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: Wicked Game III: Never Dreamed I'd Love Somebody Like You
By: JayKay
Email: eyre68@yahoo.com
Series: This is part three of the Wicked Game story arc.
Rated: NC-17
Category: Drama/Angst, Romance, First Time
Summary: Snape finally returns home to Lupin, but there are a few loose ends they have to tie up before they can enjoy their reunion.
Spoilers: PoA, GoF
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters and concepts are copyrighted by JKR and Warner Brothers; this is for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.
Notes: This is set during the summer after GoF.

*~*~*

The oval full-length mirror looked as if it had been nestled in that particular corner of the bedroom for years, but in truth, it had only been there a matter of weeks; still, its dark wood frame and simple ornamentation fit well with the rest of the furniture in the room, which was a hodge-podge of antiques. Remus didn't know where Sev had gotten the furniture -- whether he bought it, or each piece was a family heirloom -- but one thing was obvious: he hadn't given a toss about style, merely functionality. Sev had only what he needed and nothing more; Remus had been gradually changing that.

The mirror had been first. He'd wandered into the antique shop in Whetby while he was in town buying seeds for the herb garden; being in no particular hurry, he had walked around for a while, stopping along the way to chat with friends and neighbors who were also out and about. It had been a while since he had visited the antique shop, and he liked to stop in occasionally to see if anything new had been added to the store's collection. That day, he had found the mirror.

It was tall enough even for Sev to see himself from head to toe, its frame made from a rich mahogany, delicate knotwork etched all the way around. When Remus noticed its feet were carved into wolf paws, he knew it was destiny.

He had considered writing Sev and telling him about the mirror, but such a beautiful piece might be sold before he got a reply, and besides, he could guess what the answer would be: "Oh, for God's sake, why are you bothering me about it? If you want it, get it."

That had been Sev's standard reply, and Remus had reached the point of feeling comfortable enough to make decisions without consulting him, especially since it seemed more and more as if Sev were viewing theirs as a permanent cohabitation. Remus wanted to begin making the house his home as well, letting it reflect something of himself as well as Sev. That way, even if he was wrong about Severus' intentions, the Potions Master would be left with tangible reminders of Remus' presence in his home.

And so he had bought the mirror and decided not to tell Sev, choosing to let it be a surprise instead.

He had also conveniently forgotten to mention that in the following weeks, he had obtained both a Gryffindor and a Slytherin crest banner via Albus and had hung them in the parlor over the mantle; the walls had been entirely bare until then, and Remus liked the change the crests made in the room.

Next, he had bought a second table for his side of the bed, framed his photograph of the Marauders along with one of his parents taken shortly before their deaths and put both on his table, pleased to be able to display them at last. Funny, he had thought as he stepped back and regarded them, neither he nor Sev had much in the way of personal belongings or mementos. If Remus had had a choice, he would have albums' worth of photos along with the sort of things people tended to collect during the course of their lives: some cheap, some expensive, some silly, some beautiful, some ugly, but all meaningful, providing a reminder of a person or an event, things that meant nothing to anyone else, but which were priceless to their owner. His life, however, hadn't lent itself to that sort of thing, and he had wondered if perhaps Sev was in the same situation, for different reasons.

All in all, he hadn't made many changes; he had no knowledge or experience in home decoration, and anyway, he didn't want to overwhelm Sev with too many alterations all at once. As for what Sev would think about what he had done... well, he'd find out soon enough. Sev had sent an owl that morning, letting Remus know he would arrive late that day, obliged to take a slower method of travel since he couldn't Apparate due to his luggage and Morgause, and Remus had been a walking bundle of anticipation ever since.

The day had progressed at a snail's pace, and Remus found himself doing anything to keep himself busy in hopes it would make time pass more quickly. He stood in front of the mirror now, peering at his reflection with a critical eye, trying to see himself as Sev might see him. What he saw was far more pleasing than the last time he had studied himself closely, which had been during his first few days at Hogwarts. There had been so many changes since then, in his appearance, in his life, in his feelings... Thinking about all that had transpired was enough to boggle his mind, but he was grateful for all the unpleasant things that had happened to him during the course of his life, if they had been necessary steps to leading him here.

His time at Hogwarts, his few months in the seaside village, and having a comfortable home for the last nine months -- all had combined to alter his appearance. Gone was the gaunt, shabby waif who had stared back at him from the mirror in his quarters at Hogwarts. As with the house, small changes had made a difference. Although the amount of physical activity he enjoyed -- walking, gardening, and other odd jobs both for their house and grounds, and that of their neighbors -- had kept him lean, he couldn't count his ribs any longer, and his cheeks were no long sunken and hollow, but gently rounded and suffused with a healthy glow. His wide eyes were bright, sparkling with good health and humor, and he was able to keep his hair short, the way he preferred, rather than having it look like a shaggy, unkempt mane. The barber in Whetby knew exactly how he liked it: long enough on top to brush back and let the natural wave show, and shorter along the sides and back.

He turned and checked out the other side, pleased to see that, after taking an extended holiday, his arse had finally returned home, filling out his jeans nicely, if he did think so himself.

And it was a pleasant change to wear jeans that weren't faded nearly white, with great, gaping holes in the knee. No longer were his clothes old and threadbare, he thought, running both hands down the front of the light-weight, dark teal sweater he wore.

Even though he looked far better than he had months prior, he knew he wasn't a conventionally handsome man. "Cute" had been the word used to describe him most while at school, he remembered with a wry grimace, with "cuddly" following close behind. Sirius had been the one to garner adjectives such as "drop-dead gorgeous", "stunning", and "yummy", not Remus. But still, he was pleased with his appearance, and he doubted Sev would care he was involved with someone who had always been called "adorable" rather than "lickable."

After all, Sev had been the one person who remained immune to Sirius' looks and charm; even his fellow Slytherins had admired Sirius, albeit grudgingly, but Sev... Sev had never fallen victim to Sirius' siren-like charisma. How odd, Remus thought, that I should love the only person Sirius has never been able to charm, and that Sirius should hate him so much, without good reason. Granted, as far as Remus knew, Sirius had never made any effort to win Sev over; theirs had been mutual antagonism from the beginning, but still... it was an interesting situation.

"Tarting yourself up?"

Speak of the devil...

Remus turned away from the mirror to face Sirius, who leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression foreboding.

"I know you don't approve of my relationship with Severus, but you're a guest in our house. Common courtesy should apply." Remus folded his own arms, meeting Sirius' glare with a steady, even gaze.

"Oh, it's our house now, is it?" Sirius pushed himself away from the doorframe and stalked across the room to confront Remus, looming over him. "He's given you the keys, has he? Made you his housekeeper? Or are you just his convenient fuck toy?"

Remus' jaw hardened, and his lips compressed into a firm line, but his voice remained soft and calm. "If that's how you're going to behave, I don't care what Albus wants, you can piss off. I won't be spoken to that way, Sirius Black, nor will I allow you to speak of Severus that way. You'll keep a civil tongue in your head, or you'll leave right now."

Sirius said nothing for a moment, anger still kindled in his dark blue eyes -- and then to Remus' surprise, he looked away in a silent gesture of acquiescence. "Fine, have it your way," he muttered grudgingly. "There are enough people out for my blood without adding one more to the list. It's just..." He glanced back at Remus, his eyes filled with concern. "I don't understand, Remus. I don't understand how you could care for Snape. Did you know he was a Death Eater? Did you know he turned just like I said he would?"

"Yes, I know," Remus replied, glad that Sev had admitted the truth voluntarily so that Sirius' attempt to undermine his trust was thwarted; Sirius' expression was a combination of surprise and disappointment that his revelation hadn't had its intended effect. "Severus told me."

"Then you know he's an evil bastard." The words came out as a snarl.

"I know he made mistakes when he was young -- just as you and I did."

"He doesn't deserve you, Remus. He never has, and he never will. I don't understand how you can bear to have him near you, much less..." He trailed off, his mouth twisting with disgust as he turned away.

A soft sigh escaped Remus as he gazed at his old friend's back, knowing this argument was going nowhere. Sirius had to have an open mind in order for them to solve anything, but that was clearly out of the question. He had made up his mind about Sev, and nothing Remus said would change anything. Closing the distance between them, he reached out and caressed Sirius' upper arm, feeling the tautness in the muscles beneath his palm.

"But I can bear it," he told Sirius quietly. "More than that, I want him. I love him." He felt Sirius grow even more tense at those words, and he squeezed his arm gently, trying to offer reassurance. "For the sake of our friendship -- if it ever meant anything to you, and if you ever want it to mean anything again -- you have to accept that Severus is the choice of my heart. This is the way it is, Sirius. I don't expect you to like it or be happy for me, but I have no intention of arguing with you, defending Severus, or justifying myself."

"So you'd choose him over me?" Sirius asked, his voice laced with bitterness.

"If you forced me to choose, yes," Remus told him gravely. "But I've more than enough room in my heart for you both. I'm in love with him, but I love you too, my dear, dear friend, and I don't want to lose either of you, selfish as that may be."

With an anguished cry, Sirius whirled around and caught Remus up in a fierce, tight embrace; startled, Remus instinctively wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him close even though he felt as if Sirius was going to crush the air from his lungs.

"I don't want to lose you either," Sirius whispered against Remus' neck, breath hot and damp against his skin. "I can't lose anyone else... I can't..."

Those words cut Remus to the bone, and served as a sharp reminder that he wasn't the only person who had lost loved ones, or suffered because of circumstances he couldn't control. Not only had Sirius lost his best friends as well, but he had to live with the pain of knowing his decision had allowed Peter to betray them all -- and he was still a fugitive, destined for a Dementor's Kiss if he were ever caught, just as much of a pariah as Remus had ever been.

"You don't have to lose me," Remus crooned, stroking Sirius' back soothingly. "I'm here, I'll always be here, if you want me."

