a smirk, he added, "And you'd probably enjoy it."

"That's a different kind of pain altogether.  Not the good kind.  But I would still take it all away if I were only able."

"You've made a good start in that direction, Lupin.  However, if you consistently choose Potter over me--"

"Oh Severus, that's not fair!" the werewolf cried, dropping Snape's hand and turning away.  "I am not choosing Harry over you.  Please tell me you aren't seriously jealous of my friendship with a thirteen-year-old boy!"  When Snape didn't answer, Lupin threw his hands in the air, exasperated.  "Really, darling!  I was aware that you have a somewhat low self-image, but even I never dreamed it was quite this abysmal."

"What did you call me?" Snape asked, brow furrowed.

"Didn't I call you 'Severus'?" Lupin asked, scratching his head.

"No, I think you called me 'darling'."

"Oh!"  The werewolf shrugged.  "I suppose I did ... Does that bother you?"

"I don't know ... I mean, no ... I've just never been anyone's darling before."

Lupin smiled.  "Well, you are certainly mine!"

"Do you mean that, Lupin?"

"Of course I mean it, Severus!" the werewolf said, stepping closer and caressing Snape's upper arms.  "You're my lover.  James was like a brother to me, so Harry is like family, but he is no threat to you whatsoever.  Not now ... not ever.  My heart is easily big enough for the two of you."

"Do you--do I have a place in your heart, Lupin?"

"Yes, Severus!  Of course you do!  And you always will!  What do you think I've been doing with you all this time?"

Snape shrugged.  "Having sex."

"If I were only interested in sex, I would never have spent the night.  I enjoy being with you, and I would hope you enjoy being with me."

"I--I do, Lupin.  But--"

"But I embarrassed you in front of Harry and Ron."

"Yes."

"Neither of them really knew what was going on between us, and I daresay they didn't need to!  That was a personal vendetta from the second you called me."

"Well, what do you expect?" Snape bellowed.  "When you and your friends are still mocking me, two of them even from beyond the grave--"

"Oh, Severus ... Is that what this is about?  Are you still angry with me for how I felt about you when I sixteen?"

Snape didn't reply but, apparently, he didn't have to.  Lupin read it all on his face, and the werewolf put a hand to his cheek.

"If it's any consolation, I certainly don't feel that way now ... You must know I've always found you attractive, even then."

"I thought you were infatuated with Black then."

"I was, but why do you think I always stared at you?"

"You always smirked at me," Snape said, raising one eyebrow.

"No, I didn't!" Lupin exclaimed, as both of his eyebrows rose.  "I was attempting to make eyes at you.  That was my 'I would love to eat you alive' look."

Snape was momentarily shocked at the thought of a werewolf using such a phrase, but the expression Lupin presently wore disarmed the pang of fear.

"You also laughed at me," Snape whispered, hanging his head.

Lupin frowned at that.  "Well, my friends didn't particularly care for you, so I laughed when they ridiculed you to cover how attractive I thought you were.  I had my reasons to be overly concerned with what they thought, not that that is any kind of excuse.  I also broke more than one girl's heart for the same reasons, I'm afraid.  Regardless of how I may have acted, however, it never meant I wasn't interested in you.  If I hadn't had such a crush on Sirius, I would have said 'Damn them all!' and hit on you."

Snape shook his head.  "It wouldn't have done any good.  I wasn't ready to admit I was gay back then.  But--how could you possibly like both Black and me?  I can't think of two more different people."

"In most ways, yes, the two of you are very different.  But not physically.  You both have gorgeous black hair and haunting black eyes.  You know I have a weakness for that.  I've always liked my men ... dark."  Lupin wriggled his eyebrows, and Snape sniggered.  "Music to my ears," the werewolf whispered.

"Damn you, Lupin!" Snape said, pushing him away.  "Don't make me laugh!"

"But you need to laugh, Severus--long, hard, and often."

"I don't want to laugh right now.  I'm still angry with you."

"I know you are.  I can smell it ... I'm sorry, Severus.  I ... I thought you might overreact and possibly punish Harry for James' shortcomings."

"I might have," Snape answered, scowling.

"I myself tend to go to the other extreme," the werewolf said, shrugging.  "I won't deny I have lavished undue attention on Harry because he looks so much like James ... But God--I miss him!  I miss James terribly!  He was one of the few friends I ever had."

"So that parchment has nothing to do with Potter's being in Hogsmeade?" Snape asked.

"How could it?" Lupin asked, shrugging again and shaking his head.  "You saw what it does--just insults, that's all.  Only a silly bit of mischief to see if we could do it."

"How Potter got into Hogsmeade is the only thing I cannot figure out."

"He probably used the Patronus Charm to get past the dementors, just as you feared.  Or he might have stumbled across a secret passage.  God knows the castle is full of them."

"Like near the one-eyed witch statue, you mean?"

Lupin's brow knitted again.  "The one in the third floor corridor?"

Snape nodded.  "I was passing through on my way back to the dungeon from your office, and I found Potter and Longbottom lurking there."

"Lurking?" the werewolf asked, smiling.  "You know, Severus, I find it extremely interesting that you always jump to the worst possible conclusions about people."

"That's my defence mechanism, Lupin.  Considering my experience with both Potter and Longbottom, such a leap requires little exertion on my part.  Later, after Malfoy came to see me, Potter was there again.  You said you know this castle inside and out.  Is there a passage there?"

Another shrug.  "Not that I know of.  Maybe he was trying to hide something."

"Something like an Invisibility Cloak?"

"An Invisibility Cloak?  Where would Harry have got one of those?  Those cloaks are terribly rare, not to mention expensive."

"Well, Potter could afford a Nimbus Two-Thousand.  He must have a small fortune."

"Very small," Lupin replied, smiling.  "He couldn't scrape together enough for a second Nimbus Two-Thousand, after the Whomping Willow turned his first into kindling.  He wouldn't be riding one of the school's Shooting Stars to play Quidditch, otherwise."

"Perhaps he spent the rest of his fortune on the cloak."

"What makes you think Harry has an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Just that Malfoy told me he saw Potter's head floating in the air near the Shrieking Shack.  Crabbe tripped before it appeared, so he must have caught his foot in the hem.  And then there was the headmaster's warning--at the start of term feast--that dementors aren't fooled by Invisibility Cloaks.  I'm sure that was for Potter's benefit.  He is the only student I know who is arrogant enough to deliberately tangle with dementors.  And that will only become worse, you know, now he knows how to summon a Patronus."

"I'm sorry, Severus.  I didn't want to risk his falling off his broom again.  I ... I didn't think he'd also use the Patronus Charm to risk his life in other ways."

"He still shouldn't get away with this.  The more license he's issued, the braver he becomes."

"I don't think he'll be feeling very brave at all after today."

"Why?"

"I reminded him of his parents' sacrifice and told him, in my opinion, he wasn't doing their memory justice."

"Guilt might work.  That's the one area of punishment in which I've never excelled.  Especially not with Potter."

"No, I expect not.  He'd have to like you first."  The werewolf shrugged.  "So, what are we going to do now?"

"I'm going to bed," Snape announced, walking toward the door.  When Lupin began to follow him, he turned back, holding up his hand.  "Alone."

"Don't you want to punish me first?" the werewolf asked sweetly, smiling.

Snape cocked one eyebrow.  "I am punishing you.  Goodnight, Lupin."

Snape left as the werewolf gaped behind him.  He knew what Lupin wanted, of course.  He wanted Snape to beat him in an attempt to assuage his anger.  That must have been what Lupin had meant when he'd said Snape's temper might be useful.  Snape knew his temper all too well, as well as his sadistic streak, and so far in his life he'd successfully managed to keep the two from ever overlapping.  Over the years, he had learnt to inflict torture with detached, scientific precision.  Anger had no place in that sphere, as it only lowered the torturer's effectiveness.  Nor did anger have any place in their "diversions."

He had never so far hurt the werewolf when he was angry.  That was a dangerous precedent he was sure he did not want to set.  In addition, his sweet little masochist werewolf had proved often enough pain would hardly be an adequate punishment.  Ignoring Lupin had always worked better, although the interval would be all night this time, instead of merely fifteen minutes.  The punishment must fit the crime, after all.  Tonight, Lupin could mull over what he'd done.  The next night he could beg Snape's forgiveness.  And, if he were convincing enough, he might actually be forgiven.

Well, of course he would be forgiven.  That was not really an issue ... It was Lupin's show of remorse that was important, although Snape now understood why parents said the punishment hurt them as much as it hurt the child.  To spend a night apart from his beloved werewolf would be agony, but it was necessary.  Lupin would not realise how much he'd displeased his Master otherwise.

When Snape went to bed, he immediately curled up into the covers and pulled the pillow from Lupin's side of the bed close, deeply inhaling the werewolf's scent.  As mentally exhausted as their argument had left him, he wasn't the least bit tired physically.  He couldn't believe such a simple thing as Lupin's saying James Potter didn't hate him could have set off such a mental chain reaction.  And he was ashamed he reacted so badly.  From the few times it had happened, Snape knew he hated yelling at Lupin.  The fact that those memories from the full moon twenty years earlier snapped so readily into his head was also disturbing.  Snape sighed, burying his face in Lupin's pillow, drifting off to sleep.

He found himself standing on the castle roof, bathed in the light of the setting sun.  Walking to the edge, he watched from the parapets as Madame Pomfrey led Lupin down the front steps of the castle.

"What are you doing, Snape?  Spying?"

Snape wheeled about to see Sirius Black.  This murderer, this unthinking beast, this servant of the Dark Lord and--worst of all--Lupin's mate.  The sight of him made Snape's blood boil.

"Since when do you care what I do, Black?" he hissed.

"Oh, I'm always interested in what you do, Snape.  I wouldn't trust you any further than I can throw you."

Snape tensed.  Reaching one long, sinewy arm out in front of him, he braced himself between two merlons of the battlements, in case Black decided to lunge.  He then pulled his wand with his other hand, the Killing Curse poised on the tip of his tongue.

"Relax, Snape," Black said with an air of amusement.  "I'm not going to throw you off the roof.  If I wanted to kill you, I think I could arrange something much more elegant than that."

"The lack of trust is mutual, Black, so keep your distance, if you please."

Black raised both hands in a non-violent gesture.  "If I promise to stay back, will you put your wand away?"

Nodding grudgingly, Snape tucked his wand in his belt, within easy reach, as Black leaned casually against the stone.  Snape stepped sideways, away from the crenellation, watching Black like a hawk.

"If you didn't follow me up here to send me plummeting to my death, what do you want?"

Black smiled before answering Snape's question with another.  "Wondering where Remus is going?"

"Actually, I was.  Is he ill?"

"And since when are you concerned about his health?"

"I wouldn't say I'm concerned so much as I am ... understandably curious.  When I see Madame Pomfrey smuggling a fellow student out of the castle under the cover of darkness--"

"God, you're suspicious enough for three people, Snape!"

"Considering the source, Black, I will count that as high praise indeed."

"Better watch your tongue, Snape--"

"Or?" Snape asked, cocking one eyebrow.

"Or I might not tell you where Remus is going," Black replied with a smirk, folding his arms over his chest.  "If you aren't polite.  Would you like to know?"

Snape eyed him suspiciously for a long moment.  "I would," he admitted, finally.

"You know the Whomping Willow?"

"What kind of question is that?  Of course I know the Whomping--"

"A nod would suffice, Snape.  Why don't you pay attention, you idiot, instead of interrupting me?"

Taking a deep breath, Snape fought the urge to punch Black in the very centre of his chiselled face.  Such a blow might send him toppling over the edge of the battlements, and he was sure he himself could contrive several thousand more elegant ways to kill Black--some of them neat and clean, some of them extremely messy, all of them slow and excruciating.  For the moment, he was much too interested in what Black had to say to fight.  Exhaling slowly, he attempted a pleasant smile.

"I'm listening."

"There's a tunnel under the Willow."

"Are you mad--?"

"Is it physically impossible for you to shut up a minute, Snape?  There's a big knot on the trunk.  If you push that knot with a stick, it makes the branches stop, and you can get inside the tunnel.  Remus is at the end of the tunnel."

"Why are you telling me this?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Well..."  Black shrugged.  "That's Remus' doing, actually ... He said I should be nicer to you.  The poor sod apparently has a soft spot for ugly Slytherins."

Snape glared, trembling, balling his hands into fists, and clenching his jaw until it ached.

"Oh--sorry, Snape.  I promised Remus I'd work on being nicer to you, but I can't change overnight.  Have fun talking to Moony!  I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you."

With a wave that approximated conviviality, Black had turned and walked away, as Snape's instincts sent alarm bells ringing in every fibre of his being.  But something else deep inside him, something just as strong as his defences--something he did not understand at all--leapt for joy.  Black had actually, voluntarily, stepped aside to let him talk to Lupin.  And, furthermore, it had been at Lupin's request.  He wondered what this could possibly mean.

Even though he was suspicious, Snape wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.  After Black left, he had set off for his dormitory to get his green cloak.  Green was far better than black for stealth at night, and especially on a full moon.  The corridors had been relatively deserted.  He'd made the Entrance Hall without eliciting so much as a sidelong glance.  Outside, he'd stuck to the shadows as much as possible and finally came upon the Whomping Willow.

He found a long stick and the knot at the base of the trunk with ease.  The branches froze, just as Black had said they would.  That was promising.  Perhaps Black had had a real change of heart after all.  Even if Lupin had initiated it, kindness was still kindness.  Snape crawled inside the tunnel just in time.  The branches began to swing again, nearly taking his head off.  Torches flickered to life as he stepped tentatively down the tunnel.

"Lupin?" he called, cupping his hands to his mouth.  "Lupin, are you here?"

Just as his eyes began to adjust to the dim light, he saw movement at the other end of the tunnel.  Snape gasped as something stepped out of the shadows and into the torchlight.  It was huge!  A cinnamon-coloured wolf.  And it growled, open-mouthed, baring its teeth.  Blood and gore dripped from its jaws, and more blood ran from patches on its pelt where the fur was missing.  Snape couldn't move, couldn't breath.  He could only tremble.  He'd wanted to talk to Lupin, but he was too late.

This monster killed Lupin--but he obviously put up quite a fight!  I didn't get here fast enough.  Oh, Gods, Lupin!  I'm sorry!

The beast was slowly advancing when Potter appeared, pulling Snape backward by the neck of his robes.

"Come on, Snape!  Move!" Potter yelled, as Snape choked on the pressure around his neck.  "Damn it, Snape!  He'll kill you!  Come ON!!!"

No!  We can't leave Lupin behind!

Snape couldn't get the words out.  He could only stare in wide-eyed horror as Potter pulled him backward and out of the tunnel.  And the beast, excited by the prospect of two more victims, broke into a run.  Its head burst from the hole just as the Whomping Willow snapped back to life.  One branch came down on its head, knocking the wolf back inside the tunnel with a high-pitched yelp of pain.

"Are you all right, Snape?" Potter asked, straightening his glasses and wiping sweat from his pale face.  His chest heaved.

"Did--that--thing--kill--Lupin?" Snape asked, pointing toward the tunnel with a shaking hand.  "It--had ... blood ... all--over--it..."

"No, Snape," Potter answered.  "Remus is alive and well."

"How can he be?  If he's down there with that monster..."

Potter looked away quickly, and Snape saw the moon reflected in his glasses.  The full moon.  He inhaled sharply as comprehension dawned, and his eyes went wide again.

"Oh, bugger!" Potter said.

"That--that--thing--is--Lupin!  He's--a--werewolf!"

"Snape--"

"And Black knew that!  He was trying to get me KILLED!  No doubt you and Lupin were in on this as well!"

Potter slapped him.  "SHUT UP!!!  Do you want the whole damn school to hear you?"

"Yes, I do!  They should know what Lupin is!  I have to tell the headmaster!"

"Dumbledore knows, Snape."

"WHAT?!?  He let a werewolf enrol at Hogwarts?  Is he mad?"

"Come on, Snape," Potter said, standing and offering his hand.  "Let's go talk to the headmaster."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Snape spat, recoiling out of Potter's reach.  "You and your friends are trying to kill me!"

"Snape, you're going to go talk to Dumbledore eventually anyhow," Potter replied wearily.  "Let's just save some time and go together."

The next thing Snape knew, he was sitting outside the headmaster's office as Potter explained his side of the story inside.  Sirius Black was also there, waiting to speak to the headmaster.  He was smirking before he went inside Dumbledore's office, but he certainly wasn't when he came out.  Then it was Snape's turn.  He heard the headmaster calling as McGonagall ushered him inside.

"Severus, come in and sit down.  Thank you, Minerva."

McGonagall left, closing the door softly behind her.  Snape turned to walk toward the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, but there was already someone seated there:  his sixteen-year-old self.  The Potions master stayed where he was, leaning against the door, as the headmaster cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Severus, I know you've had quite a fright tonight, and I'm very sorry."

Young Snape nodded.

"Are you all right?"

Shrugging, the sixteen-year-old stared at his lap.

"You will make my job here a great deal easier once you start talking."

"Black tried to kill me!"

"I am aware of that, Severus, and I am very sorry!  Did Remus bite you?"

Young Snape shook his head.  "Potter got me out just in time."

Dumbledore sighed in relief.  "Now, Severus--what I am about to say is important, so I want you to listen very carefully.  Absolutely no one must know what happened tonight."

"Sir?" young Snape asked, finally looking up at Dumbledore, whose expression was very grave indeed.

"I mean that, Severus.  I must ask that you not tell a soul."

"You're going to cover this up?  You're just going to let them get away with trying to kill me?"

"'Them,' Severus?"

"Black and Potter and Lupin!"

"Only Sirius is to blame here, Severus.  He has taken full responsibility for his actions, and you may rest assured that he will be punished."

"He should be expelled!"

"I cannot expel him over this, Severus.  I wish I could, but I'm afraid that is quite impossible."

"Why are you protecting an attempted murderer?"

"Severus, I am doing this to protect Remus.  If you have any feelings for him whatsoever--"

"I--don't--know--what--you're--talking--about--Headmaster," young Snape replied, blushing furiously and again studying the material in his lap.

"Well, if you have any compassion, then," the headmaster continued.  "I'm asking you to give your word that you will not divulge his secret ... I don't need to tell you how suspicious our kind are of werewolves--"

"With good reason!"

"Severus, calm down.  The last thing Remus would want is to hurt you while he was transformed."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know Remus."

"But Headmaster--Lupin was covered in blood!  He must have attacked someone else tonight--"

Dumbledore raised a quelling hand.  "He did, Severus.  He attacked himself."

"What?" young Snape whispered in disbelief.

"When he's separated from people, he bites and claws himself--out of frustration, I suppose.  It seems to be getting worse as he gets older, the longer he's contained like this.  As long as no one goes into the tunnel on the full moon, however, he is completely safe."

"He didn't act safe."

"If you'd been in the Slytherin dormitory--where you were supposed to be--you would have been in absolutely no danger."

"You're blaming me for this?"

"No, Severus, I'm not," Dumbledore said, slowly and gently.  "I blame Sirius for this--and only Sirius.  I'm sure you know as well as I do that lycanthropes have no knowledge of, and cannot control, what they do when the full moon is up.  Remus means you no harm.  Surely you must see this is the truth?"  When the sixteen-year-old didn't respond, Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk with another sigh.  "Let me ask you this, Severus:  if Remus had hurt you tonight, what would happen to him?"

After a long pause, young Snape whispered, "He'd be executed."

"Do you think he'd want that?"

Young Snape shrugged.

"Severus, please allow your considerable intellect and your predisposition to logic to override your hate and fear, just this once..."

Swallowing, the sixteen-year-old nodded.

"Has Remus ever shown you enough animosity that you would think he'd be willing to risk dying in order to hurt you?"

"No," young Snape admitted grudgingly.  "But Black certainly has!"

"We aren't talking about Sirius now, Severus.  We're talking about Remus.  Please stay with me."

The Potions master smirked, folding his arms over his chest.  The headmaster certainly could be a cheeky old man on occasion.  Snape then wondered if it was just his imagination, or had Dumbledore's eyes suddenly darted in his direction?

"May I have your word that you will not tell anyone what happened tonight?" Dumbledore continued, looking toward the sixteen-year-old seated before him.  "That you will not divulge Remus' secret?"

"Yes, sir ... May I ask what will happen to Black?"

The headmaster's expression hardened.  "He may never see the light of day until he leaves Hogwarts, for all the detentions he'll be getting."

"Detentions?  Is that all?  Attempted murder isn't such a large crime any more, then?  Or is it only unpopular Slytherins whose lives are worth nothing?"

"Your safety is as important to me as that of any of my other students."

Young Snape snorted in disdain.

"And what would you suggest, Severus?"

"A nice Cruciatus Curse?"

Dumbledore's eyes turned steely.  Snape had thought he would receive a thorough scolding for that remark, but the headmaster surprised him.

"Believe me, if that curse weren't illegal, I would seriously consider it!"

Young Snape's eyes went wide, and Dumbledore smirked at his shock, as did older Snape.  The headmaster's expression then faded back into concern.

"Are you going to be all right, Severus?"

"I'm fine, Headmaster.  I told you, Potter pulled me out--"

"No, Severus, that isn't what I mean."  Dumbledore lowered his gaze to regard the sixteen-year-old over the top of his half-moon shaped spectacles.  "Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," young Snape said, rising.

"If you find you aren't--if you want to talk about this ... or anything else ... my door is always open."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Snape stepped away from the door, allowing his younger self to pass through.  He then wondered why he wasn't compelled to leave as well, but he had barely formed the question in his mind before it was answered.

"Hello, Severus.  Come in, come in!"

The Potions master turned back toward the desk.  The headmaster, who looked older than he had only seconds before, peered at him expectantly.  Snape remembered this day vividly, as well.  This was the day he had finally taken Dumbledore up on his offer of talking, but it had been over eight years later.  Fortunately, when his conscience had got the better of him, Snape indeed found the headmaster's door was still open.

He approached the old man's desk and sat.  Dumbledore showed only a slight amount of shock and disappointment when Snape bared the Dark Mark on his forearm.  The headmaster then folded his hands on the desk in front of him.  He listened intently, and with much concern, as a decade of atrocities came spilling out of Snape's mouth.  When Snape was finished relating his tale, Dumbledore kindly asked if there was anything he could do.

"I'm not here to ask for your help, Headmaster," Snape replied, shaking his head.  "I'm here to offer you mine."

Dumbledore nodded earnestly and, with that nod, Severus Snape became a spy.  The dream scene then gradually transformed from that day to the day Dumbledore hired him.  When the new Potions master and head of Slytherin House rose to shake the headmaster's hand, the old man said Snape needed to go back to the Shrieking Shack.

"Remus is waiting for you," Dumbledore added enigmatically.

Snape shook his head, confused, but he made his way to the Whomping Willow nevertheless.

"Lupin?  Lupin, are you here?"

This time wolf was even larger than he remembered, but Lupin no longer had blood and gore dripping from his jaws or blood running from patches on his pelt where he'd stripped the fur away.  And he wasn't growling.  He was panting, tongue lolling, and wagging his tail.  And Potter didn't appear to separate them this time.

When the wolf broke into a run, Snape didn't panic.  Instead, he went on one knee and held out his arms, welcoming Lupin into his embrace.  The wolf didn't slow his pace, however, knocking Snape flat on his back in his exuberance.

"Damn you, Lupin!"

Ignoring the rebuke, the wolf planted his paws on Snape's chest, licking his face and neck enthusiastically.  Snape chuckled, thinking--even in wolf form--Lupin was apparently not shy when it came to showing his regard.  Reaching up, he entwined his fingers in the wolf's pelt, pulling Lupin down onto his chest.

"I love you, Lupin," he whispered, and the wolf licked him more vigorously, making Snape laugh out loud.  "Stop that!  It tickles!"

The wolf whined but ceased the ministrations of his slavering tongue.  His eyes narrowed as Snape petted him, and he wagged his tail, still panting in what looked to be open-mouthed appreciation.  The wolf's breath was awful, but Snape tried not to shrink back, as he didn't want to wound Lupin's feelings.  He was embarrassed enough about this form as it was.  The wolf turned his head, rubbed a forepaw over one ear, and settled onto Snape's chest with a contented whimper.

"Don't get too comfortable," Snape said.  "This is hardly the best place to spend the night."

Snape scratched Lupin behind the ears and then pushed him off so he could stand.  Together they continued down the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack.  In the upstairs bedroom, Snape stripped and pulled back the rotting covers on the four-poster bed.  The wolf immediately jumped on the bed, turned in a circle three times on the mattress, and lay down.  The Potions master crawled into the bed beside him, snuggling up to Lupin's back.

When the Potions master woke, he was similarly curled up to Lupin's pillow.  It was half-past five.  Snape felt surprisingly rested, despite the early hour, the argument the night before, and the fact that he woke without Lupin beside him.  Not to mention the subject of the dream.  He'd dreamt about that night in his fifth year many times before, but this time, the dream was different in so many ways.  Snape usually woke screaming when Lupin--in wolf from and covered in blood--broke into a run, coming down the tunnel after him.  He'd never made it so far as going to the headmaster's office with Potter and waiting while McGonagall fetched Sirius Black.

That night, Snape remembered his only concern about the full moon had been with regard to how it might affect his ability to sneak around the grounds.  But, as far as he knew, he had no reason to fear Lupin--until Black proved otherwise.  In addition to hating Black even more, he had been furious with himself afterward.  Snape thought he should have immediately recognised Black's comment about finding a more elegant way to kill him for what it was:  a veiled threat.  He had been much too anxious to talk to Lupin, however, and that something he didn't understand that compelled him forward must have been love.

Ever since Christmas Day, Snape had tried to pinpoint the exact moment when he fell in love with Lupin.  He had realised he was in love that day, but he hadn't a clue when it began.  Snape was sure he would have known when he began to develop those sorts of feelings, but he didn't.  And not for lack of trying:  he had analysed every day from the start of their affaire.  He merely hadn't gone back far enough.

And the part of the conversation in which the headmaster indicated he might have feelings for Lupin--he had all but forgotten that.  It would stand to reason there would be details he didn't recall.  Snape had only experienced that part of the night once--when he had actually been in Dumbledore's office.  His subconscious could merely be extrapolating from what he knew of Dumbledore now, although Snape was sure the old man had said that, since he distinctly remembered blushing.  If so, the headmaster knew he was gay even before Snape knew it himself.  Gods, was there anything the man didn't know?

Snape did remember Dumbledore's sigh of relief upon learning Lupin hadn't bitten him.  He certainly didn't remember the old man's cheek, however, when he was making sure Snape was still following him with regard to whether or not Lupin wanted to hurt him.  But he wouldn't have thought the headmaster impertinent then.  He was too in awe.  For the most part, he still was, but not enough to notice when Dumbledore was intentionally acting less than dignified.

The headmaster was widely revered, of course, but he had the reputation of being of being a bit eccentric, if not downright potty, on occasion.  And the old man revelled in it.  Because of that, he could get away with things many other "dignified" wizards could never bring off.  Like admitting a werewolf to Hogwarts.  Or hiring one.  Snape smiled.  He would be hard pressed to admit it to anyone other than Lupin, but he genuinely liked the old man.

Snape also couldn't fault the headmaster for wanting to protect Lupin.  He had a similar urge himself, both then and now.  Because of that, at sixteen he was more than willing to keep Lupin's secret.  From that day forward, however, Snape had become fascinated with lycanthropy, and he'd read all the available information on the subject.  Only one thing in his studies had puzzled him:  No other known lycanthropes attacked themselves, as Dumbledore said Lupin had.