"But Snape--"

"He's my mate. You're my friend. Neither of you can replace the other in my life," he said firmly, tilting his chin up so he could look Sirius in the eyes.

"He'll hurt you," Sirius warned. "Mark my words. I was right about him turning, and I'll be right about this, too."

"Fine." Remus shrugged and stepped back from the embrace, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "Then you can say 'I told you so' and go beat him up for me."

"This isn't a joke, Remus!" Sirius' temper flared, as it always did when he felt he wasn't being taken seriously. "He's hurt you before, and he'll do it again!"

"You hurt me, too," Remus reminded him, trying to keep his tone as non-accusatory as possible. "Just as I hurt you by loving Severus, and I'm sorry for that, but it's something I don't understand. He's never been a threat to our friendship, whether you want to believe that or not."

"That slimy git isn't a threat to me, he's a threat to you," Sirius growled, his dark eyebrows snapping together in a fierce scowl. "He'll probably try to turn you as well."

"Severus doesn't do my thinking for me," he retorted, not bothering to keep the sharp edge from his voice this time. "I know what side I'm on, and it's the same side he is on. I don't always approve of his methods, but Severus has shown himself to be loyal and brave."

Sirius let out a derisive snort, and it was Remus' turn to glare.

"Albus trusts him," he reminded Sirius. "That's good enough for me, and it should be good enough for you, too."

"Albus has a bad habit of taking in dangerous strays!" Sirius shot back, and Remus felt the blood drain from his face as he felt the full impact of those words; neither of them could deny he was one of those "dangerous strays," one of the more dangerous of the lot, as a matter of fact.

One trembling hand strayed to his cheek, rubbing absently as if the words had dealt a physical blow, and he stared up at Sirius, his tawny eyes wide with shock and brimming with pain. As realization set in, Sirius took a hesitant step toward him, reaching out, but he backed away, shaking his head.

"Remus, I didn't mean--" Sirius gave him an imploring look. "I didn't think--"

Remus laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "That's one trait you and Severus share: sometimes, you both say and do things without thinking first, and look what it gets you."

He scrubbed his face with both hands and released a long, slow breath. This was not how he wanted to spend his time before Sev came home. He wanted to cling to the breathless anticipation, to let the joyful butterflies in his stomach multiply until there were enough to levitate him off the floor. He did not want to have to work through his anger when Sev could arrive at any minute, only to find him needing solitude rather than being eager to fling himself into his lover-to-be's arms.

"This is getting us nowhere," he said wearily. "Either we agree to disagree, or you leave right now. Which is it to be?"

"I meant what I said." Sirius' voice was soft and gentle now, and Remus knew he would be on his best behavior -- for a while. "I don't want to lose you."

"Fine, then you can stay." Remus gave a curt nod and headed for the door. "But I suggest when Sev arrives that you stay in your bedroom, unless you want to see me with my tongue down his throat."

Part of him regretted the words immediately, knowing the blatant reminder of his sexual interest in Sev would twist the knife in Sirius' belly, and that part of him -- the larger part -- had nothing but compassion for his friend, who had suffered so needlessly for so long, and it hated the idea of causing Sirius more pain with hurtful words.

But there was a smaller, not-so-compassionate part of him that just didn't give a damn at the moment.

*~*~*

The parlor seemed more quiet than usual, despite the crackling of the fire; for once, there was no music playing, no sound of turning pages, no conversation, just stillness. Outside, the sunlight began a slow fade to darkness, but Remus paid no attention to the harbinger of nightfall; his eyes appeared to be trained on the dancing flames in the fireplace, but they were unfocused, his gaze turned inward as he sat in his chair, chin propped on one hand, lost in thought.

His mood was less elevated than it had been, partly because of the "discussion" with Sirius, and partly because he was beginning to think Sev wouldn't arrive before moonrise, which meant he wouldn't see him until the next morning -- yet another disappointing delay. Still, he sighed, there was nothing for it. At least he'd gotten Sirius to agree to a cease-fire; even if it lasted only a short time, anything was an improvement. A wicked little grin curved Remus' lips. Not to mention, after that vivid image Remus had given him, it was unlikely Sirius would poke his nose anywhere he might inadvertently witness any part of the reunion.

Without warning, a heavy weight landed in Remus' lap, and he gasped, startled, instinctively pushing away whatever it was that had accosted him, realizing only after he saw a sleek black form land on the floor at his feet that the fuzziness he had felt brushing his palms had a familiar source.

"Mrr!"

Undaunted by his initial rejection, the weight landed in his lap again, and a raspy tongue swiped an abrasive kiss along the end of his nose. Remus stared down at Morgause, frozen in place by an internal war between shock and delight. If Morgause was here, that meant--

"Severus..." he breathed, gathering the sleek black cat up in a tight embrace, and she nestled against him, purring loudly enough for him to hear and feel it vibrating against his chest. "He's home..."

Slowly rising to his feet, Remus stared at the open parlor door, his heart pounding so hard that he felt certain the sound of it was echoing throughout the small room. What should he do? Wait here? Go to the door and greet him? But if Morgause was in the house, surely that meant Sev was, too, so where was he? What was he doing?

He lowered Morgause to the floor, and she trotted on soundless feet out of the room, leaving him standing there alone. His hands were shaking, his fingers were ice-cold, and blood roared in his ears. Nine months it had been since he last saw Severus, right here in this very room. He had cast the claim marker, and they had taken leave of one another without so much as a kiss, or even a handshake.

Despite the intimate turn their letters had taken over the past few months, he still felt at a loss on what would be acceptable now. He wanted to grab Severus and kiss him senseless without bothering with so much as a "hello, how was your trip?" first, but he didn't know how Severus would react to that. Would it be too much, too soon?

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he forced himself to move, to take that first step towards the door, and somehow, he began walking to the entrance hall, expecting to encounter Severus at any moment, and he was there in the entrance hall, the front door was open, and there, there in the corner waiting was --

Severus' luggage.

With Morgause perched on top of the stack, preening.

All the breath expelled from Remus' lungs in one massive whoosh at the unexpected let-down, and he took a moment to steady himself, chastising himself for working himself into such a state of nervousness. It was just Sev, after all. The man he'd loved all his life; the one who, it seemed, had shared his affections all these years; the one who had admitted in a letter that he wanted Remus just as much as Remus wanted him... the one who was standing in the doorway, holding his last piece of luggage, and giving Remus that one-raised-eyebrow look.

Half-formed words trickled down from Remus' brain and shriveled in his throat, dying unspoken. He didn't know how long they stood there, just staring at one another; it could have been a moment, or an eternity. For Remus, it seemed unreal. After months of writing back and forth, of waiting impatiently to hear the flutter of wings at the window announcing the arrival of a new letter, of reading each one until he had it memorized, of treasuring every careful revelation Severus offered, to see him now, face-to-face... it was almost too much to believe.

He had spent countless nights wrapped around Severus' pillow, burying his face against the cool linen, as if he could somehow exhume the ghost of Severus' scent even though he knew that was impossible. Even though the sleeves were too long, he sometimes had worn one of Severus' shirts under his sweaters just so he could feel closer to him. He had curled up in one of the hard wood chairs in Severus' workroom to read, simply because, out of all the rooms in the house, it was the one in which the Potions Master had invested the most of his time and of himself. He had lain awake for hours, a dull ache of longing in his chest as he wished for nothing more than a single touch to relieve the yearning for his mate.

And then Severus tilted his head slightly, his expression quizzical. Remus could guess what he was thinking: "what the devil is he doing just standing there, gawking at me like an idiot?"

That was all it took to break Remus' paralysis. Launching himself across the distance between them, he moved to embrace Severus, but when he got there, Severus' arms were already open, waiting for him, and all he had to do was enter their protective circle. Sliding his arms around Sev's waist, he closed his eyes and rested his head on his mate's shoulder, sighing with relief; Sev wrapped both arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his cheek against Remus' hair, and there they stood in the safety and comfort of each others' arms. This is real, Remus' heart sang joyfully. This is real, this isn't a dream.

For the first time, he felt as if he were indeed home.

After a while, he tipped his head back so he could see Severus' face, and gave him a teasing smile. "Did you miss me?"

"How could I possibly miss you when you kept pestering me with letters?" Sev looked as serious as usual, but there was a faint undercurrent of amusement in his voice as he let his eyes wander over Remus' features as if reaquainting himself with them. Slowly, he lifted one hand to trail his fingertips along Remus' jawline. "You look..." His words trailed off, a subtle shift in expression letting Remus know he was searching for the right -- translation: safe -- way to say what he meant. "You look as you should have all along."

Remus' smile widened, and he gave Severus a gentle squeeze. "Contentment agrees with me."

"Merely contentment? Not happiness?" That elegant jet-black eyebrow lifted again, and Remus tightened his hold, arching subtly against his mate's long, lean body.

"Happiness will come when I'm buried deep inside you, watching you shatter in my arms." His voice was a low growl, and something deep in Sev's dark eyes caught fire in response.

"You have a way with words, but I've always believed actions speak louder than words."

One forceful shove was all it took to make Severus' back hit the wall, drawing an "oof!" from him that was swallowed when Remus sealed his lips over Severus', claiming them as he had imagined doing countless times. That it was real -- that he was kissing and tasting and touching Severus for the first time since they were seventeen -- was enough to make him light-headed.

God, but he had wanted this for so long, and now it was happening, and he couldn't get enough! He heard soft, eager whimpers, vaguely aware that they came from himself as he pressed Severus against the wall, aligning their bodies, his hands roaming with frantic need while he deepened the kiss.

No coaxing was needed; Severus parted his lips to allow Remus' questing tongue access, meeting it with his own, engaging it in a sensual duel; Remus drew it into his own mouth, sucking lightly, then released it, wanting to explore. He ran his tongue along Severus' palate, along his lips, traced every nuance of that delicious mouth until he knew it by heart.

Memory's echoes had let slip away so many details: the heady combination of mint and the sweat of arousal that made up his mate's scent; the taste of him, so sweet to Remus' starved tongue; the strength in his arms as he held Remus close. So much lost, and so much newly learned, and oh, how much Remus wanted this to last forever.

Molding their bodies together, Remus maneuvered Sev's thigh between his legs so that he could begin a slow, boneless undulation against it, abandoning himself to instinct, drowning in sensory delight. His fingers scrabbled at the high collars as he nuzzled Severus' neck with his nose and lips; as he had thought, the claim marker had long since faded, no trace of its existence remaining, and a low keening rose in the back of his throat as he licked the place where it had been.

But something niggled in the back of his mind, something he knew was important, something cutting through the haze of lust clouding his brain like moonbeams on a cloudy night --

Moon.

That was it.

"Bloody fucking hell," he muttered against Sev's damp skin. "We have to stop."

"What? Why?" Severus' voice was breathy and ragged.

"Tonight... It's..." He hated to say the words, hated to bring up the ugly spectre of his curse in the midst of what should be a joyful reunion. "It's the full moon." He leaned his forehead on Severus' shoulder and released a long, shuddery breath. "I wish it weren't," he whispered.

"It's the last night for this month," Sev reminded him.

"You keep track?" He lifted his head so he could meet Severus' eyes.

"I have incentive to these days."

Nodding, Remus lowered his gaze again, feeling a pang of separation even though he was still in his mate's arms. "I'll stay in the cellar tonight," he said, pulling free of the embrace and wrapping his arms around himself. "Unless you'd rather I didn't stay in the house. There's a patch of forest not far--"

"Don't be stupid." Severus' tone was sharp and no-nonsense. "Go on up to our bedroom. Make yourself useful and take some of those while you're at it," he added, gesturing to the pile of luggage, and Remus stared at him, nonplussed.

"You... want me to stay with you?" he asked hesitantly, wanting to make certain he had understood correctly, his amazement growing when Severus gave a curt nod. "Why?"

"It's quite simple." Severus clasped his hands behind his back -- what Remus recognized as his lecture stance. "By all appearances, we've managed to re-establish our relationship over the last few months without even being in the same room. The last time I saw you in wolf form was in the Shrieking Shack, which left me with some unpleasant memories. I can't reasonably expect to spend the rest of my life avoiding you once a month, thus it seems rather essential I remain with you tonight." He paused, and Remus saw what in anyone else's eyes would look like a flicker of apprehension. "Unless I've misunderstood, and you wish this to be merely an affair."

"No!" Remus exclaimed, shaking his head vehemently as he rested his hands at Severus' waist, not embracing him again, but establishing what he hoped was reassuring contact nonetheless. "I don't want just an affair. I want the rest of our lives, nothing less."

Although his expression gave nothing of his feelings away, Severus cupped Remus' cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the shallow cleft in Remus' chin. "Good. Then we're in agreement. Now help me carry my luggage to our bedroom so we can be settled before your transformation."

"Yes, Severus." Remus' voice was quietly pitched, but inside, he was shouting with glee at this unexpected turn of events. That Sev wanted to confront his fears not only made Remus proud of his courage, but it was also a reassurance that Sev was approaching their relationship with the same level of commitment that Remus was.

Suddenly, it didn't seem to matter so much that the full moon would keep them from making love for the first time that night. They had the rest of their lives together, and with that certainty nestled comfortably in his heart, Remus could wait a while longer for sex. They were together. He would have Sev's company that night. That was more than enough.

*~*~*

Humming.

As Snape made his way up the stairs, Morgause preceding him with her regal tail held high, he could hear Remus behind him, humming a cheerful little tune as he helped lug Snape's baggage to their bedroom.

Rolling his eyes, Snape repressed a snort. It was easy to make Remus Lupin happy, so easy that it was almost pathetic, almost painful the way he took such great delight in the smallest things -- such as simply being allowed to stay in the same room with Snape that night.

Once they reached the bedroom, Snape deposited his bags near the wardrobe and turned, watching Remus as he moved across the room and set down the bags he carried in the same place; it was only when he stepped back and looked expectantly at Snape, as if awaiting further instructions, that Snape noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks.

Slender... lovely... just like the rest of him... God! Pull yourself together, man! Snape chastised himself, wrenching his gaze away from Remus' bare feet. Was there any part of Remus that Snape wouldn't find alluring? For his sanity's sake, he hoped so.

"Aren't your feet cold?" he asked, not caring if he sounded waspish. He'd spent far too much time during the last few months taking cold showers thanks to Remus' increasingly... vivid letters, and now he was thwarted in relieving the unrelenting ache of need and yearning by the damned full moon.

"I like going barefoot, so I cast a warming spell on the floors," Remus admitted, glancing at Snape from beneath his lashes, as if he weren't certain how Snape would react to that news.

A look around the room showed that a warming spell on the chilly stone floor wasn't the only new addition, and Snape stared pointedly at the mirror, causing a dull flush to rise in Remus' cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind..." he said hesitantly, his fingers twisting round and round one another.

A sharp retort hovered on the tip of Snape's tongue, quivering there like a spring-loaded arrow. Normally, he would have let it fly without hesitation, but from the look of things, Remus was apprehensive enough about how Snape would take to the changes, and for once, he curbed his instinct. Some faint little voice, rusty from disuse, niggled in the back of his mind, reminding him that he wasn't the most forthcoming person, and perhaps Remus needed some reassurance of his place in Snape's life, something a little more concrete than vague allusions or between-the-lines messages.

"Do I have to spell it out?" he asked gruffly, turned back to the door. "What's mine is yours, and you can do as you damned well please. I'm going to get the rest of the luggage," he added, hurrying out of the room before Remus could say or do anything in response. Knowing Remus, he had probably gone all soppy.

Three pieces of luggage remained in the entrance hall, small but awkward, and it took Snape a few minutes to arrange them so he could carry all of them at once. He half-expected to see Remus trotting down the stairs, offering to help, but no, he was left to manage alone. The largest piece proved the most uncooperative, and he muttered obscenities as he struggled to maneuver them upstairs without letting them slip from his grip. I could have levitated them, but it's too late now, he thought with a grumbling sigh. Should have thought of that sooner.

But all his struggling was to no avail when he returned to the bedroom. The bags slipped from his nerveless fingers and tumbled to the floor unheeded as he stood frozen, transfixed by the sight that met his eyes.

A flash of bare thigh.

Fair skin bathed in the warm golden glow of firelight.

Remus, naked except for a towel around his waist, standing by the fireplace, watching him with an expression that was part wistfulness, part hunger.

"You--" Displeased by the unusual high pitch of his voice on that word, Snape cleared his throat and tried again. "You're undressed."

As if that weren't completely... deliciously... achingly... obvious.

Remus nodded, a shy smile curving his lips as he tucked the edge of the towel in at his side. "I have to be, otherwise my clothes get ripped to shreds when I transform."

"... oh..."

Snape didn't move, knowing that if he closed the distance between them, if he laid so much as a single finger on Remus, he wouldn't be able to stop. Instead, he took the only option left open to him: he stared. He drank in the sight greedily, feasting on every detail in hopes it would be enough to sustain him until he could touch at last.

His eyes cut a trail that his hands couldn't follow, tracing the graceful curve of muscle in Remus' arms, the contour of his shoulders -- he frowned slightly when he noticed scar tissue marring the right shoulder, certain he knew the source of it -- the tempting shadow cast in the hollow of his throat, the outline of his collarbones, the flat nipples...

Snape quelled a shiver, closing his eyes to keep his gaze from moving lower, but the memory was imprinted on his brain, and his imagination was creating images of himself teasing those nipples to pebbled hardness. His eyes flew open again, refocusing on Remus. At least reality wasn't quite as dangerous as his imagination at the moment.

Fifteen years. That was how long Remus had said it had been since he had engaged in any kind of sexual activity. How was it possible that no one had wanted to touch him? No one had wanted to taste that full lower lip and make it glisten with kisses? No one had wanted to enfold that lithe body in their arms and make it writhe with pleasure? No one had wanted to watch that expressive face in the throes of orgasm?

Fools.

No matter. The blindness of others in the past meant Snape would benefit now. He would do all those things and more.

Fifteen years. It had been slightly less than that for Snape, although he hadn't said so, even when Remus had asked point-blank. The question had amused Snape, but not surprised him. It was, he thought, one of Remus' many personality contradictions: he was quiet and unobtrusive -- until his comfort and trust level with someone reached a certain point, and then he was likely to say and ask whatever popped in his head when in private.

Snape remembered the first time he had encountered that particular trait. They had been meeting outside of class for about a month, and Snape had been trying to maintain an outward appearance of friendship, while remaining acutely aware of the thrum of attraction he felt every time he was near Remus. Bored with homework, their conversation had turned to Quidditch, and they were debating the merits of the Glasgow Gryphons when out of nowhere, Remus had casually remarked about the team's Captain, "I think Duncan McGregor is dead sexy, and I'd shag him in a heartbeat. What about you?"

That off-hand comment had nearly gotten Remus sprayed with tea.

Eventually, he had grown more accustomed to Remus' forth-rightness, accepting it as part of Remus' nature; once he trusted someone as deeply as he had trusted Snape, he would tell them anything they wanted to know, and he wouldn't hesitate to ask about things he wanted to know either.

Snape could almost pinpoint the moment when Remus had regained his former level of trust and comfort with him; reading over Remus' letters showed a gradual shift from casual, impersonal nattering to a more personal, intimate tone -- and with that had come the questions. Some of them he had answered, and some of them he had chosen to ignore. One thing he knew was that Remus wouldn't push; blunt Remus may be, but he did possess some measure of tact and discretion, and he did know when to back off, especially with Snape.