Once he'd read of the Wolfsbane Potion, Snape set himself to the task of learning to prepare it.  At the time, he'd considered this a natural and safe way to deal with his fears.  For some reason, however, none of this knowledge had helped to alleviate his nightmares.  Only when he'd become a Death Eater--and replaced that night with an entirely new set of nightmares--did the events of fifth year fade from his sleep-induced horrors.

When Snape became a spy, if he had previously had any doubts as to the old man's concern for him--because of the night in his fifth year--those were erased that day in Dumbledore's office.  At first the headmaster merely needed him.  That accounted for his second chance.  When the old man vouched for him in front of the Council of Magical Law, however, Snape knew he'd earned the headmaster's trust and respect, as well.  Even if they didn't always agree, that still meant a great deal to him.

After the Dark Lord met his downfall, Dumbledore offered Snape a position teaching at Hogwarts.  Strangely, it was as Potions master, not teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, as he had hoped.  The old man maintained he hired people according to their talents, not according to their preferences.  Unfortunately Snape couldn't argue with that.  He was an excellent potion-brewer.  Dumbledore had got wind of the fact that he had mastered the Wolfsbane Potion.  Fewer than twenty wizards worldwide had accomplished that feat, so Snape was doomed to teach Potions.

Since the former head of Slytherin House, Professor Lestrange, had been marked for Azkaban, Snape also asked if he could take over that duty.  Dumbledore was hesitant at first, as he was worried about Snape's future safety.  Until Snape explained keeping abreast of any possible Death Eater activity would be the best way to ensure his safety, that is.  House loyalties being what they are, he would be in a much better position to hear the whispers as Slytherin's Head of House.  And Dumbledore could but agree.  Besides, Snape had proved he could take care of himself while in the presence of the Dark Lord himself.  He needn't worry about a score of larval Death Eaters.

As Snape walked toward the Whomping Willow for the second time at the end of his dream, the reason for the headmaster's remarks about Lupin waiting for him had eluded him.  In light of the rest of the dream, however, the significance became clearer.  The old man had given him two second chances:  one was a second chance to earn his trust, and the other was another chance with Lupin.  As he sat up in bed, Snape resolved he wasn't about to let either go to waste.

He dressed and slipped quietly out of his room, sliding a short note under Lupin's door as he passed on the way down to the dungeon.  The message said to come to his room that night at nine, but he didn't elaborate as to why.  When he saw the werewolf at breakfast, he raised one eyebrow.  Lupin responded with a brief nod, swallowing before looking away.

Throughout the rest of the day, the few times Snape caught sight of Lupin, the werewolf avoided his eyes.  Lupin was never close enough to smell him--and he seemed to be purposefully avoiding that--so apparently he thought his Master was still angry.  That was a serendipitous benefit Snape hadn't anticipated.  A little worry would do Lupin some good.  At the appointed hour, Snape opened his chamber door at Lupin's knock.  The werewolf appeared more than a little apprehensive, hovering outside in the corridor.

"Come in, Lupin."  Snape sighed and closed the door.  "I'm no longer angry."

"I know that, sir," Lupin said.  "I can smell that much.  But am I forgiven?"

"Not yet.  You may, however, apologise and beg my forgiveness."

The werewolf's eyebrows rose, although whether in surprise or shock, Snape couldn't immediately tell.  "You're serious, aren't you?" Lupin asked, wide-eyed.  The corners of his mouth twitched into a small grin, which he immediately tried to hide.

Surprise, but not shock.  Snape nodded once.

Lupin cleared his throat.  "I--I'm very sorry, sir."

"For what?"

"For lying to you."

"And?"

"For not thinking through all the implications of teaching Harry to summon a Patronus."

"And?"

"For making you feel I was choosing Harry over you."

"And?"

"I ... I don't know.  What else?"

Snape scowled, and Lupin paused, searching his face.

"You--you aren't still upset over the insults, are you?

"I think I have every right to be."

"Oh Severus ... That is only what I might have said to you when I was sixteen ... And mine was the least insulting of all those messages.  Even then I wouldn't actively try to hurt your feelings."

"And pray how do you think saying I have an abnormally large nose would not hurt my feelings?"

"Well, you know what they say about men with large noses."  Lupin went up on the balls on his feet to peck Snape's nose, licked his lips, and smiled.  "Which in your case is quite true," he added, while stealing a glance at Snape's crotch.

Snape sniggered, and then he pushed the werewolf, turning away.  "Damn you, Lupin!  How am I supposed to remain stern when you're making me laugh?"

The werewolf wrapped his arms around Snape's waist, leaning his head against his shoulder.  "You're not.  Hearing you laugh is a rare treat for me, almost as good as letting me make love to you."

"Do you think you can end every argument with your sense of humour?"

"No, I don't.  But I do want this argument to end.  Do I need to apologise for my friends' comments, as well?"

"No, Lupin.  I won't hold you accountable for their actions."

"Looking at that parchment was like fifth year all over again, wasn't it?" Lupin asked, running his hand through Snape's hair, and Snape nodded.  "It wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't told it your name."

"Why not?"

"Well, we imbued it with a little of our personalities.  All four of us knew you, so some of our opinions leaked out.  Of course, our range was a little limited, even though we thought we were very clever.  We were much more impressed with ourselves than our talents warranted, I'm afraid."

"That's all I ever wanted to hear any of you admit," Snape said, turning to embrace the werewolf.

"That's all?" Lupin asked, pulling back.

"Well, maybe I also wanted to hear I wasn't all that bad, or an apology."

"Severus Snape, you aren't all that bad," Lupin replied obediently, placing his hand over his heart.  "And--acting as spokesman on behalf of Mr Padfoot, Mr Prongs, and Mr Wormtail, esquires--Mr Moony would like to say he is heartily sorry."

Snape worked hard to repress a smile.  "Thank you."

"Mr Moony would also like to add," Lupin said, taking a hesitant step closer, "that he doesn't want Harry Potter, a silly piece of parchment, or Hogsmeade weekend to be the end of us."

"Do you mean that, Lupin?"

"Of course I do, Severus!  You are very important to me!"

"Are you ... committed to this relationship?  To me, I mean?"

Lupin frowned slightly.  "I am as committed to you as I can possibly be."

In other words, you are as committed to me as you can be, considering you are already mated to Sirius Black.

Snape scowled as he mentally filled in the blanks, and his gaze automatically fell to his feet.  Unfortunately, since Lupin was shorter, that didn't prevent the werewolf from reading his expression.  And he looked concerned.

"Severus, would you prefer some sort of formal commitment?" Lupin asked, putting a hand to Snape's face.

"What did you have in mind?" Snape asked.

"Well, you know our little game in which you're my Master, and I'm your slave?"

"Yes?"

Lupin smiled.  "It doesn't have to be merely a game."

"What do you mean?"

"I can be your slave for real--all the time."

"I could do that any time with an Imperius Curse."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, if I were you ... But wouldn't you find it more satisfying if I were to willingly submit to being your slave?  And it also would be legal that way."

"All human slavery is illegal, Lupin."

"I'm not technically human, Severus, but involuntary servitude is illegal for humans.  What I'm talking about is completely voluntary.  Since I'm the one suggesting this, isn't it obvious I would be entering into this arrangement of my own free will?  I would, however, give up every right I have once I accept your collar--"

"My collar?" Snape asked incredulously, his eyebrows rising.

Lupin smiled shyly and nodded.  "They call it collaring.  Well, there are a lot of names, actually--Internal Enslavement, a full time Master/slave relationship, or M/s for short--but collaring is by far my favourite."

"Are you quite certain that wouldn't offend you, Lupin?" Snape asked dubiously.

"Do I look offended?" Lupin asked, through an exceedingly wide grin.  His shoulders were now shaking slightly with repressed laughter.

"No, offended is likely not the blazon I'd choose for that expression.  But I have no wish to humiliate you."

"I know that, Severus.  And you haven't--except for that one time when I specifically asked you to."

"A collared werewolf?" Snape wondered aloud, shaking his head.  "All this saying 'sir' and kneeling and such doesn't humble you?"

"Humble, yes.  Humiliate, no."

"And you'd want to do that on a regular basis?  In your room as well as mine?"

Lupin took Snape's hand, kissing the palm.  He then lowered his gaze, smiling and holding Snape's hand to his cheek.  "If that would please my Master," he whispered.

Snape gaped at his little werewolf.  He felt as though he were going to melt.  Raising Lupin's chin, he kissed him.  Taking Lupin's hand, he walked toward one of the armchairs by the hearth, where he sat, patting his lap.

"Are you sure that chair will hold us both?" the werewolf asked.

"Lupin, if you are doubting your Master's judgement already, you are shaping up to be a poor slave indeed."

"Sorry, sir," the werewolf replied, crawling into Snape's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.  "I'm not too heavy?"

"No.  This chair is good, sturdy oak, and I'm a good, sturdy schoolmaster.  You won't break either of us."

The werewolf chuckled against his neck.  "No, I suppose not."

"Now, tell me what this 'collaring' entails," Snape said, brushing some stray wisps of hair back from Lupin's brow.

"Basically, I would become your property to do with as you please."

"That's all?"

"That's much more than how it sounds at first."

"Explain it to me, then."

"Well ... let's see ... Now, on a typical day, I get out of bed, visit the WC, shave, pick out what I want to wear, dress, brush my teeth and hair, go down to breakfast, and then head off to my first class."

Snape nodded.

"If I were your slave, however, things might be drastically different.  First, would I even be in the bed, or would you have me sleep at the foot?  If I were in the bed, I might be bound, so getting out of bed isn't an option until you release me.  If I have to go to the loo, I'd probably have to ask your permission.  I would also only shave if you told me I could.  Or you might prefer to shave me yourself, since I know you quite like that.  Or you might require that I grow a beard."

Snape shook his head, crinkling his nose in distaste.

"You might also choose what I am to wear every day--not that I have much of a selection, mind you.  And if you don't care for my clothes, you might buy me garments that suit your tastes--again, not that I'm asking.  Also, you'd tell me if and when to brush my teeth and hair, when to go down to breakfast, or whether I can eat at all, and whether you would even allow me to teach for the day."

Arching a brow, Snape asked, "So I could conceivably take over all your Dark Arts classes?"

"If you wanted to take on all that extra responsibility, I couldn't very well stop you.  But you'd also have to explain that decision to the headmaster."

"True.  That could prove a bit awkward..."

The werewolf nodded.  "Just a bit."

"And I could command you not to embarrass me with things like orally pleasuring your fork?"

"Yes.  Or you could order me to do things I might find particularly embarrassing."

"Indeed?  Like what?"

"I don't know," Lupin said, with a shrug.  "Very little embarrasses me, actually."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You could also order me to talk dirty to you whenever or wherever you wanted, make me perform fellatio while hiding under your desk, make me give myself to you on my desk without clearing the parchments or covering the kappa first ... any number of things.  The possibilities are endless."

"Interesting," Snape purred before kissing Lupin's forehead.  "I will have to give it some thought ... Why don't you sit on the floor with your head in my lap?"

"Legs going to sleep?" Lupin asked, rising and sitting in front of the chair.

Snape nodded, pulling the werewolf's head onto his knee and caressing his hair.  "So ... you would be my slave permanently?"

"Only for as long as you want to keep me.  If you tire of me, you can release me at any time."

"And you'd have no choice in the matter?"

"Once I accepted your collar, none whatsoever.  In fact, I'd make no choices at all, apart from those you give me permission to make.  I'd have no rights or possessions, either.  Everything I previously owned would become your property."

"You trust me enough to turn over yourself and all your possessions to me?"

"Yes, Severus, I thought you understood that.  I trust you with my very life."

"And you'd have to remain my slave even if you were miserable?"

"I don't think I would be, but yes--even if I were miserable."

"Why don't you think you would be?"

"Because you have been an excellent Master so far, and I can't imagine that would change much.  I have no doubt you care about me and what is best for me.  And I know you'd do anything and everything to make your slave happy.  If I were unhappy, you would require me to tell you why, and I know you'd put things right if you could, or help me accept the situation if you couldn't."

"You mean I could command you to tell me whatever is on your mind?"

"Of course."

"And I could order you to never lie to me again?"

"Absolutely."

"And punish you if you did?"

"I would certainly hope so.  That is the only way I'll learn."

"I must admit, I'm intrigued.  Would you mind if I thought about it some more first?"

"No, I don't mind at all.  The Master's role is the more difficult one.  I wouldn't expect you to enter into such a thing without having thought the matter through fully.  In fact, I've been pondering asking you about this for a while myself, but I wasn't sure you'd want to take on such a great deal of responsibility."

Snape ran his hands through the werewolf's hair in silence for a few more minutes before deciding weighing his options would be better done in solitude.  "I think you should run along to bed now," he said, with a heavy sigh.  "I'll come to your room tomorrow night with my answer."

Lupin looked up, his large brown eyes shining with tears.  "Am I still being punished, sir?"

"No, Lupin," Snape said, smiling warmly and shaking his head.  "I merely want to think on this logically, and sometimes logic escapes me when I'm with you."

"I will take that as a great compliment, sir," the werewolf replied, blushing.

"It was meant as such."

Lupin stood and then bent to peck Snape's lips.  "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Lupin."

The werewolf left Snape's room, closing the door softly behind him.  And Snape sat in the chair, hands folded in his lap, staring into the flames, as he considered the offer.  The power-hungry, dominating part of him wanted to jump at the chance.  The idea of owning anyone was exciting.  The idea of owning Remus Lupin doubly so.

Then there was Snape's insecure side that desired nothing more than assurance of the constancy of Lupin's affections.  That side feared such forced devotion would make ultimately make the werewolf unhappy, which would only intensify his doubts.  He had not yet made Lupin unhappy, however.  Quite the contrary.  The werewolf had said in so many words he'd never been so happy in his entire life.

If he did become unhappy, I could always release him.  I certainly wouldn't want to see him miserable.  If I could only possess him for a little while ... But he isn't mine ... He belongs to Black ... I wonder if it would be possible to change that ... If he were only my slave long enough...

And Snape decided the next night, he would tell Lupin yes.  In the meantime, there were a thousand details he'd need to contemplate with regards to how his slave might best serve him.

For over half the night, Snape pondered which aspects of Lupin's life he would want to control, and which he would, for the present time, leave untouched.  Although the werewolf hadn't said as much, Snape assumed as Lupin's Master he would not only have total control, but he would also bear full responsibility for the werewolf's safety.  Not that this responsibility troubled him in the slightest.  He'd wanted to care for and protect Lupin for many years.  And it was only fitting--since he could produce the Wolfsbane Potion for his little werewolf--that he should be the one in charge of Lupin's safety.

Keeping Lupin's lycanthropy a secret immediately sprang to mind, but that was a vague goal at best.  How to go about that was immensely important.  Fortunately, assigning that little essay about werewolves earlier in the year hadn't done any irreparable harm.  Lupin's lazy third-years apparently had not bothered to even begin the thing until they had their instructor's approval.  And this was the one and only time Snape applauded the indolence of Hogwarts students.

Lupin's Defence classes still would eventually have to learn about lycanthropes, however.  Between the two of them, they might be able to play down his more noticeable symptoms, keeping the discussion primarily on a theoretical level:  how lycanthropy was transmitted, Ministry regulations concerning werewolves as magical creatures, anything but the obvious physical symptoms.

The biggest clue to Lupin's condition was, of course, his attire.  While Dumbledore didn't exactly force money on his staff, Hogwarts teachers earned far more than a pittance.  The fact that Lupin was still wearing old, moth-eaten robes and trousers this late in the school year showed he had some compelling reason to be parsimonious.  Not to mention such frequently mended clothes seemed out of place on him.  Since Lupin was well mannered, poised, and accomplished--clearly a gentleman--his garments would naturally reflect that, unless he had that unfortunate affliction.

Lupin's clothes would have to be replaced as quickly as possible.  His attire had been one of Snape's largest concerns all year, especially in light of Malfoy's repeated sneers whenever the werewolf passed.  In addition to feeling more than a little righteous indignation on his lover's behalf, the Potions master feared the boy might reach some undesirable, although regrettably true, conclusions with that scheming little mind of his.  And Snape obviously wanted his beloved werewolf to look his best.  Lupin was far too beautiful to dress like a pauper.

Snape had wanted to buy Lupin new robes for Christmas, but he knew the werewolf wouldn't accept such an extravagant gift.  As his slave, however, Lupin would have no choice in the matter.  That was the only point that had Snape worried.  Would this perceived charity be enough to keep Lupin from accepting his collar?  He had more than enough reasons for replacing the werewolf's wardrobe--and not even the majority of them were selfish--but Lupin didn't have to know them, unless he refused to be collared as a result.

Lupin's taste in clothes was perfectly acceptable, so he would be allowed to continue his own shopping for the time being.  In fact, Snape had no problem with the werewolf's appearance apart from the worn state his wardrobe.  Even though he liked to wear his own hair long, Lupin's clean-cut look suited him.  A beard was out of the question.  He had never cared for facial hair, and he derived entirely too much pleasure from shaving his little werewolf to give up that practice.

Then there was the question of Lupin's money.  Werewolves were normally without a steady income, so confiscating Lupin's wages might seem particularly insulting.  And, as Snape didn't intend to humiliate his slave, that simply wouldn't do.  Directing Lupin in what to do with his funds was well within his rights, however, and he planned to do just that.  He would open a joint account at the Hogsmeade branch of Gringotts--since the goblins were even more discrete than house elves--and require Lupin to deposit all his earnings, less a small allowance for pocket money.

Since he was moderately well off, Snape also planned to replace the allowance with money from his own account regularly.  The werewolf didn't have to know the money came from Snape's personal funds and not his own.  Just because Lupin would be his slave, he didn't see any reason why he couldn't be spoiled.  And Snape had every intention of spoiling his little werewolf.  Lupin had done without for far too long.  So long, in fact, he didn't seem to think he was worthy of buying anything for himself.  That would definitely have to change.

Any major purchases would, of course, require his Master's consideration and permission.  Small purchases, on the other hand, would be discretionary.  If Lupin were completely destitute, he wouldn't be able to surprise his Master with little gifts.  That also wouldn't do.  The werewolf had proved too thoughtful in the past for Snape to want to cut off this avenue for Lupin to express his affection.  He never wanted to limit any of the small ways in which Lupin showed his regard.

After he'd determined his course of action on the more important details, Snape retired to bed shortly after four o'clock.  Before he drifted off to sleep, he let his mind wander to the more entertaining details of Lupin's slavery.  With these pleasant thoughts running through his head, he fell asleep smiling.

The next day passed torturously slowly.  Whenever Snape saw Lupin, the werewolf looked to him expectantly, as opposed to apprehensively.  The change was a definite improvement over Lupin's expression from the previous day.  The Potions master only shook his head, however, indicating his little werewolf would have to wait until that night to talk.  Shortly after dinner, he entered Lupin's room through the fireplace.  His beloved werewolf was at the hearth in a flash, brushing off his robes.  Snape raised his hands, smiling.

"Wait a moment, Lupin!  You haven't become my slave yet."

"Have you decided you want me then, Severus?" the werewolf asked.

"I have indeed, but there are some things I wish to discuss at the outset so you will still have an opportunity to change your mind."

"I won't change my mi--"

"Lupin, hear me out.  I've considered this matter with all the seriousness it deserves.  I'd hate to think my deliberations last night were for naught.  After you've heard my terms, you may make an informed decision."

"Yes, sir."

Taking the werewolf's hand, Snape walked toward the bed and sat.  Lupin sat as well, putting his arms around his waist and laying his head against his chest.  Snape returned the embrace, with his arms around Lupin's shoulders.

"First, I forgot to tell you this last night:  you are forgiven."

"Thank you, Severus."

"Second, I don't want any repeats of the past two days.  I know you've said you trust me with your life, Lupin.  If you truly do, however, you would trust me enough to tell me the truth.  I don't want you to ever lie to me again."

"Yes, Severus," the werewolf whispered, almost inaudibly.  Then he began to cry.

"Shhhh," Snape said, stroking his back.  "It's all right.  I said you were forgiven."

"I know, but I never apologised for hurting you.  I'm very sorry."

Snape pulled back, and the werewolf's gaze immediately dropped to his lap.

"Lupin, look at me."  When he didn't obey immediately, Snape raised his chin.  "Look at me ... What is our rule?"

"I'm always forgiven once my punishment is completed."

"That's right.  And are you still being punished?"

"No."

"Then what part of 'you are forgiven' do you fail to grasp?"

The werewolf chuckled and buried his face in Snape's chest.  "I just feel terrible, Severus.  I didn't want to hurt you--then or now.  Even in school, I'm sorry for laughing.  And I know it won't matter to you, but I want you to know I wasn't laughing at you then, just at what my friends said about you."

"I see no difference, Lupin."

"No, most likely not.  James and Sirius were very funny, and I laughed, but I always felt terrible afterward.  Once I even told Sirius to be nicer to you.  He was very suspicious as to why--asked me all manner of questions.  He seemed to think I was in league with you to get him and James expelled.  And I don't have to tell you what reward I got for my trouble, come the next full moon."

Snape sighed and shook his head, pulling Lupin into a crushing embrace.

I only thought my punishments were cruel.  Damn him!  How dare he use your kind heart against you!

"Oh Lupin, I didn't know!"

"I know you didn't.  Back then I was desperate for James and Sirius and Peter's friendship.  And your feelings were the unfortunate casualty of my cowardice.  This time, I yet again found myself between a rock and a hard place--afraid of what Sirius might do to Harry and afraid of what you might do to him."

Snape pulled back, shocked.  "I'm offended you would even draw such a parallel between me and Black."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin replied quickly.  "I didn't mean to imply--"

"I know you don't consider me a cold-blooded murderer, but remember, we are on the same side.  Both of us know all too well the danger Black represents.  In fact, I'd venture to say you and I know better than anyone living."

Lupin nodded solemnly.

"You must also remember I am just as interested in Potter's safety as you are.  Not for the same reasons, of course, but mine are every bit as compelling."

The werewolf nodded again, and Snape kissed him gently, caressing his cheek.

"Now that's settled, let's move on to more pleasant things," Snape continued, taking both of the werewolf's hands into his own.  "Although it seems odd to refer to slavery as pleasant."

"Not if it's consensual slavery.  I want to belong to you, Severus.  I really do."

"Very well, Lupin.  Here are my terms for accepting my collar:  You will conduct yourself deferentially toward me at all times, not merely when we are alone.  I think it goes without saying, but I will mention it anyhow ... This includes not embarrassing me in front of students or doubting my judgement when it comes to disciplining students."

"Yes, Severus," Lupin replied, nodding.

"And you will never lie to me again."

"No sir, I won't."

"I choose for the time being not to completely control your Dark Arts curriculum, but I may occasionally consult with you about your lesson plans.  We'll put our heads together when the time comes to cover werewolves, and we'll see if between us we can't give the students a proper grounding without exposing your lycanthropy."

Lupin's jaw dropped.  "Thank you, Severus!"

"No need for thanks, Lupin.  I've managed to successfully keep your secret for two decades.  I see no reason to change that precedent now.  Besides, this is completely selfish on my part."  Snape leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.  "I plan to keep my slave for a very ... long ... time."

Lupin smiled and blushed, his gaze falling to his lap.

"Let me see," Snape continued.  "The only possession you will retain is your wand, since I've no need for a second wand, and it's closer to a part of your body than a possession."

"Well, if it's part of my body, that makes it yours anyhow."

"That's true.  But I'm giving you permission to use it when you need to, as you would use your hands or feet or other body parts.  Does that make sense?"

"Yes, sir."

"Also, we will slowly replace your tattered wardrobe with new clothes and robes using equal amounts of money from both our salaries--"

"Severus--"

"Lupin, I'm telling you my terms," Snape said, holding up his hand.  "If you decide not to accept my collar over something as silly as your clothes, that is, of course, your choice.  But I don't want my slave looking like a ragamuffin."

"Yes, sir," the werewolf replied meekly, but he smiled, blushing again.

"I'll give you an allowance and send you to Diagon Alley, as it is probably best we not be seen shopping together.  For the most part, I don't detest your fashion sense, although I will make you return any articles of clothing I loathe.

"I won't expect you to turn over all of your money to me, but I will require that you save as much as possible.  This is to plan ahead for the unfortunate time when, despite our best efforts, someone may learn you are a werewolf.  Hopefully, with our combined funds, we'll be able to tuck you away somewhere nearby ... I think that about covers all the major points.  As your Master, I suppose I have the right to change any and all rules at a moment's notice."

"Absolutely."

"I will inform you of all my decisions as they arise.  Do I need to get you a real collar?"

Lupin shrugged.  "Only if you want to.  There are some very nice ones with rings and such that you can use to tie me to things, but I certainly don't want you to put yourself out."

"I think about it ... It appears almost everything is settled, then."

"What's left?"

"Only to ask this:  Lupin, will you accept my collar?"

The werewolf smiled.  "Yes, Severus, I will."

"Good," Snape replied, patting his leg.  "We'll start tonight--at midnight."

"Why not immediately?"

"Well, at midnight, it will be Lupercalia.  That is rather fitting, wouldn't you say?"

In addition to being an ancient Roman festival celebrated to ensure fertility for the people, fields, and flocks, Lupercalia was traditionally believed to be the day of the year on which wolves chose their mates.  While Snape knew Lupin had already made that choice a number of years before, this wolf, at least, could choose his Master on that day, if not his mate.  And the werewolf seemed to agree, because he nodded, smiling.

Snape stared deeply into his soon-to-be slave's eyes.  Part of him still couldn't believe all this wasn't just a dream--that Lupin would want him, would want to touch him, hold him, kiss him, and especially belong to him.  He sighed, shaking his head.

"What is it, Severus?" the werewolf asked.

"Ah ... nothing, Lupin," he replied with another sigh.  "Should we kiss?  To seal the bargain, I mean?"

Lupin shrugged.  "I don't know.  I've never done this myself--"

"You haven't?  I thought you said I was the best Master you'd had.  That implies more than one, doesn't it?"

"I've had a few people dominate me, or try to, at least temporarily.  But I've never been collared before, so I don't really know the etiquette.  Other than I belong to you, and I try my best to please you, that is.  I've never wanted this before now--before you, Severus.  I couldn't imagine belonging to someone else."

Just when Snape thought he couldn't fall any deeper in love, leave it to Lupin to say something like that.  In fact, he felt--if he moved at all--he'd be in danger of sliding off the edge of the four-poster and puddling into a quivering pool of formerly Snape-like goo on the floor.  It took him a moment of silence to realise the werewolf had said something else and was waiting for him to respond.

"I ... I'm sorry, Lupin.  What did you say?"

"I said, I certainly wouldn't mind a kiss, though."

Snape smiled, leaning forward slowly, raising his hands to Lupin's face.  Thankfully, he remained firmly planted on the bed and in a more or less solid form.  The werewolf sighed and closed his eyes, sliding his hands up Snape's back, as Snape caressed Lupin's cheeks with his thumbs.  He moved one hand into Lupin's hair, taking a firm hold and pulling him into a kiss, while unbuttoning the werewolf's robes with the other.  Lupin moaned when Snape drew his tongue into his own mouth, sucking it adamantly.  And he growled low in his throat when Snape inserted his hand inside his robes, teasing and pinching the werewolf's nipples.  Lupin was flushed and panting when Snape finally broke the kiss.

"Oh God, sir!" he gasped, his eyes smouldering.  "I want you so much!"

"The feeling is mutual, Lupin," Snape whispered, pulling him close.  "Before I take over, though ... How would you like to spend your remaining hours of freedom?"

"I think we should celebrate, don't you?  Since we've not only have we made a rather binding commitment, but it's also Valentine's Day."

"Oh!  I'd quite forgotten--but that would be the day before Lupercalia, wouldn't it?  This holiday has never meant much to me."

"Nor me," Lupin replied thoughtfully.  "But I have a feeling that is about to change, for both of us."