Except right now, he wasn't backing off, he was moving forward, his predatory gait making that damned towel slip from his waist to his hips, low enough to tease Snape with the sight of his lightly furred abdomen. Snape wanted to drop to his knees and nuzzle that tempting patch of hair, to dip his tongue in Remus' navel, to tear the towel away...

"Here, let me help you," Remus was saying.

Eventually, the words permeated Snape's brain, which slowly processed them into coherent language, and he realized Remus was referring to the bags he had dropped. As he watched, Remus bent to pick up two of the bags, and the towel--

"No, I'll do it!" Snape exclaimed, grabbing the handles and yanking the bags out of Remus' reach. "You just... go over there and keep your towel on," he added, inclining his head towards the hearth, which was safely across the room.

Whiskey-brown eyes dancing with mirth, Remus straightened, grasping the ends of the towel, which had threatened to become untucked, with one hand as he retreated. Taking a moment to compose himself, Snape hauled the remaining bags over to the pile by the wardrobe, deciding not to unpack just yet. He was tired from the long journey, and the next morning would be soon enough. He paused as it occurred to him that the next morning, Remus would be back in human form. Well, I'll unpack *sometime* tomorrow, he amended.

A sudden, sharp cry from behind him shattered his pleasant reverie, and Snape whirled around to see Remus crouched on all fours, panting. He glanced up at Snape, pain etched in every line of his face.

"It's begun," he whispered, and Snape could see the involuntary ripple of muscle and sinew along his back, rolling under the skin, distorting the lines of his body to an obscene parody of his naked beauty.

Snape's mind reeled, but he couldn't look away, not because he was transfixed by the sight, but because he wouldn't allow himself to avert his eyes, even for a moment. If he wanted to love Remus Lupin, he had to witness this. He had to know -- and to accept -- the full truth of what Remus was. But that didn't stop him from feeling sickened. He had seen many horrific things while he had been among the Death Eaters, but this... this was unnatural. This shouldn't have been happening... This shouldn't have been allowed...

Remus had fallen onto his side and lay convulsing on the floor, not weeping, not crying out, only faint mewling sounds revealing the agony he was suffering, and somehow that was worse than if he had been screaming. His hands, his legs, his face -- every part of him was contorted, twisting out of shape, shortening here, elongating there, coarse fur the same bark-brown-and-silver as his hair sprouting over his entire body. Fingernails lengthened and sharpened into claws; his nose and mouth stretched into a snout; there was nothing about him that remained untouched by the transformation. Even his eyes lightened to a golden hue.

Snape backed up, pressing himself against the door, one hand scrabbling for the handle, but it was an empty gesture for his own reassurance that he could escape if necessary. If nothing else, his pride would refuse to let him to turn tail and run away. Throughout the year, he had sent a batch of the wolfbane potion every month; knowing he wouldn't be home in time to prepare it, Snape had sent the potion ahead this month as well, and he didn't need to ask if Remus had taken it. Retaining his humanity and removing the danger he presented to others was far too important to Remus for him to miss a single dose.

It doesn't matter what he looks like, Snape reminded himself sharply. It's still Remus. He won't hurt me. He won't attack, not this time.

But then the werewolf -- larger and stronger than average wolves -- rolled to its feet, gave a full body shake, and turned its feral gaze on him, and for Snape, the last twenty years disappeared in a haze of terror.

Black's words rang in Snape's ears as he opened the thick wooden door, its creaks and groans due to little use and exposure to the elements, and peered down the dark corridor. "You want to know where Remus goes every month? I'll tell you..."

The tunnel smelled musty and stale, and no torches sprang to life as he stepped across the threshold. At the end of the narrow hall, he saw flickering light, and it looked as if a room lay beyond; he was about to start walking towards it when a shift in the shadows made him freeze.

"Remus?" he called, expecting to see the other boy appear at the end of the hall. Perhaps he would be irritated by Snape following him, or perhaps he would be welcoming, his husky baritone voice carrying a teasing undercurrent as he mock-scolded Snape about his nosiness. "Remus, it's Sev. I know you haven't wanted to tell me where you go, but--"

Words -- coherent thought -- ability to move -- all fled as the shadows in the room at the end of the tunnel began dancing again, the source of their activity moving into view at last.

A wolf, no, a werewolf, huge and fierce and growling.

a werewolf a werewolf Remus is a werewolf

He could see the strength gathering in its haunches, saw its powerful legs launch it into a spring.

Remus is I wanted to make love he is this thing

Saw it barreling down the hall straight at him, tongue lolling, teeth bared.

monster he didn't tell me wanted to give myself he's going to kill me

"Snape! Snape, for God's sake, move!"

love him he and Black want to kill me let him just let him do it I'm dead already

Frantic hands, strong hands grabbed the back of his robes and yanked hard, hauling him backwards and slamming the door shut just in time, throwing the lock for good measure. James Potter leaned against it, panting, his blue eyes even larger than usual behind his glasses, which were askew. His face was pale as milk, and he was visibly shaking. Snape stared at James without seeing him, his face and eyes gone blank, vaguely aware that on the other side of the door, a monster howled its frustration, claws scrabbling at the wood, its snarls escalating as it tried to reach its prey in vain.

"That was Remus." His voice sounded distant even to his own ears.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this." James stared back at him, his expression one of fading fear and growing concern. "Why didn't you move, Snape?"

Anger would come later, riding on a wave of white heat, but for now, there was only shock and pain.

"Why should I have?"

Later, he would be furious with himself for revealing the bleakness he felt and showing weakness to James Potter, of all people, but at the time, he didn't care.

If he had seen pity or mockery, that might have roused him, but there was only gentle sympathy shining in James' eyes as he wrapped a steadying arm around Snape's shoulders and led him away.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating. His breath was coming in short, shallow pants, and he was beginning to feel light-headed as memory flooded him, sweeping him away on a tide of decades-old fear and pain. Across the room, the werewolf took a step forward, its glowing eyes never leaving Snape's, and then it stopped, as if it had had second thoughts, and sat down on hearth rug.

Snape's fingers had a death grip on the handle of the door, and his knuckles were beginning to hurt, but he didn't release it. He felt as paralyzed now as he had back then, but there was no James to come and pull him to safety, only himself alone in the room with a werewolf... and Morgause.

His haughty little lady stepped from behind his luggage and padded over to the werewolf, her bearing as regal as always. She showed no hint of fear as she detoured to investigate Remus' abandoned towel, sniffing daintily at it, then at the werewolf, as if comparing scents. The werewolf lowered its shaggy head, snuffling at her, and Snape's heart leaped into his throat; he tried to unlock his frozen joints, wanting to sprint across the room and snatch Morgause away to safety, but she was right there, at the beast's jaws, and he would never make it in time--

One small black paw darted out and swiped at the werewolf's nose, and it let out a startled yelp, recoiling away from her, and Morgause turned her head and began licking her paw, ignoring the werewolf entirely as if, having defeated it so easily, it were now beneath her notice. Somehow, the wolf managed to look both wounded and offended, and Snape began to breath again, his lungs gratefully sucking in air as he struggled not to collapse with relief.

It was Remus... There really was no danger this time...

Old fear began to melt away, terrifying memories replaced by amusement as Morgause deigned to turn her attention on the wolf -- on Remus -- again, staring at him with slitted green eyes. Remus cocked his head at her, but didn't make any overtures; having his nose swatted once had obviously been lesson enough.

"Mrraow?" Her tone was questioning, and Remus answered with an odd chuffing sound, which apparently pleased her, since she arched her back and walked back and forth across his front paws, leaning against him just enough to establish contact.

Prising his fingers loose from the handle, Snape stepped away from the door and approached the pair slowly; as soon as he noticed Snape moving closer, Remus leaped up to all fours and watched him expectantly. Morgause took the opportunity to investigate his tail, batting at it, as if experimenting with a possible new toy. Snape stopped a few feet away, his hands still ice-cold; the apprehension hadn't faded away yet, but he held his ground when Remus took a few hesitant steps toward him.

It was, Snape thought, an entirely different scenario than the first time he'd faced Remus in this form. Instead of charging forward in an attack, Remus was obviously trying to allay any anxiety Snape might be feeling by moving forward a few steps, then stopping to allow Snape to get accustomed to the idea of close proximity with such a huge, fierce-looking creature. How does Hagrid do it? Snape wondered. His heart-rate had accelerated again, but he curled his hands into fists and willed himself to stand firm.

Then he felt the push of a cold, wet nose against his wrist and heard a quiet whine as Remus butted his head against Snape's hip. Without looking at the wolf, Snape unfurled his fingers, tangling them in Remus' fur.

I'm touching a werewolf... But it's safe... It *is* safe...

Almost instinctively, he began to stroke the coarse pelt, and he heard Remus release a loud sigh; glancing down, he saw the yellow eyes were slitted as if with pleasure, and Remus was leaning towards him, but not quite touching his legs. Kneeling, Snape faced Remus, staring into his eyes, seeking -- and finding -- a spark of human intelligence deep within them.

"Remus..." he breathed. In response, Remus pushed his snout against Snape's neck and lapped at the narrow expanse of skin above his collar -- right where the claim marker had once been -- then backed away, watching Snape again with a question mark clear to read on his furry face. "Yes, I know it's you in there."

That got him a lick full on the face, a wide, slobbery tongue sliding across his cheek, dangerously close to his lips, which -- knowing Remus -- was probably not an accident.

"None of that," he warned, his tone and expression stern as he rose to his feet again, but Remus merely flashed him a lupine grin and tried to bury his nose in Snape's groin. Dancing backwards, Snape threw up both hands in a warding-off gesture, scowling a warning. "Absolutely not!"

Releasing an annoyed snort, Remus sat down again, trading looks with Morgause, both of them seeming to express the same sentiment: "Foolish humans."

Still feeling the effects of the adrenaline pumping through his system, Snape was wide awake and feeling slightly on edge. Unpacking didn't seem like such a bad idea after all, and so while Remus and Morgause stalked and chased each other around the room, Snape set to the task. Sorting through the wardrobe, he was struck by the contrast of seeing one of his stark black jackets nestled against a pair of the Muggle-style pants called "jeans" that Remus favored.