"I'd like that.  So, how would you like to celebrate?"

"Well, I did have something in mind, but first I have to ask if blood bothers you?"

"No, Lupin.  If you'll recall, I've made you bleed before."

"Oh yes, that part of the evening didn't trouble you, did it?"

"Not at all."

Lupin nodded and pulled a strong box from under the bed, working the combination.  He pulled out a few things, balancing them awkwardly in his arms.  Then he turned the box to show Snape the remainder of the contents:  all manner of whips, floggers, and scourges.  Why the werewolf kept these separate from his other toys was obvious.  If used incorrectly, these would draw blood.  When used properly, they would draw even more.

The last thing Lupin would want would be to infect someone with lycanthropy because of a shared flogger.  The risk was probably low--since the traditional theory of infection involved the werewolf's saliva in the victim's blood, and only during the full moon--but Lupin would doubtfully take any such risks.

While Snape rifled through the box, Lupin moved to the foot of the bed to lay down his burden.  When the werewolf returned, he leaned against one of the bedposts, folding his arms over his chest and smiling warmly.

"What's your pleasure, sir?" he asked, with an air of nonchalance, as though the Potions master were ordering a drink in a pub.

"Have you a favourite?" Snape asked.

Lupin smiled shyly.  "Well, I am dotingly fond of each in its own way, but I'm interested to see which you'd like to try."

Snape's eyes were immediately drawn to the bullwhip.  As a Death Eater, that had been his interrogation tool of choice.  He had been so skilled, in fact, new recruits were brought to him for training.  Snape stood and took a moment to assess the size of the room.  The whip looked as if it would be a full ten feet uncoiled.  If he moved the table from the dining area, he should have enough room...

As Snape looked up, Lupin tossed something into the air, sidestepping him as he again headed toward the foot of the bed.  The object in question was red and black, and it flew toward him in a slight arc.  Snape reflexively caught it against his chest and examined it:  a ball gag.  He hadn't seen one of those in years--not since he'd last done an interrogation.  The gag looked like an old friend, considering the worn black leather straps and the many deep teeth marks in the red rubber ball.

When he heard a metallic snap, Snape turned and saw Lupin had already removed his robes.  Standing in his trousers only, the werewolf was now attaching the second of a set of manacles high up on the bedpost.  Not exactly to the post--one end of each manacle was fastened around its own chain, which was padded with a tea towel.

"So they won't scratch the wood," Lupin said, with a brief glance in Snape's direction, before he even had the chance to form the question on his lips.  The werewolf tossed a ring of keys onto the bed and then put the first manacle on his left wrist, snapping a small padlock to secure it.

"Why keys?" Snape asked.

"Special locks," Lupin replied.  "They're enchanted against the Unlocking Charm."

"What's the point of that?  You wouldn't have your wand anyhow, would you?"

"I don't always need my wand, but it's more fun to know I can't get loose.  You'll have to help me, Severus.  I can only do the one."

"How do you know I'll let you go?" Snape asked, with a wicked grin, as he cradled the remaining manacle in his hands, testing its weight.

"I suppose I'll just have to trust you, won't I?" Lupin replied, batting his eyelashes with a sweet smile.

Snape's eyebrows rose and he smiled as well, before attaching the other manacle to Lupin's right wrist.  He then returned to the box of floggers.  When he picked up the whip, feeling the leather, Lupin's eyes went wide.  This seemed to be the werewolf's favourite among his toys.  Apparently they had something else in common.

"Do you know how to use one of those?" Lupin asked, swallowing, but with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

"I have been considered something of an expert," Snape purred, "although I am a little out of practice."

Lupin smiled.  "Feel free to warm up."

Snape pulled his wand, casting a Silencing Charm on the door.  He then unfurled the whip into thin air with a loud snap.  Lupin gasped in anticipation, wrapping his hands in the excess chain.  As Snape repeatedly cracked the whip, the werewolf writhed in the manacles.

"I think I rather like your idea of a celebration, Lupin," Snape said.

After he felt more confident with this particular whip, Snape turned, making certain his little werewolf could see what he was doing.  With the next flick of the whip--horizontally from waist height--he extinguished a candle flame.  The candle didn't tip or move as much as a hair's breadth, and he didn't spill a single drop of wax.  Lupin staggered, pulling on the chains for support.

"Oh, you are good!" he gasped.

Turning back, Snape answered Lupin's exclamation with a raised eyebrow, a smug grin, and a curt nod.

"I don't think I've ever wanted you more than I do right now, Severus!" Lupin whispered urgently, panting and bucking his hips.

Snape licked his lips and sighed.  "Well, you're going to have to wait a bit," he purred.

"Did you learn that as a Death Eater?" the werewolf asked.  Noticing Snape's sudden shock, Lupin again smiled.  "I was caught once.  Strangely, that lot wondered why they couldn't beat information out of me.  They were rank amateurs, and I managed to escape.  But not before I developed a taste for this particular torture device.  Much more ... elegant ... than a Cruciatus Curse.  Don't you agree?"

"Indeed."

Snape coiled and laid aside the whip before moving the table to give himself a bit more room.  Since he anticipated working up quite a lather, he also removed his robes.  He then noticed the chains attached to the manacles.  They were nearly six feet, which was entirely too long in light of the intensive teasing he had in mind for tonight.

Again retrieving his wand, Snape muttered an impromptu variation on the Shrinking Charm usually employed for owl post.  This had two effects:  one was to halve the chain length, drawing Lupin's arms fully out to his sides; the other was a surprised gasp as the werewolf struggled against his newfound restrictions.  Lupin had only enough slack to turn his hands and grip the chains.

"Sir ... I can barely move."

It wasn't a complaint.  The werewolf's tone indicated he was smiling.  Snape also smiled, approaching Lupin with the ball gag.

"Precisely," he whispered before nibbling Lupin's earlobe.  "Open your mouth."

The werewolf gratefully turned his head, obeying with a dreamy look in his eyes.  Snape popped the ball in his mouth, gruffly turning Lupin's head the other way to buckle the gag.  While fastening the straps, he was not the least bit careful to avoid snagging the werewolf's hair in the buckle.  Wrapping his arms around Lupin, he pressed his skin to the werewolf's back.

"Oh yes, I am going to enjoy this," he whispered, dragging his fingernails down the front of Lupin's chest.

The werewolf exhaled, leaning against him, turning his head to rest it against Snape's cheek.  When Snape bit Lupin's earlobe, the werewolf winced but also whimpered with pleasure.  A disappointed groan erupted from Lupin's throat, however, when Snape went back to the strongbox, ignoring the bullwhip.  Lifting the box, he brought it to the table, so Lupin wouldn't be able to see what he would be getting next.

He removed a blindfold from the box, which he shoved into his trouser pocket for the moment.  Then he selected a handsome scourge.  Each of the foot-long strips of leather had, attached to the end, a slightly curved half-inch strip of sharpened metal.  Snape ran his thumb over the edge of one strip, hissing as the metal cut into his skin.  He then stepped behind Lupin, dragging the scourge lightly up his chest.

"Does my little werewolf want the bullwhip?" he purred.

Lupin nodded with another whimper.

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it?"

The werewolf groaned again as Snape set the scourge on the bed and unfastened Lupin's trousers.  Sliding his fingers between Lupin's underpants and skin, he lowered the remainder of his clothes to the floor, dragging his tongue down Lupin's back and left leg as he descended.  Lupin stepped out of the garments, and Snape nipped each of his buttocks on his way back upright.  While retrieving the scourge from the bed, he bent his head to Lupin's neck, grabbing a fold of skin between his teeth.  He pulled away slowly, stretching the skin until it popped out of his mouth.  Lupin bucked from the pinch that produced.

As Snape slapped the scourge around both sides of the werewolf's chest, Lupin wrapped his hands around the chains, pulling them taut, the muscles in his arms bulging beautifully.  He was still thin enough that the musculature of his arms was well defined.  And Snape was fairly certain his face bore its very own "I would love to eat you alive" expression.  Thankfully the werewolf didn't have Samson's strength, or the bed might have toppled.

Stopping suddenly, Snape walked around the left side of Lupin's four-poster, crawling atop the mattress.  He knelt in front of the werewolf to examine his handiwork.  Lupin had a few dozen small cuts on his chest that were slowly oozing blood.  One of these was on the very edge of the werewolf's right nipple.  Snape remembered he'd once wondered why Lupin hadn't delved into this kind of heavier play.  The werewolf apparently had done so, but he still didn't bear the telltale scars.

"Oh, that's pretty," Snape purred, delicately sliding his fingers around Lupin's bleeding nipple.  "You obviously enjoy this, and you seemed to have been whipped many times before, but there are no other ... lover's marks ... here.  I imagine werewolves heal without scarring?"

Lupin nodded.

"That's convenient.  No one will ever know what a sick, twisted bastard you really are.  Except for me, of course, but I am every bit as bad."

The werewolf whimpered again at the word "bastard."  Apparently Lupin also relished being verbally abused.  That was a pity, for Snape had no intention of indulging in habitual humiliation.  He'd allow the remainder of the wizarding world to pick up the slack in that regard.

Slowly working his hand into Lupin's hair, Snape grabbed a handful to hold his head in place.  He then bent to encircle Lupin's nipple with his lips, sucking off the blood.  The werewolf attempted to throw his head back, moaning and arching toward Snape's slowly circling tongue.

"Do you like that?" he whispered, leaning close to Lupin's ear.The werewolf nodded as well as he could, considering Snape still had a firm hold on his hair.  He pulled Lupin's forehead down onto his shoulder, sliding his hand down to the nape of Lupin's neck.  Then he sent the scourge wrapping around Lupin's back and legs.  The werewolf tensed against him with each blow, crying into the gag, and relaxed again in between.  Warm at first, but rapidly cooling, some of Lupin's saliva dripped from around the ball and dribbled down Snape's shoulder.  He released Lupin's hair and unbuckled the gag, removing it to allow Lupin to breathe freely for a moment.  Setting the gag on the bed, he pulled the blindfold from his pocket and nibbled Lupin's neck before covering the werewolf's eyes.

"Please kiss me, Severus," Lupin whispered.

Snape leaned forward, very close to the werewolf's mouth, almost--but not quite--touching his lips.  His mind had gone back to their first night together--so long ago in his room--many times over the past few months.  While he didn't believe Lupin deserved a formal punishment for his behaviour that night, he decided tonight he would at least give his little werewolf a taste of his own medicine.

"You want me to kiss you, Lupin?" he breathed into his lover's waiting mouth.

"Yes, sir."

"Why should I?"

The werewolf moved forward slowly, following Snape's voice and, presumably, his smell, as Snape slowly backed away, keeping their lips no more than an inch apart.

"I like the way you kiss, sir," Lupin whispered.

"Oh, you do, do you?" Snape asked, almost laughing.

He licked the tip of Lupin's nose before abruptly pulling out of the werewolf's reach.  Lupin moaned in frustration and bit his lip, as Snape grinned wickedly.

"Please kiss me, Severus," Lupin repeated, much more urgently.

"Where?" Snape asked.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Where do you want me to kiss you, Lupin?  Here?"

He bent his head, this time to bite and suck Lupin's left nipple.  The werewolf moaned and again arched into his mouth.  Then Lupin groaned, exasperated.

"No, my mouth," he whispered.

"Oh, you don't like that, then?" Snape asked.  Again picking up the scourge, he grasped Lupin's backside firmly and sent the vicious straps curling around the werewolf's back a few more times.  Lupin yelped and bucked against him with each stroke.  "Should I punish you for lying?"

"I do like it, sir," the werewolf replied, "but I want to kiss you."

Snape licked the perimeter of Lupin's lips, edging away as the werewolf moved forward to meet his mouth.  Again grabbing a handful of Lupin's hair, he planted light, teasing kisses and licks everywhere on Lupin's face, neck, and shoulders.  And Lupin strained against his unrelenting hold to follow his mouth, as his erection twitched against Snape's inner thigh.  That was definitely promising.  He leaned closer, allowing their lips to touch briefly before pulling away or swiping the werewolf's lips occasionally with his tongue.  All the while Snape revelled in listening to Lupin's breathing growing more erratic as he become more frustrated.

Dropping the scourge onto the bed, Snape unwrapped Lupin's left hand from around the chain, tracing agonisingly slow circles around the werewolf's skin with his tongue.  Lupin moaned and pulled the other chain tighter.  Snape took the werewolf's index finger into his mouth, sucking and teasing the tip while lightly caressing and scratching Lupin's left arm.  And the werewolf groaned, his head rolling about on his shoulders.  Kissing and nibbling, Snape slowly trailed up Lupin's arm, and the werewolf's head snapped upright when Snape bit his shoulder.

"Oh, God!  PLEASE kiss me, sir!  PLEASE?!?" Lupin pleaded desperately.

"I think not," Snape purred, reaching for the gag.  He again put the ball in Lupin's mouth and pulled his head down to do up the straps.  After Lupin was gagged, Snape he stretched out on the four-poster.  "Well, not your mouth, anyhow.  Not yet."

Lupin's head dropped abruptly at the sound of his voice.  Snape ran his tongue leisurely around the tip of the werewolf's erection, and Lupin whimpered as he slowly took him into his mouth.  He sucked and nibbled, kneading Lupin's backside and massaging his scrotum harshly, until the werewolf was almost to the point of orgasm.  Lupin groaned, biting deeply into the gag, when Snape pulled away teasingly, stroking his erection slowly and squeezing.

"It's a shame you cannot beg me to come, Lupin," he said, with a smirk.

Another whimper answered this comment.

"Revenge is ever so sweet, my dear little werewolf," Snape whispered, before again sliding his mouth down the length of Lupin's erection.

He brought Lupin just to the brink of orgasm twice more before he stopped.  Rising to his knees, he unbuckled and removed the gag.  Lupin panted, chest heaving, his face flushed a beautiful crimson.  Snape pulled Lupin's head down onto his neck, caressing his sweaty hair.  He then cradled the werewolf's face in his hands, tracing his thumbs over Lupin's cheeks.

"Now, Lupin, would you prefer a kiss or an orgasm at the moment?" he purred.

"Please make me come, sir," Lupin whispered, turning his head to capture Snape's thumb in his mouth.

"Make you?  Have I ever forced you to come, Lupin?"

"No, sir.  Please let me come, then, sir."

"Hmmm.  I haven't yet decided whether I'll allow you to come tonight."

The werewolf bit his lip, whimpering again.

"I think I will kiss you now, however.  Would you like that?"

"Yes, sir.  Please kiss me."

At first Snape teased him again, brushing his lips lightly a few times, then moving away to nestle his face against Lupin's--until the werewolf started begging again, almost like a petulant child.  All that was missing was the stamping of his foot.

"Oh, God, sir!  Please?"

"Please what, Lupin?"

"Please kiss me, Master!"

"But I'm not your Master yet, am I, Lupin?"

"Oh yes you are, sir!  I can't see the clock, and I don't care to.  You are my Master, sir!"

"Good answer, Lupin," Snape purred.  "I think you've earned that kiss now."

He leaned closer, sliding his tongue languidly between the werewolf's parted lips, coaxing Lupin's mouth fully open.  While exploring his mouth, Snape slowly trailed his hands down the werewolf's chest, finally bringing them to rest on Lupin's waist.  As he sucked Lupin's full bottom lip into his mouth, his little werewolf exhaled heated breath onto his face.  Sliding his hands down to Lupin's backside, Snape cupped and kneaded each buttock, pulling him closer.  As he drew Lupin's tongue into his mouth, sucking hard--again tasting blood--the werewolf began to buck his hips, rubbing his erection against Snape's trousers.

"Oh no, Lupin!  None of that!" Snape snapped, moving away quickly.  "I'm not letting you soil my clothes, my dear little werewolf."

Lupin whimpered again, almost bordering on a sob.  "Oh, God, sir!  Please touch me!  Somewhere!  Anywhere!  I don't care, just don't leave me!  PLEASE!!!"

"You are extraordinarily beautiful when you're desperate."

Snape slid off the four-poster as gently as he could, and Lupin didn't seem to notice.  He then slowly crept up behind Lupin's back, slipping his arms around the werewolf's waist.  Lupin leaned against him with a sigh.

"You sounded a little scared just then," Snape whispered.  "Were you?"

"Yes, sir," Lupin admitted.  "Please don't leave me."

"Shhh," Snape said, running a hand through the werewolf's hair.  "I'm right here.  It's all right, Lupin.  I won't leave you.  Ever."

"Thank you, sir.  And thank you for touching me."

"You don't have to thank me for doing something I love, Lupin.  You know I love to touch you, don't you?"

"I had hoped, sir."

"Lupin, too much humility can be worse than too little," Snape purred, caressing the werewolf's chest in long, slow strokes.  "You do know I love to touch you."

"I suppose..."

Snape locked him into place with one arm around his ribs.  Sliding his other hand down the werewolf's chest, he took Lupin's still moist erection into his hand, squeezing and stroking slowly.  Lupin immediately began to buck his hips, thrusting into Snape's hand and moaning.

"Say it, Lupin," Snape whispered, lips directly on the werewolf's ear.

"What, sir?" Lupin asked suddenly.

"Say you know I love to touch you."

"I know you love to touch me, sir."

"Good."  Snape increased his tempo slightly, and now Lupin gasped and groaned.  "Now say it louder."

"I know you love to touch me, sir!"

He sped up again.  "Convince me you really believe it!  Louder!"

"I KNOW YOU LOVE TO TOUCH ME, MASTER!!!"

"Very, very good!" Snape purred.

Again speeding the movements of his hand on Lupin's erection, Snape kissed and bit Lupin's neck and shoulders.  When Lupin's breathing became too ragged, he stopped once again.  And the werewolf whimpered.  Snape raised his hand to Lupin's mouth so he could lick off the salty emission.  Lupin didn't even have to sniff to know what the liquid was, or where it was.  He cleaned Snape's hand admirably, as always, sucking and teasing and making him want to melt.

"I think you've earned a reward, Lupin," Snape said, taking his hand away.

"May I come now, sir?" the werewolf asked.

"No, not that.  Not yet."

"What then, sir?"

"You don't want me to spoil the surprise, do you?"

"Sir--"

Snape cut Lupin off by gagging him again.  He then stepped away to retrieve the bullwhip.  Reaching under Lupin's outstretched arms, he caressed his skin with the coiled leather.  When the werewolf realised what was touching him, he whimpered.  Uncurling the whip, Snape passed the leather around in front of the werewolf's stomach, dragging it up his chest.  When the whip reached his nipples, Lupin shuddered and whimpered again.

Backing away, Snape let the whip fly, catching Lupin squarely between the shoulder blades.  A loud "Unf" issued from the werewolf's throat as blood trickled from the wound.  Lupin moaned softly, again struggling against the manacles, flexing and unflexing his fingers around the chains.  Snape walked forward and wrapped his left arm around Lupin's waist, smiling at the sensation of warmth as the werewolf's blood smeared on his chest.  He kissed Lupin's neck softly.

"I take it you appreciate your reward?" he whispered.

Lupin nodded with enthusiasm.

"Good.  Don't let me ever hear you doubting how much I value you again.  Understood?"

The werewolf nodded again, just as fervently.  Scurrying backward, Snape again let the whip fly, slapping the tip to Lupin's skin with a loud crack.

"Unf."

Crack!

"Unf!"

Crack!

"Unf!"

Crack!

"UNF!"

Crack!

"UNF!!!"

When Snape stopped abruptly, Lupin let out a disappointed groan, again writhing in the manacles.  He was bleeding beautifully, and he seemed to like the rhythm.  Snape did as well, but something was definitely missing from his full enjoyment of the process.  He approached and caressed Lupin's chest.  Kissing the werewolf's temple, he tugged at one of the gag's straps.

"This has to go," he whispered, unbuckling and removing the gag.  "I want to hear you."

The werewolf's head lolled against Snape's cheek, and Snape caressed his hair.  Lupin was panting, and Snape couldn't remember being more aroused in a long, long time.  Even with all their other play, there was just something about a bullwhip.  Not to mention knowing, in just a short while, Lupin would belong to him completely.

"You were right, Lupin.  We are very good for one another."

"Severus--"

Lupin had finally caught his breath, but Snape did hid best to make him lose it again.  Jerking his head backward by his hair, he kissed Lupin hard, mercilessly, leaving the werewolf's mouth hanging open when he backed away.  Again Snape struck with the whip.  Lupin screamed at the top of his lungs--bloodcurdling screeches that echoed off the walls.  And Snape loved it.  Judging from the way he moaned between cracks of the whip, so did Lupin.  To be certain, Snape slipped his hand around the werewolf's waist to make a quick examination of his crotch.  As he suspected, Lupin was hard as a rock, and he immediately began thrusting his erection into the sleeve of his Master's hand.

Snape had planned to give Lupin many more good lashes, but he'd only managed a couple of dozen when he had to stop.  Even though he wasn't anywhere near tired, his desire finally got the better of him.  And his little bleeding werewolf appeared anxious to be ravished.  Just as anxious as Snape was to ravish him.

He thought about releasing Lupin from the manacles first, but something told him his little werewolf would prefer simply being taken, still trussed up like a chicken.  While unscrewing the jar lid, he found his estimation was correct.  Lupin writhed more, groaning and licking his lips.  And Snape chuckled wickedly at this.  For once the eloquent Professor Lupin was completely at a loss for words.  After setting the jar of lubricant on the bed, Snape once again retrieved his wand.

"Finite Incantatum," he muttered, releasing the spell restricting the chain length.

When Lupin's arms dropped, Snape pushed him forward brusquely.  Lupin bent at the waist, dangling from his manacled wrists with his face about a foot above the mattress.  Snape slipped his trousers to the floor, kicking them away before spreading the werewolf's legs with his own.  While he prepared the opening--none too delicately--for entry, he reached around, pumping Lupin's erection roughly.  The werewolf still had no words, only grunting and making guttural moans of pleasure.  When Snape entered him just as roughly, Lupin gasped.

He dug his fingers into Lupin's hip, riding him and stroking him all at once, occasionally letting go of his hip or erection only long enough to worry one of his cuts.  Lupin inhaled sharply each time, but he also pushed back, relishing the pain.  When Snape felt his climax approaching, he leaned over the werewolf's back, grabbing a handful of Lupin's hair and pulling his head toward his mouth.

"I've decided I'm going to let you come tonight after all," he purred, thrusting with all his might.  "Would you like that?"

The werewolf nodded, grunting something that sounded vaguely like an affirmative.  And Snape grinned wickedly yet again.

"Are you ready to come for me, Lupin?"

Nodding again, the werewolf whimpered desperately.

"Come for me now!" Snape commanded.

Lupin exploded, screaming Snape's name--which was the only intelligible word he uttered throughout the whole process--as he climaxed violently.  As he gave himself over to the spasms of Lupin's body, Snape lost control with a series of animalistic grunts.  He clung to his beloved werewolf from behind, gently kissing his neck and shoulders, as every muscle in Lupin's body twitched, making the chains rattle.  After removing the blindfold, Snape unlocked the manacles.  He eased Lupin down on the bed, and then he began to look for something to clean the wounds.

"What are you doing?" Lupin asked, more hoarsely than usual.

"Those cuts will need attention," Snape answered.

"Don't bother."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure.  They'll heal fine on their own, and I've slept on bloodied sheets before.  Just hold me, Severus.  Please?"

"I think that can be arranged," Snape replied, smiling.

Before returning to the bed, Snape got a glass of water as well as the clock from Lupin's desk, both of which he set on the bedside table.  There was still a little over an hour to go before midnight.  He pulled back the covers as far as he could with Lupin's lying on them at the foot of the bed.  Sitting on the bed and leaning forward, he grasped the werewolf firmly under his arms and heaved Lupin to him as he reclined on the pillows.  His little werewolf stretched out on his chest, kissing his skin, which was encrusted with Lupin's blood and gleamed with sweat--both produced from Snape's driving them to wanton madness with a bullwhip.

Lupin clung tightly to him as Snape caressed his sweat-drenched hair in addition to any patches of his skin that weren't damaged.  Unfortunately, there were very few at the moment, mostly on his arms and the sides of his chest.  The smaller wounds from the scourge were already gone, but the whip had cut him deeply.  Those wounds were still bleeding freely.

As his sweat began to dry, Snape started to feel the cold, but he didn't want to pull the covers over them before Lupin's back was completely healed.  He now regretted leaving his wand on the other side of the room.  Even though the fire could use a little magical stoking at the moment, he wasn't about to abandon Lupin to retrieve his wand.  Considering how much his beloved werewolf had just borne for him, a slight chill was a small sacrifice.

Somehow it seemed fitting that someone with such incredible regenerative powers would be interested in pushing his body to the limits.  That did not, however, absolve him from the responsibility of caring for Lupin's emotional state after such a beating.  Although the coddling was as much for his benefit as it was for Lupin's, Snape took his duties very seriously indeed.  He comforted Lupin--kissing his forehead, temple, and cheek--all the while whispering how well he had done, how admirably he took everything Snape gave him, and how very proud he was of his little werewolf.

Once Lupin had caught his breath, Snape offered him the water and helped him drink.  When Lupin had had his fill, Snape replaced the glass and shifted to again inspect the werewolf's back.  The cuts were no longer bleeding, but rather drawing in upon themselves, closing up all on their own.  Snape smiled, pecked Lupin's brow, and began to stroke the werewolf's back gently, still whispering sweet words in Lupin's ear.

After another ten minutes, there were no traces of wounds at all, so Snape gathered and pulled the covers over them both.  Then he glanced at the clock:  three quarters of an hour to go.  Closing his eyes with a sigh, he kissed Lupin's forehead again.  When he opened his eyes, his beloved werewolf had tilted his head back.  Lupin was gazing at him, smiling dreamily.

"Severus, I ... That was wonderful.  Thank you."

"You did very well," Snape replied, also smiling.

"I hope it wasn't too exhausting for you?"

"Not at all.  Not if you enjoy it that much.  It was my pleasure."

Lupin chuckled.  "I'll bet it was.  How long have you been planning that little bit of revenge?"

"For months.  Ever since Halloween.  I'm not keen on begging, Lupin."

"I could tell.  It was like pulling teeth.  In fact, I was wondering if you'd ever ask me for what you wanted, since I was more than willing to grant any request you had."

"I didn't know that at the time.  I thought you were using me."

"Well, I was, actually."

"I'm surprised you'd admit that," Snape said, his eyes growing wide.

"I'm supposed to tell you the truth, aren't I?" Lupin replied.

Snape grinned wickedly.  "Ah, yes.  You are."

"At first, I had planned on using you--and I am ashamed to say that now--since you're the only other gay man on the staff ... But ... well ... you are ... your mere presence is ... overpowering ... I found myself wanting to be with you every minute of every day.  Not only that--I soon found I wanted to be your slave, to belong to you utterly."

Snape felt, once again, as though he were going to melt.  "How long ago was that?"

"The thought first occurred to me on Christmas Day.  When I woke to find you waiting there, wanting to take care of me, I was so touched, Severus!  Apart from my parents, the headmaster, and my friends in school, no one has ever shown that kind of concern for me."

"I've always wanted to take care of you, Lupin," Snape said with a shrug.  "Even in school.  That's why I was so interested in your monthly illnesses."

The werewolf smiled.  "Even so, I wasn't sure you were ready for the kind of responsibility that comes with collaring a slave.  That's why I introduced the idea as a game.  I didn't want to rush you, even if you might enjoy the power.  In fact--as naturally dominant as you are--that first night, I'm surprised you didn't just take what you wanted."

"How?  You were rather in control of the situation."

"More or less, but I assumed--if I'd teased you much longer--you'd grab my head, and fuck my mouth, and make yourself come.  Clearly, I was wrong."