Casual versus formal. Old-fashioned versus modern. They were so different in so many ways. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Remus dive after Morgause, who had darted beneath the bed, trying without success to push himself under the bed after her, growling playfully all the while. Meanwhile, Morgause leapt onto the bed from the other side, bounded across it, and jumped down onto Remus' back, earning a startled yelp as a reward for her sneak attack.

Snape shook his head, the barest hint of a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The more relaxed he became, the more Remus would let his true nature show: outgoing and full of mischief. Not for the first time, Snape wondered what he had gotten himself into. He wasn't outgoing, he wasn't playful. He wasn't even a very good conversationalist. How long would it take for Remus to grow bored?

No. He turned back to the wardrobe, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He wouldn't think like that. There was something between them, something that had lasted all these years, something that neither of them had been able to forget or deny. Their differences would provide balance for their relationship. Besides, he still believed what he had told Remus once when they were still in school: they were kindred spirits, possessing an understanding of one another that no one else could provide. An odd match, to be sure, but a solid one.

After everything except the items belonging in his workroom had been put away, Snape pulled off his robes and hung them over the back of a chair for Nibley to clean and press. The adrenaline rush had ebbed, and he was feeling the weight of fatigue once more; all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. When he woke up, Remus would be in human form once more, and they could enjoy a proper reunion. His fingers were on automatic as he began unfastening his jacket, his mind focused on getting out of his clothes and into his bed. It wasn't until he had removed his jacket and begun unfastening the pristine white shirt beneath that he realized the room had grown quiet.

Very quiet.

Too quiet.

All the bumping and scraping and scrabbling of claws on the stone floor had ceased. Curious, Snape paused with his fingers poised about half-way down the front of the shirt and glanced around, only to find Remus sitting in the middle of the floor, ignoring Morgause in favor of staring at him with unsettling intensity. At that moment, Snape was glad the room was dimly lit, because he felt a rush of heat in his face and knew he had to be blushing.

"I am not a peep show," he informed Remus frostily, clutching his shirt closed with both hands.

Remus danced with his front paws a bit, whimpering pitifully as if begging, but Snape wasn't swayed by the display.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Remus let out a disparaging cough, giving Snape what was a clearly an 'oh, for God's sake' look. Snape supposed it was foolish of him to be prudish now, when he planned to be naked and sweating with Remus as soon as possible, but there was something about the idea of stripping under his lover-to-be's scrutiny that he didn't like. Perhaps because he couldn't enjoy the same pleasure, perhaps because it was disconcerting to be ogled by a wolf albeit one with a human consciousness, perhaps because... he glanced down at his left arm.

"Turn around," he repeated, and this time, Remus complied, turned around -- and just happened to end up facing the mirror. "Nice try," Snape said, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm. "If you're so damned randy that even watching me undress is a cheap thrill, maybe you should find Black and hump his leg."

Snape didn't need a translator to know the garbled noises Remus made in response to that were the werewolf version of "go fuck yourself," but at least he was able to undress in peace after Remus retreated to a remote corner of the room in a huff. Normally, he slept naked during the summer, but that didn't seem like the wisest course of action, all things considered, and he decided sleeping in his boxers -- the ones Remus had given him for Christmas -- was a far better idea.

With a weary sigh, he crawled into bed, closed the curtains on the side facing the hearth to block out the dim, glowing firelight, and settled in. He had almost drifted into a light doze when he heard the rhythmic click of claws on the stones, which stopped next to the bed and was followed by a soft, pleading yowl. There was just enough light in the room for Snape to crack his eyes open and see Remus had propped his head on the edge of the bed and was watching Snape, managing to look amazingly pathetic for such a fierce creature. Snape didn't need to ask what he wanted, and, if he were honest, he had to admit he wanted it too.

"Oh, all right," he said, trying to sound as grudging as possible just so Remus wouldn't be able to gloat over an easy victory. "Come on."

He held out one arm, and Remus didn't hesitate to accept the invitation; a moment later, Remus had taken over half the bed, his back pressed against Snape's chest, all four legs stretched out in front of him. Releasing a gusty sigh of contentment, the yellow eyes closed, and within two minutes, his breathing became slow and even as he drifted off to sleep. Snape, however, spent a few minutes being amused by finding himself spooned up next to a werewolf. Still, a little contact was better than none at all. He draped one arm across Remus' body, the coarse fur tickling his skin, and he breathed in the wild scent clinging to the shaggy pelt. It wasn't so bad, really, and at least in this form, he didn't have to worry whether Remus snored.

By the time Morgause jumped gracefully onto the bed ten minutes later, both werewolf and wizard were deeply asleep, nestled as close to one another as they could get.

*~*~*

Pale morning light streamed through the windows, casting warm patches on the floor when Snape woke for the second time. The first time had been earlier, when the moon set. Remus' transformation from wolf back to man was no less painful, and seemed more draining; afterward, he had gone limp, shivering even though he was drenched in sweat, and his breathing was labored. Snape had left their bed long enough to find the towel Remus had discarded the night before and used it to dry him off. It was Snape's first look at Remus' naked body, but touching Remus while he was on the verge of collapse was hardly what Snape considered erotic; unlike some he had known among the Death Eaters, he preferred his partners to be fully conscious.

Instead of gazing his fill at the sight laid out before his eyes, Snape had drawn the covers over Remus, stroked sweat-damp hair away from his pale, drawn face, and ordered him to go back to sleep. Mustering strength from God-knew-where, Remus had rolled onto his side and nestled against Snape's chest, draping one arm across Snape's waist possessively. Trapped and not at all displeased about it, Snape had tucked Remus under his chin, and let himself drift back to sleep as well.

But now he was awake, and it occured to him this was something he had never done before: slept an entire night and woken up with another person.

Remus was still cuddled up next to him, and he had managed to tangle his legs with Snape's, so not only could Snape feel almost every inch of Remus' body pressed against his own, but they were closely entwined as well. He felt every exhalation of Remus' breath on his chest, felt the delicious slide of skin-on-skin when Remus shifted in his sleep, as if trying to move closer still.

Sliding his hand down the silken expanse of Remus' back, he let it come to rest in the curve of his lower back just before it turned into the swell of his backside, feeling the caress of downy hair against his fingerpads as he thought about the events of the night before. He had faced the sight that had haunted his nightmares for years, and he was free of fear at last.

Now it was the morning after, and this was by far the most intimate experience of Snape's life, even more intimate than sex. That, in its essence, was merely a joining of bodies, and he knew from experience it could mean physical gratification and nothing more. The melding of flesh didn't require sharing minds or hearts, and Snape had never shared either with his former partners. He and they had gotten the desired physical release, and that was where it ended.

But to sleep with someone else, moreover to sleep in his arms... that was a closeness Snape had never experienced. It was a closeness he had never wanted to experience. It meant leaving himself open and vulnerable; it meant trust, and that was something he simply hadn't had -- before now. Desire had faded for the moment, and all he wanted was to simply be with Remus, sharing his bed, sharing his body heat, sharing his very breath.

A little shiver rippled through him when he thought about the unspoken commitment he had made to Remus just by sleeping with him. Their relationship was real now, and it would last for the rest of their lives. On the surface, that was a daunting thought, but Snape refused to be intimidated. The bond between them had been created the moment Remus' lips touched his that long ago night in the Hogwarts library, when he had believed his feelings to be reciprocated. Like it or not, willing to admit it or not, Snape had belonged to Remus ever since, adhering to a vow they hadn't been given a chance to make, sharing nothing of himself that mattered with anyone else.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he gazed down at Remus, who slept on, oblivious to the scrutiny. How peaceful he looked, Snape mused. To his own surprise, he lifted his hand and, with feather-light touches, traced the length of Remus' nose, along his jaw, across his brow, there was nothing that remained untouched in his tactile quest to map out as much of his partner's face as he could reach and imprint the memory on his fingertips. Through it all, Remus smiled a little, as if the butterfly caresses gave him pleasant dreams, but he didn't stir, and Snape felt certain he wouldn't wake for a while yet.

Snape, however, had no intention of lolling in bed until Remus awoke. He was wide awake, and there were things that needed doing. Easing out of bed as carefully and quietly as he could, he slipped away from Remus' embrace and set about his usual morning routine. Less than an hour later, he was ensconced in his workroom with a cup of tea and some toast, unpacking some supplies he hadn't wanted to leave at Hogwarts; immersed in the task at hand, he didn't hear anyone approach until a voice with a sarcastic edge that almost matched his own interrupted his work.

"Hadn't figured you for the casual type, Snape."

Snape straightened and turned around to see Sirius Black standing in the doorway, raking a disdainful blue gaze up and down the length of Snape's frame, taking in his state of dress... or rather state of undress, considering he was wearing his dressing-gown and not much else.

Damn. In all the previous night's activity, Snape had forgotten they had a house guest, and he didn't bother hiding his irritation at both his own lapse of memory and Black's unwanted presence in the house and in the room.

"I didn't see the point in putting on layers of clothes I had no intention of wearing for very long," Snape retorted, smirking at the red stain that crept up Black's neck and into his face.

"Where's Remus?" Black asked, his voice tight as if he were trying hard to control his tongue.

For once, Snape thought venomously. "Still sleeping," was all he said aloud, however, and Black nodded.

"He probably won't wake up until early afternoon," he said. "He always needed extra sleep on the days after a transformation."

"Yes." Snape's tone softened despite himself. "It appeared to be a quite taxing experience."

"So you stayed with him, then?" Black's eyebrows lifted with surprise.

"Of course." Ice dripped from each word.

"I'm surprised," Black said, his lips curving in a mocking smile. "But then again, maybe I shouldn't be. After all, wasn't it you who wouldn't move even when the werewolf was charging straight at you? James told me he couldn't understand why you just stood there. What I would give to have been able to see that! Severus Snape, paralyzed with fear!"

So much for the damned truce, Snape thought, his hands curling into fists. "You would have liked to have seen that, eh?" he asked in a deceptively calm and silky voice. "You would have liked to have seen how your best friend nearly got mauled?" Thoughts of what might have happened to Remus had James Potter not arrived in time -- Azkaban or execution -- flooded his mind, and that was enough to banish all semblance of calm. "You would have liked to have seen Remus come within a hairsbreadth of committing murder? I'm not the only one you could have gotten killed that night, you fool!" he shouted, feeling that damned tell-tale vein on his forehead beginning to throb. "You've always judged me and found me lacking, Black," he snarled, decades of bitterness swelling to the forefront, sweeping him along on a tidalwave of anger. "You've always considered yourself so much better than me, but tell me: in addition to the betrayal and pain you brought on James and Remus, what did you do to Pettigrew, hhm? What did you do to him to make him turn?"

Oh, that did it. That was exactly the right button to stomp on.

"You swine!" Black's face went a lovely reddish-purple hue, and the only thing that spoiled the sight for Snape was that a tiny part of his brain that was still rational knew that his own face was a matching shade.

"Self-righteous bastard!"

"You arrogant, disgusting worm! You turned to Voldemort, you traitor! You left Remus with a broken heart, and you went straight to the enemy! Did you have that planned all along? Were you just toying with him? I knew you were going to end up a dark wizard! I told Remus, and he didn't believe me, but you proved me right, you piece of filth! You don't deserve him!"

"Neither do you, you sanctimonious hypocrite!"

On it went, both of them frothing at the mouth, shrieking vile allegations about each other's nature, personal hygiene, and ancestry. Neither of them had wands handy, leaving Black looking like he was poised on the verge of lashing out physically, and Snape quivering with fury.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?"

Damn. Snape's bubble of anger burst. A lecture about Putting Our Differences Aside For the Greater Good (aka Please Try to Get Along With That Sodding Bastard Whether You Like It or Not) will probably be forthcoming, he thought regretfully, glancing at the door to see Remus storm into the room, looking like a cute little sleepy-eyed puppy come to discipline a couple of quarreling pit bulls. He had taken the time to pull on a pair of jeans and a shirt, but his hair was touseled, and his face showed clear signs that he was still drowsy. All that, plus the bare feet, made Snape want to whisk him straight back to the bedroom -- and not to go back to sleep.

"Did we wake you?" Black's face was still bright red, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes glittered with fury, but he was making an effort to calm down, as was Snape.

"Yes." Remus shot a glare at both of them. "I followed the screaming. Imagine my surprise at finding the source."

Snape lifted an appraising eyebrow, mentally chalking up a point on Remus' side of the scoreboard for that nice bit of well-delivered sarcasm. Either he had an innate gift, or Snape was rubbing off on him.

"Now, would you care to tell me what's going on, or shall I guess?"

"He started it," Snape said, folding his arms and glaring at Black.

"And I'm sure you finished it," Remus countered, then he sighed and rubbed his temples. "Sirius, I thought we made an agreement yesterday." Before Black could respond, Remus turned to Snape, his eyes darkened with disappointment. "And as for you--"

But whatever he had been about to say was lost when the House Elf appeared and scurried over to him.

"I is sorry for interrupting, Master Remus, but you is wanted downstairs," Nibley announced, and Snape stared down at him, wondering if he had heard right.

Apparently he wasn't the only one, since Remus shot Snape a bewildered look before turning his attention back to Nibley. "Me? Are you certain?"

Nibley nodded vigorously. "Headmaster is wanting to see you, Master Remus."

This time, all three Wizards traded looks, Remus wide-eyed with alarm, Black startled and concerned, and Snape grim and determined. Sweeping past all of them, Snape strode out of the workroom, intent on finding Albus. There was only one reason he could think of why the Headmaster would visit him at home, the same reason which had precipitated every other visit: Voldemort.

But when he burst into the parlor, expecting to see Albus with the expression of fatigue and concern tinged with steely determination that Snape had grown to know and dread, he was surprised to be met with an apologetic smile instead. The smile melted from apologetic to knowing as the Headmaster took in Snape's appearance, and there was a twinkle in his eyes when he spoke.

"I do apologize for intruding like this, Severus," he said, a ripple of amusement underlying his voice. "I realize this is possibly the worst case of timing since Peeves discovered the joys of ectoplasmic goo right before -- well, I won't bore you with that," he interrupted himself, waving one hand dismissively as Remus and Black tumbled into the room, also eager to hear the reason for his unexpected visit.

"Has something happened?" Snape demanded curtly, drawing his dressing-gown more closely around himself; he hadn't felt either vulnerable or exposed in front of Black, but Dumbledore was another matter entirely, especially since the older Wizard was assuming things that weren't true... Well, not yet, anyway, but he still didn't care for the feeling that he had been caught in mischief by an affectionately amused father. "Has Voldemort--"

"No, no, nothing like that," Albus assured them, crossing the room to stand in front of Remus and rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I have need of you," he told the younger man somberly.

A protective surge rose in Snape's chest, and he found himself shaking his head with denial before he even knew what Albus intended to say. "He shouldn't leave," he protested. "The Death Eaters--"

Albus glanced at Snape over his shoulder, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding, and Snape stepped back again, irritated anew that he was such an open book to the venerable Wizard. "This has nothing to do with Voldemort, Severus. It's a Hogwarts matter, and you know Remus will be perfectly safe there from the Death Eaters." He turned back to Remus, whose total attention was on him. "Hagrid discovered a rabid werewolf in the Forbidden Forest. He believes it has reached the advanced stages of the illness."

At those words, Remus turned pale, looking as if he were going to be ill, and Albus tightened his grip on his shoulder as if to steady and comfort him.

"Yes," Albus nodded. "It is trapped in wolf form, suffering the ravages of the illness and spreading it to other creatures. We need to stop it. We need you to stop it."

NO! The word trembled on the tip of Snape's tongue, dying unuttered. He knew why Albus had come to Remus to perform this task, but for a split second, his emotions over-ruled his pragmatism, and he hated Albus for asking this of Remus. But if he were in Albus' position, he knew he would make the same decision and for the same reason. Remus was already infected with lycanthropy. A second bite would do nothing to him, and there were antidotes to protect him against contracting Rabies.

But the icy fist gripping Snape's chest didn't loosen its vise-like grasp in the slightest, because there was nothing that would protect Remus from having his throat ripped out if the creature took him by surprise.

"When?" Remus' voice was steady and strong; Albus cast another look over his shoulder at Snape, this one tinged with remorse.

"Will you come back with me now?"

"Of course." Remus answered without hesitation, and Snape let his mask of stony indifference settle into place, hiding the sudden plunge of apprehension he felt in the pit of his stomach when he considered the risk his partner was about to take, not to mention the disappointment that their... celebration would have to be postponed yet again.

"Tough luck, Snape." Black made no effort to hide his malicious glee, and Snape gave him a withering look.

"Fuck off, Black," he snapped, striding out of the room without once looking back at any of them; he didn't want to see the pity on Albus' face or the smirk on Black's.

Slamming the bedroom door helped, but he was still fuming several minutes later when it creaked open and closed again, heralding Remus' entrance. Snape kept his attention focused on buttoning his waistcoat and didn't look up, not even when Remus stood before him.

"Thank you."

Normally, hearing that husky purr in Remus' voice made Snape want to ravage the source of it, but this time, he remained unmoved, ignoring him until Remus reached out and captured his hands, pulling them away from the row of tiny buttons. Still Snape refused to look at him, even when Remus brought one hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss against the palm.

"Thank you for not wanting me to go, and for letting me go anyway," Remus whispered, nuzzling against Snape's unresponsive hand, and Snape grimaced. How the hell was he supposed to stay furious when Remus did things like that?

"I'm not going to stand in your way. Not now, not ever," Snape informed him curtly, letting his fingers curl against Remus' cheek despite his best intentions.

"I know." He bit lightly on the soft mound of flesh at the base of Snape's thumb, and Snape fought back a gasp. "Are you coming with us?"

"If you like." He shrugged negligently, trying to ignore the tingles spreading from his hand to other parts of his body as Remus nibbled his way along Snape's index finger.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Then I need to finish getting dressed," Snape said, pulling his hand away. "So do you."

He heard Remus give a quiet little sigh before moving to the wardrobe, and they both dressed in silence, the rustle of fabric the only sound in the room. He knew Remus probably thought he was angry with him; he was angry, but not with Remus, and if he were honest, he had to admit, he wasn't so much angry as frustrated. A year apart with only letters to sustain them, and now their reunion was cut short before it had even properly begun, not to mention they were hindered by Black's presence under the same roof.

But there was nothing to be done about it. Their present circumstances were being dictated by factors beyond their control, and as much as he wanted to tell Albus to wait just half a day more, he wouldn't. There was a job to be done.

"Ready?" Remus stood by the door, watching Snape with a closed, wary expression that confirmed Snape's suspicions.

"Not quite yet. There's one thing left to be done before we go."

Before Remus could respond or react, Snape swooped down on him, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. Moaning low in his throat, Remus wound his arms around Snape's neck and arched against him, and Snape reveled in the feel of his partner's slender body pressed against his. Slipping his hands beneath Remus' shirt, he explored the warm, silken skin he found, his fingers curving to fit Remus' waist, sliding them up to mold against the angles of his shoulder blades, tracing each ridge along Remus' spine.

Parting Remus' lips, he deepened the kiss, invading Remus' mouth with his tongue and finding it welcome; Remus sucked it hard, enflaming him, and he broke away, mouthing hungrily at Remus' neck. Tilting his head back to give Snape better access, Remus clung to him, gasping for breath, and his soft little pants only served to fuel the fire raging in Snape's blood. Pushing Remus' legs apart with his knee, he grasped Remus' thighs and lifted him, trapping him between the closed door and Snape's own body.