"That would have been too close to rape for my comfort, Lupin.  Besides, your technique is extraordinary.  I didn't want you to stop, but I also wanted you to want to make me come."

"I see ... Did it seriously never occur to you to just ask me to let you come?"

"No.  Snapes don't beg.  That's something my father told me.  'Snapes don't beg, Severus.  We get what we want on our own, or we do without.'  He rarely said anything worth remembering but, for some reason, that stuck in my mind."

"It stuck because you're a Dom.  I could tell you didn't like begging at the time, but you looked absolutely miserable the next day in my office.  And, frankly, that astounded me, since oral sex has always been my forte.  When it occurred to me that it was the begging that put you in such a state, I was pleasantly surprised."

"What do you mean?"

"I was testing you, of course, although not completely consciously."

Snape cocked one eyebrow.  "Did I pass?"

"Full marks," the werewolf replied, smiling broadly.  "Even I hadn't anticipated begging would make you quite so miserable as it did, though.  My first thought was, 'My God, I really picked a winner this time!'  I got rid of Harry as soon as I could so I could talk to you.  Your reaction told me you'd make an excellent Master."

"I'm glad you appreciate my hidden talents."

"Thankfully not so hidden anymore."  Lupin paused for a moment to kiss and caress Snape's chest.  "Why did you wait so long before exacting your revenge?"

"I wanted to have a proper reward at the ready for when you'd humbled yourself to my satisfaction.  The bullwhip seemed to suit that purpose.  Incidentally, that is clearly your favourite among your toys, but you said you had no favourite."

"I said I was fond of each in its own way.  I'm just fonder of the bullwhip than the others, at least when it's used properly.  When it isn't, it's more frustrating than anything else, and then I hate it.  In your hands, however, I think it has the potential to rapidly become my favourite."

"Very well.  I suppose you weren't intentionally lying.  I'll let it pass--this time.  In the future, you would be better served by telling me that sort of thing up front, Lupin."

"Yes, sir.  I'll try to remember."

Surprisingly, even after the rigours of the bullwhip and the incredible reconciliatory sex, neither of them felt the least bit drowsy.  And Snape wasn't sure he'd want to let Lupin sleep through his last hour of freedom.  So they decided to lie in one another's arms and talk until midnight.  In addition to that, the full moon would be here before they knew it, and the werewolf wouldn't feel up to anything amorous for days afterward.

Snape still couldn't believe how far they'd come since October.  Thankfully Lupin had had the courage to ignore all his denials and blustering, listening instead to the affirmatives lurking deep inside his body and heart.  But courage was what distinguished Gryffindors, and Lupin had that trait in abundance.  They owed all this bliss to his courage and sixth sense, which Snape had condemned--at least internally--that day in the staffroom.  If he believed in any gods, he would have asked them to bless his beloved werewolf.  Instead, he sighed distractedly as he lazily stroked his lover's now completely unmarked back.

"Is something bothering you, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Not exactly," Snape replied with another sigh.  "I'm just wondering how you seem to know so much about me."

"Well, we've known one another--at least superficially--for a quarter of a century."

"No, I mean that day in the staffroom.  You read me like a book."

The werewolf shrugged.  "I don't know precisely how I know what I do.  I can't explain it, really.  It's almost as if I have psychic impressions, but I don't believe in that.  I suppose the wolf picks up many things the man misses:  body language, emotions, tone of voice ... very subtle things."

"Are you like that with everyone you meet?"

"No.  I could be, I'm sure, but I'm not that interested in everyone I meet.  I paid closer attention to you because I find you so devilishly attractive."  Again he touched his finger to Snape's nose.

"Why 'devilishly,' Lupin?  Interesting choice of words..."

"It's just an adverb, Severus, like any other," the werewolf replied, shaking his head.  "Don't take it so personally.  I'm not implying you're evil.  I see you as a basically good man, although you are somewhat cynical and misanthropic on occasion."

"And you are, I imagine, my exact opposite?  The optimistic philanthrope?"

"As they say, 'opposites attract.'  Like most clichÈs, I believe that has some basis in truth.  I do care about people, and I try to look on the bright side, but I often fall short.  Just as you often fall short of being the perfect cynical misanthrope."

Snape sniggered and kissed the werewolf's forehead.

"Incidentally, I didn't read you like a book," Lupin continued.  "You held my attention much better than a book because you are much more interesting than most books I've read."

"You don't need to flatter me anymore, Lupin.  You've already succeeded in--"  Winning my heart?  "--getting me into your bed."

The werewolf chuckled as well.  "This is not mere flattery, Severus.  You are an exceedingly interesting study."

"What did you see that day in the staffroom?"

Lupin turned before answering, laying the back of his head on Snape's chest.  Snape slid his hands down Lupin's arms until their hands met.  Lupin interlaced his fingers with Snape's and sighed, pulling Snape's arms around him.

"Well, I already suspected you were a sadist--any Death Eater worth his salt was.  Also that you were gay was obvious, even before then, though you take great pains to hide that.  So much so I wasn't sure you were even conscious of it yourself at that point.  But that day in the staffroom, you wanted to knock my lights out."

"Anyone would have seen--"

"Anyone would have seen that once your hands contracted into fists.  But I saw it the second Dumbledore closed the door on us.  Why do you think I was trying so hard to provoke you?"

"I thought you were trying to provoke me."

"Of course I was!  I wanted you to either fuck me or hit me, and I didn't particularly care which at the time, although I must say having both is far more than I'd hoped for.  And that blood in my mouth was one of the most delicious things I've ever tasted.  Second only to what I tasted in your room later that night."

"What, my brandy?" Snape asked, smiling.

"Severus, was that a joke?" Lupin asked, sounding surprised.  "I'm impressed."

Snape lifted his head to kiss the werewolf's cheek.  "Thank you, Lupin.  I find myself feeling more and more jovial the longer I know you."

"Now I'm flattered.  Well, your reaction was priceless, but I wasn't sure if it was the blood itself that aroused you, or how I sucked it off my finger."

"How you sucked it off your finger, actually.  Blood alone doesn't arouse me."

"Blood doesn't do much for me, either--unless it's mine, of course.  But I'm surprised.  From the way you sucked the blood off my nipple ... Well, you acted as if you liked it quite a bit."

"I like your nipples quite a bit, but that was more for your benefit than mine."

"What do you mean?"

"So you'd know I'm not afraid of your blood."

"Thank you, Severus.  That was very thoughtful.  Not necessary, but thoughtful."

"Why wasn't it necessary?"

"It's only my saliva that's dangerous, and only when I'm in wolf form ... and then it would still have to enter your bloodstream to infect you.  But you probably wouldn't know that, would you?"

"That is the accepted theory.  I'll have you know I'm not completely ignorant about lycanthropy."

"I never thought you were.  You know far too much about the Dark Arts for that to be the case.  But, as long as you aren't planning on kissing a wolf, you're safe."

"Kissing?  I should have thought you'd have to bite me."

"No, if you've brushed your teeth, you're likely to have a cut or two in your mouth, so even kissing can do it.  Since I'll be safely locked in my office, however, that won't happen."

"Well, as much of a deviant as I am, bestiality in not my cup of tea," Snape said, without thinking.  He instantly wanted to call the words back, even before the werewolf stiffened in his arms.  "I'm sorry, Lupin.  I didn't mean it like--"

"No, Severus, it's all right," Lupin replied sadly.  "I know you meant it as a joke."

"I don't consider you an animal, Lupin.  You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do ... It's just that most wizards consider me less than human--"

"I never have.  Even when I tried to make myself hate you--which never worked by the way--I still considered you the most intriguing person I'd ever met.  And I learned everything I could about lycanthropy after I found out."

"Really?"

"Yes.  As far as I was concerned, it was just another aspect of Remus Lupin I hadn't previously investigated--one Black couldn't warn me off or scare me away from.  I started recording your illnesses at the end of fourth year.  I knew there was something wrong, but Black would never let me get close enough to ask you about it.  I would have figured out the dates were all full moons before too much longer, even without his interference ... Do you want me to stop calling you 'my dear little werewolf'?"

Lupin turned his head suddenly.  "No!  Definitely not!"

"You like that?"

"I love it, actually!  It's like ... Well, you know what the headmaster always says about refusing to name your fears only making them more formidable?"

"Yes?"

"I realised I've been doing that, by calling lycanthropy my 'defect.'  It's a difficult enough disease without giving it any more power over me.  But you've always called me a werewolf or a lycanthrope.  And that, in turn, has given me the strength to want to follow your example."

Snape scoffed.  "My example is hardly something to aspire to, Lupin.  After all, most of the time I called you that, it was as a reproach, just like all those other wizards."

"Yes, but not anymore.  When you call me a werewolf now, you make it sound like something one might actually want to be.  Well, almost.  I don't know how, but you've managed to make it sound sexy."

"You are sexy, Lupin.  Especially when you beg."

The werewolf laughed, and he suddenly rolled away, sitting up.  Holding his hands in front of him, he began to pant with his tongue hanging out--begging like a dog.

"Stop that!" Snape said, barely repressing a laugh.  "That's not what I meant."

Smiling, Lupin leaned down to kiss him.  He then looked at the clock before sighing and again settling into Snape's arms.  Snape also turned his head back toward the beside table.  Thirty-three minutes to go.

"I don't understand," Snape said.  "If my joke offended you, why would you do something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lupin replied.  "To make you laugh, perhaps.  I don't mind joking about such things with you, Severus.  You merely caught me off guard, is all."

"I see ... That reminds me:  If I ever do anything that makes you feel as though I'm punishing you for being a werewolf, I want you to tell me instantly."

"Yes sir, I will ... So ... a little puppy love is out of the question?"

Lupin grinned impishly, wriggling his eyebrows.  This time Snape couldn't hold back his laughter.  He laughed until tears streamed from his eyes and his sides positively ached.  Wiping his eyes, he managed to curb his laughter to a broad smile.

"Music to my ears," Lupin whispered.

Snape kissed his brow and cleared his throat sternly.  "Back to the staffroom."

"Oh yes, the staffroom ... Well, there we were:  I, sitting passively on the table, not very threatening at all.  And you, sitting in the chair, your heart pounding, your hands and teeth clenched, with adrenaline coursing through your veins.  You were fully prepared to fight or run, but I wasn't about to attack.  So I couldn't the source of your fear.  Your feelings about me, however, were a distinct possibility.  Before that day, I assumed you hated me, just as you assumed I hated you.  Maybe you thought you hated me then, but--upon closer inspection--you also appeared to be attracted to me."

"How could you tell?"

"Well, there was a distinct odour of pheromones, which only grew stronger as I approached you.  And you started to blush, which I'd never seen before.  It was fairly adorable.  Then I heard blood rush into your groin--"

"I wondered if you could hear that."

Lupin nodded.  "It was a surprise, certainly, but a pleasant one.  I couldn't let it go after that.  I knew I simply had to have you."

"I cannot imagine why."

"Oh, Severus--you really are very attractive!  That hair, those eyes, that voice..."  Lupin put his hand to his chest and sighed.  "Not to mention a dozen other things I couldn't explain if I tried--several traits the wolf likes.  I don't think I even consciously know what all of those are.  But I do know your being a sadist was only icing on the cake."

Snape shuddered.

"You thought being a sadist made you a monster, didn't you?" Lupin asked.

"Yes," Snape admitted, shrugging.

"That's what I thought.  When I saw you rub your Dark Mark that day, it only confirmed that.  And you've tried to put your sadism behind you as well, haven't you?"

Snape nodded.

"Well, I said it then, and I'll say it again:  You aren't a monster, Severus.  Being a sadist only makes you different to most people, like being a masochist makes me different to most people."

Snape shrugged again as Lupin again turned his head to look at the clock.

"Twenty-seven minutes," the werewolf said with a sigh.  "Can't we start now?"

"No, Lupin!"

Snape punctuated his rebuke with a playful swat to Lupin's backside.  The werewolf yelped and bucked against him at the stroke, so Snape threw off the covers and continued the spanking.

"I said midnight!"

Smack!

"And that's--"

Smack!

"--what I meant!"

Smack!

But Snape didn't stop there.  And Lupin yelped and writhed with each slap of Snape's hand against his backside.  His erection stirred again and, before long, both his face and skin were a lovely red.  All too soon, Snape's hands began to hurt.  He thought about sending Lupin to retrieve his shaving strap, but decided against that.

"Attempting to bend the rules already, my dear little werewolf?" Snape purred as he pulled the covers back over them.

"No, sir!" Lupin panted, shaking his head.  "Absolutely not!  I just want to be yours."

"You will be, very soon.  I seriously doubt the world will come to an end during the next--"  Snape broke off to look at the clock.  "--twenty-five minutes, so you are as good as mine already.  Patience, Lupin.  Patience."

Dwelling on his Death Eater days always made Snape feel tainted.  Six months after he'd left Hogwarts, he had already been immersed in Death Eaters up to his eyebrows.  And he was well on his way to becoming a specialist in torture.  Although rape as well as torture took place around him daily, he quickly proved his aptitude lay in torture and the teaching thereof, so he was thankfully exempted from raping prisoners.

All the Death Eaters were arrogant purebloods, disdaining the Muggles, Mud-bloods, and Muggle-lovers they killed.  Initially, he had been no exception.  Because he didn't rape prisoners, however, Snape felt he was superior even to his fellow Death Eaters.  Any ruffian could break a prisoner in that crass manner.  What he did took practice, talent, and precision.  He'd elevated torture from a means of extracting information to an art form.  Those rapists were the Death Eater equivalents of Neville Longbottom--either too obtuse or too lazy to learn the proper way to torture prisoners.

Walden Macnair was the exception.  He had been the one who taught Snape to use a bullwhip, although the student eventually far surpassed the teacher.  Macnair was a pure sadist who enjoyed inflicting pain in any shape or form:  curses, whips, rape, hot pokers, virtually anything he could contrive.  While he wasn't above rape, Macnair preferred to watch Lucius Malfoy "dispose" of prisoners.  That meant, simply, Malfoy would rape the prisoner, and Macnair would slit the captive's throat as Malfoy climaxed.