"Oh, God -- oh, Sev --" Panting became chanted pleas as Snape ground their hips together; Snape could feel Remus' erection rubbing against his through their layers of clothes, and then Remus wrapped his legs around Snape's waist, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and he knew it wouldn't take much to set them both off. They had been starved for too long, and the hunger for each other's touch would consume them in a matter of moments, if they let it.

But Albus was waiting, damn him, and Black too.

With great difficulty and reluctance, Snape lowered Remus to stand on his own two feet again, stepping back and straightening his clothes as he fought to regain his composure. Remus leaned against the door, still breathing hard, hectic color in his cheeks. His eyes were dilated and glittering with desire, and his lips... Snape gave a secret smile. His lips were glistening with kisses.

"I'm not angry with you," Snape told him. "Only the situation."

"You have a... very thorough way of showing it," Remus replied, still sounding dazed.

"At least I don't leave any room for doubt."

"Definitely not." Running a shaking hand through his hair, Remus slanted a wry smile at Snape, then began fixing his disheveled clothes. When they were both presentable again with only the faintest signs of their hasty grope session remaining, he reached out and clasped Snape's hand. "Come on, then. It's back to Hogwarts we go."

*~*~*

Roughly twenty-four hours after he had left the place, Snape was at Hogwarts once again, and what was worse, he wasn't there to do anything, but merely to wait for Remus to return from the Forbidden Forest. Provided he did return, added his treacherous mind, and he squashed that thought viciously.

When he learned that Black would accompany Remus into the forest, he had squawked a protest, demanding to be allowed to go too, but Remus had flattened his palm on Snape's chest just over his heart as if to calm him, and told him quietly but firmly that it was out of the question.

"Madam Pomfrey gave Sirius a dose of a Rabies antidote potion just as she did me, and in that form," he explained, nodding at Black, who had been in canine form since before they left the house, "he isn't in danger from the werewolf. Only humans are at risk. If it's any consolation, Hagrid is staying behind too."

"It's not," Snape had retorted, glaring balefully at Black.

Deep down, however, he was relieved Remus wasn't going alone; that had concerned him more than anything else. Walking into any dangerous situation without back-up was foolhardy, too much so even for a Gryffindor to consider. He didn't like that Remus' back-up was Black rather than himself, but Black was better than no one at all.

And so, he had been relegated to waiting. As soon as Remus and Black left the castle, Snape retreated to his dungeon quarters, his place of solace and solitude. Even though the rooms were even more barren than usual since he had packed up everything of use and importance to take home over the summer, he still felt he could breathe more easily down here. The dungeons of Hogwarts were too cold and creepy to be of interest to anyone who didn't have to be there, and the fact that they were Snape's domain made them even less appealing, which suited Snape just fine.

After lighting a fire, he perused the books he had left on the shelves, skimming over the titles for something that might help him pass the time, but nothing struck his fancy. These were all texts he had read countless times before; he could quote passages from memory. With an annoyed sigh, he cast his mind to the library, trying to remember if there had been any new acquisitions he hadn't had a chance to read yet, or if there was something old he could brush up on, but nothing -- wait.

An idea formed in his mind, and he turned it over, poking at it for logistical flaws, but it still came up sound. It would require research, however, and lots of it. Fortunately, he knew right where to begin, and the book he needed was in the Hogwarts library. It was in the restricted section, of course, but that was hardly a problem for him. Rank had its privileges, and no one could take House points from him for browsing through that area of the library.

Within half an hour, he was settled in his chair by the fire, a steaming cup of tea nearby, and a book that was at least six inches thick cradled on his lap as he pored over its heavy parchment pages. Absorbed as he was, he didn't hear the knock on his door until it had gone on for a while and increased in volume. When it finally seeped onto the edges of his perception, he glanced up and gave the door an irritated scowl as if it were to blame for the interruption, then called a grudging, "Come in!"

Albus stepped into the room, and Snape hastily closed the book and set it aside, moving as if to rise. "Has Remus--?"

"No, I'm sorry, he hasn't returned." Albus waved him into his seat again, casting a questioning look at the chair across from him, and Snape gestured for him to take it. "I imagine it will take them some time to track down the poor creature."

"Yes, you're probably right." Vague memories of lessons regarding manners rose up like ghosts of his childhood. "Would you care for some tea, Headmaster?"

"No, thank you." Albus shook his head and settled more comfortably in the chair, as if he intended to stay a while, and Snape regarded him with an even mixture of suspicion and discomfort. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here, if not to tell you of Remus' return?" he asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"The thought had occurred to me."

"I thought we might have a little chat."

Oh, bloody hell. Not one of those. It never went well for Snape when Albus wanted to have "a little chat" with him, and he had no reason to believe this time would be any different.

"That was quite strong language you used, Severus."

"Do you intend to wash out my mouth with soap, Headmaster?" he retorted, sitting ramrod straight and feeling affronted by the twinkle of amusement he saw in the other man's eyes.

"Twenty years ago, I might have, but you're an adult, and as I understand it, there was a reason for your outburst." Albus' expression shifted from teasing to sympathetic, and Snape scowled, uncertain which he hated worse: being laughed at, or being pitied.

"There usually is, if Black's involved," he said, hoping to deflect that line of conversation, but the Headmaster wasn't to be turned.

"I had forgotten there was a full moon last night," Albus continued. "I thought you and Remus had..." He paused, his fingers smoothing the hem of his sleeve as he seemed to weigh his words carefully. "... celebrated your reunion already."

"Would it really have made a difference if you had known otherwise?" Snape folded his arms, silently daring Albus to keep on trying to soften a blow which could never be softened, and to his credit, the older wizard didn't.

"No, I don't suppose it would have," he replied, dropping his chin so he could fix a steady gaze at Snape over the top of his glasses. "But that doesn't mean I don't regret the necessity of it."

"Cold comfort indeed if he doesn't come back." The words were out of Snape's mouth before he had time to consider stopping them, but he doubted he would have stopped them anyway. For the most part, he held his tongue around Albus Dumbledore out of respect for the man's position and power -- not because of the man himself. Not anymore. Those days were long gone, and if he had once considered it unthinkable to say anything that might sting the venerable wizard... well, things changed.

Albus leaned back in his chair and regarded Snape in silence for a long while, his face unusually shuttered; unwilling to reveal any signs of discomfort under the scrutiny, Snape turned his head and gazed into the fire until Albus broke the uneasy silence at last.

"I have been pondering something, Severus," he said in a conversational tone. "A matter was brought to my attention, and for a time, I thought it best left untouched, but now I see perhaps that would be a mistake. Enough damage has been done, I think, and old wounds need to be healed before new ones are inflicted in the dark days to come."

"If this is some misguided attempt to force me into becoming Sirius Black's new best friend--" Snape snarled, but Albus silenced him with one up-raised hand.

"I believe in miracles, Severus, but I don't expect them," he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, almost obscured by his beard. "No, this has nothing to do with your tenuous relations with Sirius." He leaned his elbows on the chairarms and steepled his fingers. "I've been in intermittent correspondence with Remus over the past year. During one of our exchanges, he indicated I might wish to speak with you regarding what happened in the Shrieking Shack when you were students."

A wave of raw anger rushed over Snape, and he clenched his fists. How dare Remus betray his confidence!

"He told you--?" The words were strangled.

"He told me nothing except that there are issues surrounding that event which I should discuss with you," Albus replied calmly. "He went on to say that you would never approach me about them, so if anything is to be settled, I would have to broach the subject first."

Throwing himself back in his chair, Snape silently fumed, his expression enough to make Neville Longbottom wet himself.

"So." Albus tapped his laced fingers against his chin, blithely ignoring Snape's dire glower. "Would you care to enlighten me, Severus?"

"No," he said coldly. "It's twenty years in the past. Over and done with. There's no sense in dredging all that up again now."

"There is, if something has caused you pain." Albus rose and crossed over to Snape's chair; grasping the younger wizard's shoulders, he coaxed Snape to stand as well, capturing Snape's gaze and refusing to release it. "If there is something still causing you pain."

Anyone else might have melted into putty at the kind words, but Snape knew better than to be lured in. Anger and resentment welled up anew as he thought about how Albus had always favored Black, had gone so far as to let him get away with nearly murdering Snape.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, pivoting abruptly and moving away from the Headmaster to stand close to the fire. "You don't give a damn about my pain, only about whether I'm in fit condition to serve your cause. Black is your golden child to be protected at all costs, and I'm your tool to be used as needed. To pretend otherwise is to insult my intelligence."

Harsh, cruel -- oh, but how good it felt to say those words, to release them into the world at last, a fierce joy made all the sweeter by the pained look on Albus' face.

Albus straightened, fixing Snape with a look of pure blue steel. "Yes, Severus, I make use of you. We're hovering on the brink of war again, and I will use whatever means I have at my disposal to aid in the fight. I will continue to do so until the end of my life or of the war, whichever comes first, and I will not apologize for it. But that does not mean I care nothing for you, or that I see you merely as a tool."

"How can you possibly expect me to believe that?" Snape spun away; he could feel his breathing and heartrate accelerating, and he leaned on the mantle, staring into the dancing flames as he tried to wrestle his emotions under control again. "You showed me what high value," the words were emphasized with a sneer, "you placed on my life when Black sent me off to face Remus in wolf form, and all you did was order me to keep quiet about it. I could have been killed that night, but that didn't matter. No, all that mattered was protecting your perfect Gryffindor. God forbid he should be punished for nearly committing murder." Snape lifted his gaze to meet Albus', his eyes cold and bleak. "After that, do you really expect me to believe you see me as anything more than an expendable tool?"