Snape had only witnessed this little pastime once--quite by accident--but that had been more than enough.  Although he never stooped to Malfoy and Macnair's level, that didn't mean he did not enjoy his work.  He had taken great pride in his ability to torture, misguided as that may have been.  And for the longest time, he'd managed to keep his sadism separate from his libido.  For five years, in fact.

He liked to think that was because of the detached, scientific approach he took to torture.  The truth was more likely because he wasn't the most attractive man in the world.  Snape had escaped Hogwarts as little more than a virgin.  His first few sexual experiences were uneventful with regard to provoking his sadistic tendencies.  Once he'd entered into his first relationship with another man, however--at the "tender" age of twenty-three--things changed.  Rapidly.

When he'd begun to have more than simply physical feelings for his partner, the fantasies started:  fantasies of inflicting pain on a man he cared about.  That was too much.  The relationship didn't last long after that.  Asking his partner if he might be interested in pain never entered his mind.  Instead, Snape did what he did best:  he pushed the man away, out of fear of himself and his feelings.

The very next time he attempted to torture prisoners, he'd become ill.  He suddenly felt like a rapist after all, and his conscience slowly began to eat away at him.  Finally, his guilt precipitated his visit to the headmaster.  After the Dark Lord's downfall, Snape had tried to forget how much he liked dispensing pain.  He refused to travel that path again, for fear that doing so might unleash the blackened Death Eater he had once been.

All of his attempts to repress his sadism were, however, before the werewolf came back into his life.  Only Lupin could have succeeded in making him beg.  Snape knew that now.  No one else would have got as far as undoing his robes against his will without finding himself hexed into oblivion.  And only something as strong as his fear of losing Lupin would motivate him to consider giving in to his sadistic tendencies.  He wanted to do everything he possibly could to make Lupin happy and keep his little werewolf by his side--where he belonged.

"In answer to your question earlier," Snape said, "yes, I learned to use a bullwhip as a Death Eater."

"Oh, I never did let you answer, did I?" Lupin asked.

"I may have even trained those 'rank amateurs' from whom you escaped.  At least in how to use the whip."

Lupin smiled.  "You do wonderful work."

"That's not funny, Lupin.  I tortured people, and I taught others to torture people."

"I'm sorry, Severus.  I was trying to lighten the mood."

"When were you caught?"

"About a year after I left Hogwarts."

"I was probably right down the hall, then.  Who whipped you?"

"Macnair," Lupin replied.  "But he left me with some new recruit--whose name I never found out--while he went to get Malfoy to finish me off.  With a little concentration, I was able to unlock my manacles without my wand.  The recruit apparently didn't know some wizards can do simple charms without wands, because he wasn't guarding me too closely.  I managed to get my wand back, stun him, and get to where I could Disapparate before Macnair and Malfoy arrived."

The protectiveness Snape had felt that morning when Lupin suggested he cut his throat came back in full force.  The possibility of Malfoy's raping Lupin while Macnair cut his throat--even if Lupin would survive--made him ill.  And he was surprised to find himself feeling jealous, as well.  The thought of anyone else touching his beloved werewolf was bad enough.  The thought of Lupin's possibly enjoying it when Macnair beat him made Snape see red.

"Did that arouse you?" he asked, scowling, but with all the calmness he could muster.  "When Macnair whipped you?"

"You smell angry..."  Lupin searched his face intently.  "Do you think I begged Macnair to hurt me as well?"

"The thought had occurred to me," Snape admitted, biting off each word.

"I was far too frightened to enjoy it.  I was much more concerned with trying to escape."  Lupin's face slowly broke into a smile.  "You're jealous!  That's so sweet!"

"Of course I am," Snape replied, attempting to sound dignified in an attempt to hide his relief.  "I wouldn't want to own you if I weren't the jealous type.  I don't want to think about anyone else hurting you.  That's my job."

"Oh, Severus!"

The werewolf smiled again, seductively this time, and leaned closer to kiss him.  Snape took hold of Lupin's upper arms with a grip like a vice, forcing his tongue into Lupin's mouth when he gasped.  His arms would undoubtedly bruise, and Snape reopened the cut in his mouth when he sucked his tongue again.  His little werewolf whimpered into his mouth and squirmed against him, rubbing his crotch against his thigh.  Lupin's breath was ragged when Snape finally drew his lips away and released his arms, and he settled on Snape's chest, panting against his skin.

"Why couldn't Macnair get you to talk?" Snape asked.  "His interrogation skills are more than adequate."

"Well, I didn't really know anything at that point," Lupin said with a shrug.  "Besides, I have a higher pain tolerance than most.  I think it comes with the territory when you're a masochist.  But you don't have any reason to be jealous.  I didn't like it at all.  I only wanted to get away from him."

Scowling, Snape shook his head.  He still felt he was missing something.  "But, if Macnair's beating didn't arouse you..."

The werewolf's eyebrows rose.  "Oh!  Why did I like the idea of a bullwhip?"

Snape nodded.

"Years later, I fantasised about it occasionally--the whip, that is, not Macnair.  When I finally got up the nerve to try one--in a vastly different context--I bought one.  I'd seen a few people using them, and they were flashy.  I also adore the sound.  Most people I've met couldn't use it very well, though.  They kept missing or there were just light, teasing stings.  But you're very good.  You could be a professional."

"Lupin, I was a professional."

"Oh, Severus!" the werewolf gasped.  "I didn't mean it like that.  I'm sorry."

"Don't trouble yourself.  That puts us even with sticking our feet in our mouths."

"I suppose so.  But you came back to our side.  That makes a big difference, you know.  At least to Dumbledore and the Council.  If it didn't, you'd be in Azkaban instead of teaching Potions."

"I know."  Snape sighed again.  "But I still enjoyed it.  Even after I became a spy, part of me still enjoyed it."

"Well, perhaps you enjoyed it for the wrong reasons in the past, but now you can hurt me for the right reason."

"The right reason?"

"Because we both enjoy it.  I can't think of a better reason than that.  Can you?"

"I suppose not."

Although Lupin had certainly proved he liked his sadistic tendencies often enough, Snape had done worse things than torture people.  He had also used the Killing Curse on an almost daily basis.  The headmaster had overlooked that because he needed Snape's help.  The overwhelming majority of the old man's forces were Aurors.  He had only a handful of people in the Inner Circle--none of whom knew who the others were--and Dumbledore needed every last spy he could get.

Nevertheless, even after he became a spy, Snape still killed Aurors.  He would kill an Auror one day only to feed lies to the Dark Lord and pass the old man correct information the next.  Dumbledore knew that was the only way Snape could continue to both stay alive and provide intelligence.  The headmaster therefore accepted that as a necessary evil.  And, when the time came, thankfully somehow Dumbledore had convinced the Council of Magical Law to overlook that, as well.

Of course, Lupin had assumed he had killed people, and he assumed correctly.  But Lupin probably had no concept of the number of lives he'd ended.  And, since Lupin also worked as an Auror, Snape's victims were at least acquaintances.  If his beloved werewolf knew just how many people he had killed, that they were probably his friends, and how much his baser side enjoyed watching brave Aurors snivel and beg for their lives, he would probably never forgive him.  With that weighing heavily on his mind, he looked into Lupin's angelic face.  The werewolf smiled, but Snape sighed yet again.

"What is it, Severus?  You're really starting to worry me."

"It seriously doesn't bother you that I've killed before?"

Lupin shook his head.  "We were at war.  The rules are different during war."

"But I killed Aurors--people you knew and worked with--and I enjoyed that, too."

"Severus, you were a spy.  You had no choice.  You also provided Dumbledore with invaluable information, and I have no doubt you saved more lives than you took.  You weren't out with the other Death Eaters, killing Muggles for fun and shooting the Dark Mark into the air."  The werewolf shrugged.  "Besides, I've probably killed people you once counted as friends, and I'm sure I enjoyed it no less."

Snape's eyes grew wide.  "You did?"

"Of course I did.  Some unevolved, reptilian part of my brain loved killing.  And I mean my human brain, not the wolf's.  The same part of you that's fantasised about cutting someone's throat, I imagine.  We try to be civilised most of the time, and we succeed for the most part.  But those primitive instincts still exist, and we can never completely deny them.

"Perhaps I've given this more thought than most because I've experienced the urge to kill on a regular basis since I was a young child, and I've had to work harder than most to suppress it.  I know we aren't unique.  I've read Muggle diaries of war, and many soldiers experience the same visceral thrill.  But I also know I could kill again if necessary.  That's always a good thing to know about oneself."

Snape scowled.  "That makes us no better than Black."

The werewolf sat up, speaking very quickly.  "I won't be able to give you orders for much longer, so I'm going to take advantage of that fact while I still can.  Listen to me, please, Severus!  You are nothing like Sirius Black!  You didn't deceive all your friends in the most unbelievably calculated way.  You warned James and Lily as soon as you knew they were in danger.  And you didn't kill all those Muggles for no other crime than being too near Peter in the street.  If we'd given you the benefit of the doubt, as we always did for Sirius--"

"The Dark Lord would still be here," Snape interrupted.

"Well, we don't know that," Lupin replied, shrugging and then shaking his head.  "We might have eventually found a way to defeat him.  But regardless, we should have listened to you.  James and Lily should have listened to you.  Dumbledore trusted you but, for some reason, the rest of us were too stupid or arrogant to believe you.  You willingly walked into a den of vipers and put your life on the line on a daily basis for people whose names you would never even know.  And yet we still doubted you.  We all owe you an apology, Severus.  I certainly do!  I'm sorry for ever having doubted you in any way, even for a second."

Snape attempted to swallow the considerable lump in his throat, with little success.  "Thank you, Lupin," he whispered finally.  "That means a great deal to me."

"You are more than welcome, Severus," the werewolf answered, smiling warmly and putting his hand to Snape's cheek.  Then he glanced at the clock.  He again turned on his back, sighing, and laid his head on Snape's chest, pulling his arms around him.  "Only fifteen minutes to go ... By the way, if you ever change your mind, the offer to cut my throat still stands."

"I really don't think I could do that to you, Lupin.  Black, maybe--but not you."

"Please don't joke about that, Severus."

A cold chill washed over Snape.  "You still love him, don't you?"

"Unfortunately part of me always will love him," Lupin said, sighing heavily, "although he certainly broke my heart ... He was the leader of my 'pack' ... I know I don't hate him."

"Even after all he did?" Snape asked, surprised.

"Yes, but it has nothing to do with Sirius or his actions, which were deplorable.  I don't hate anyone.  I won't allow myself to hate anyone.  I can't."  Lupin shrugged.  "Well, maybe Voldemort..."

Snape shuddered again, and the werewolf turned his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Severus," he said quickly.  "I didn't mean to--"

"It's quite all right, Lupin.  I just haven't heard anyone say the name ... for a long time."

Lupin then relaxed, again leaning his head against Snape's chest.  And Snape kissed his greying hair.  Turning his own arm slightly, the werewolf exposed the faint Dark Mark on the underside of the Potions master's forearm.

"You know that probably won't be permanent," Lupin said, nodding toward the mark.  "Once we've vanquished him for good and all, it should disappear."

Snape sighed.  "I certainly hope so."

"And you will be as pure as the first snow."

"The first snow is always a little polluted, Lupin," Snape said.

"I know," Lupin replied, and Snape could hear the smile in his voice.  "I wouldn't want a vestal virgin.  Boring!"

Snape sniggered.  Gods, I really do love you, Lupin.

He wanted to caress every inch of the werewolf's body, but he also didn't want to release his hands.  He wanted to pull Lupin so tightly to him that he couldn't breathe, wanted to be so close to him that he wanted to practically crawl inside his chest.  When he'd said earlier he loved to touch him, somehow the words seemed woefully inadequate to describe the longings inside him.  No one had ever affected him like this.  And if Lupin felt even half of what he felt, he had to be lovesick, as well.

The werewolf still appeared to be studying the Dark Mark on his arm.  When Lupin attempted to raise it to his lips, Snape sat upright, pulling his arm away.

"Don't do that!" he snapped.

"Why not?" Lupin asked, surprised.

"It's a mark of shame.  I don't want you to kiss it."

"But I want to kiss it.  Severus, don't you see?  I accept you just as you are, with your dark past and all your faults.  This mark," he said, tracing his finger lightly over the skull and the snake emerging from the mouth, "is as much a part of you as your hair or your teeth or anything else.  You wouldn't be who you are without it.  I love this mark.  I love it because it's part of you, and I love every part of you."

With his mouth hanging open, Snape finally let Lupin raise his arm to his lips.  The werewolf's never took his eyes off Snape's as he kissed the Dark Mark and held it to his cheek.  As he gathered a handful of Lupin's hair, Snape stared into the werewolf's large, brown eyes--like pools of liquid chocolate--and saw nothing but sincerity.  But for some reason he still felt queasy.

Should I tell him now?  "I love you, Lupin."  No, that's not right.  "I love you, Remus."  Oh, just say, "I love you."  That would be enough, wouldn't it?  He'll understand.  It hardly matters what you call him, as long as you say the words...

But his mouth wouldn't work and his throat was too tight to speak.  Tears stung his eyes.  He tried to blink them away, but they grew larger and larger, spilling down his cheeks.  Instead of telling Lupin anything he felt, he simply cried.  And his little werewolf laid him gently back on the bed, holding him close, stroking his hair, and kissing his tears away.  All the while, Lupin whispered, "It's all right, Severus.  It's all right."

But Snape knew it was all right.  In fact, it had never been better.

Don't you see?  These are tears of joy!

Eventually, the tears stopped, but the werewolf didn't cease his sweet caresses.  Not until the clock began to chime at midnight.  Their eyes locked at the sound, and they both held their breath until the echo of the twelfth chime died away.

Snape inhaled deeply, staring intently into his slave's eyes, and whispered, "You.  Are.  Mine."

The werewolf shivered, drawing in a ragged breath, his eyes full of passion.  "I'll do my best to make you not regret your decision, sir."