"Severus..." Albus moved to stand in front of him, reaching out to cup Snape's cheek in his palm, and Snape forced himself not to show weakness by flinching away. "Severus, my dear boy... I thought you understood what I was doing. I wasn't protecting Sirius when I bound you to secrecy. I was protecting Remus."

Snape wanted to pull away from the gentle touch, wanted to avert his gaze from the kindness and affection he saw in the older man's eyes, but somehow he couldn't.

"Surely you know what might have happened to Remus had the Ministry discovered that not only had I allowed a werewolf to become a student at Hogwarts, but that student had harmed -- perhaps killed -- another?"

Oh, yes, he knew: Azkaban or execution. The thought had chilled him just that morning during the altercation with Black.

"Yes, I see that you do." Albus nodded. "What happened was none of Remus' doing. I daresay you know that now?"

"Yes," Snape answered grudgingly.

"I couldn't allow him to be punished when he wasn't to blame, and so I swore all of you to secrecy." He patted Snape's cheek gently, then let his hand drop to Snape's shoulder. "I knew you and Remus had become friends, and I thought perhaps you would work things out. When you didn't, I must confess I assumed you had rejected him out of prejudice against werewolves, which is why I did not straighten out the misunderstanding then and there."

With a weary sigh, he squeezed Snape's shoulder and shook his head. "I regret not realizing how deep the affection between you and Remus truly ran, and I regret not realizing that part of the reason you created so many impenetrable defenses to keep others away afterward is that you were in mourning for the other half of your heart."

Snape said nothing; there was nothing he could say, really, as any denial would sound hollow to both of them. With a little nod that said he was satisfied, Albus returned to his chair and sat down again, the serious light vanishing from his eyes as he regarded Snape, who stood as if paralyzed. It had never occurred to Snape that Albus might have been protecting Remus, and yet now that he knew, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, and he wondered that he hadn't thought of it himself. Except he knew he had let anger and pride blind him to that truth along with many others.

"Rest assured, Severus. Sirius did not go unpunished."

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me how?" Snape made his tone as casual as possible, but there was no mistaking the eager glint in his eyes.

Albus began to explain.

In detail.

By the time Albus finished, Snape had banished all thoughts of flaying Remus alive for dropping hints to the Headmaster and was entertaining thoughts of how many different ways he could make Remus scream with pleasure instead.

*~*~*

Sunlight filtered through the heavy canopy of trees and branches, dappling the forest floor, but it brought Remus neither comfort nor warmth. A pervasive chill from within made his fingers stiff and immobile as he grasped his wand, and sent little tremors along his spine. Once bitten, many werewolves retreated to remote areas, immersing themselves in a semi-feral existence. Thanks to the wide-spread fear of lycanthropes, there was also discord and distrust among the werewolves themselves; they loathed themselves and each other just as much as they were loathed by non-lycanthropes, and they looked with suspicion on anyone who tried to live a normal life. Thus Remus had avoided what most people would consider "his kind", and to encounter another werewolf -- he couldn't bring himself to refer to the lycanthrope as a "beast" or "creature" as he knew others did -- under these circumstances turned his heart cold.

They had been searching the Forbidden Forest for hours, but even with Sirius' canine nose helping, they hadn't been able to locate the sick werewolf. The afternoon was waning, and Remus had no intention of staying in the forest after dark; if they failed to find the werewolf before nightfall, they'd simply have to return to Hogwarts and try again the next day. Severus would be less than pleased by that, he thought with a silent groan. For that matter, he wouldn't be dancing with glee himself, for any number of reasons.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that breakfast -- a quick bite of toast and tea before leaving the castle -- was hours past. They hadn't stopped to eat since beginning their search, partly because Remus wanted it to be over as soon as possible, and partly because Hagrid had packed a lunch for them, and Remus was hesitant about opening the bag and facing whatever was within.

"Let's stop for a bit, shall we?" he suggested as they entered a small clearing, and Sirius immediately flopped down, his tongue lolling out, and a distinctly grateful look on his canine face. "Sorry..." Remus offered an apologetic smile. "I'd hoped to have been done by now."

Sinking down at the base of a thick-trunked oak, Remus arranged himself to sit cross-legged and pulled the bag of food out of the pack he carried, peering into it with trepidation despite his hunger. Fortunately, it appeared the house elves had chosen the food; he found two roast beef sandwiches and a flask of pumpkin juice along with other goodies, no sign of gooey treacle candy or squished cakes anywhere. Discarding the bread from one of the sandwiches, he fed Sirius the roast beef with one hand while he ate his sandwich with the other. They were both too hungry for the food to last, and it wasn't long before the bag was considerably lighter than it had been.

Remus leaned back against the tree trunk, and, with a gusty sigh, Sirius stretched out beside him, resting his head in Remus' lap. A fond smile wreathed his lips as Remus stroked the coarse black fur, but the smile turned into outright laughter when Sirius rolled over with a whine and begged to have his belly scratched.

"I know how you feel," he said, using both hands to scratch until Sirius' back leg began to kick. "It's wonderful to have someone touch you again, isn't it? You don't realize how touch-starved you've become, until someone touches you. Maybe they don't even mean to, maybe they just brush their hand against yours as they pass by, but it's enough to set off the craving. It's enough to make you realize how long it's been since someone has touched you, even in just a casual, friendly way, and how much you want to be touched."

A soft whine brought him out of his reverie, and he wrapped his arms around Sirius, pulling him close, and Sirius draped his solid, heavy body across Remus, leaning against his chest and shoulder. "It's over for both of us, our isolation. No more starving," he said, resting his cheek against Sirius' head and ignoring the gusts of dog breath that wafted up to his nose. "I'm glad you're here with me," he added, and Sirius made a sleepy little noise that sounded like an agreement.

Now that his stomach was full and he was sitting still, the weight of fatigue crept up on Remus, making him drowsy; he had been woken up earlier than he preferred on a post-transformation day, and after spending so many hours traipsing through the woods, his energy was almost depleted. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, he thought even as his heavy-lidded eyes began to shut.

He was awakened to the sound of growling.

Even though he was still in Remus' arms, Sirius was alert, his hackles raised as he stared intently at the underbrush, a low rumble reverberating throughout his body. Remus blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind -- but he was instantly brought to full alertness by the sound of an answering growl that was growing closer.

Scrambling to his feet, Remus pulled out his wand and braced himself for whatever they might encounter. Most of the deadly inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest were nocturnal; the woods were far safer during the day, but there were plenty of dangerous creatures, aside from the rabid werewolf, that roamed the forest in daylight.

The attack came without warning. One minute, there was only distant growling, and the next, a grey form exploded from the shadows, launching itself at Remus, who was the larger target. With a ferocious snarl, Sirius hurled himself at the beast, knocking it aside, and the two bodies locked together, each struggling to fasten its jaws on the other's vulnerable throat. Remus stared at the attacker, horrified.

They hadn't found the werewolf.

It had found them.

Lifting his wand, Remus tried to get a clear shot at the werewolf, but both wolf and dog were too closely intertwined, and they were rolling too much for him to risk it. The werewolf was maddened to a frenzy by the disease it carried, and Remus could tell it had suffered for too long. Its pelt was matted and ragged, its body so thin that he could count its ribs. He couldn't imagine where it got the strength to fight, considering how weak and debilitated it appeared to be. Sirius was strong and healthy, but the werewolf was fueled by madness, and it would continue to fight until it was disabled or dead.

Trying not to take his eyes off the raging tussle, Remus groped around until his fingers closed on a thick tree branch, and he darted forward, close enough to strike the werewolf, hoping to distract it.

"Oi! Leave off him!"

Snarling, the werewolf broke off its attempt to tear out Sirius' throat and turned its head to look at Remus, its eyes glittering with a feverish light. There was no spark of humanity in those glowing eyes, nothing that showed it was anything more than a beast filled with a killing rage that was now directed at Remus. Sickly white foam dripped from its mouth as it bared sharp, yellow teeth. Its body tensed, preparing to spring --

"Avada Kedavra!"

The only sound was a solid thump as the werewolf's body hit the ground.

Sirius collapsed, panting. Remus stood paralyzed, still holding up his wand in a white-knuckled grip. He stared at the body, his eyes wide and round, unable to look away as the wolf form began to writhe as if with new life, morphing into a shrivelled, emaciated male form.

A human form.

A middle-aged man with blond hair going grey, and blue eyes that were glassy in death.

The enormity of what he'd done crashed down on him, sending Remus to his knees there on the forest floor. He hadn't even thought twice about using the Curse. Sirius had been in danger, he had been in danger, and the werewolf was too far gone to be cured. Although Albus hadn't said it in so many words, the unspoken understanding was that he had sent Remus into the woods to kill the werewolf, not subdue it and bring it back. He'd had no choice.

But he had killed the werewolf without thought or hesitation regarding its humanity. All his life, he had resented people who disregarded his own humanity, yet he had treated this werewolf... this being just like himself... like an animal.

Bile rose in his throat, and his stomach lurched, emptying its contents.

He was marginally aware of strong hands on his shoulders, supporting him as he continued until there was nothing left, and he could do nothing but dry-heave. Finally, even that stopped, but he was still shaking, violent tremors wracking his body.

"Shh... Remus, you did what you had to do. The poor thing was half-dead already. You put it out of its misery. It's all right..."

It wasn't all right. How could it be? He had treated the werewolf with thoughtless dehumanization. He had put it out of its misery -- wasn't that what they did to animals that grew too old or too sick? He was no better than the most prejudiced among the Wizard community.

Sirius guided him away from the corpse, turning his back to it so he could no longer see it, but the memory couldn't be erased or ignored so easily. Tears stung his eyes, and he didn't have the strength to stop them; instead, he clung to Sirius as a tide of grief washed over him.

Remus rarely ever wept, and he had wept like this only one other time in his life: on the day he had finally gotten Severus alone after the Shrieking Shack incident. He had cornered Sev after class, forcing him into a confrontation, but Severus had cut him off before he had a chance to explain that he hadn't known about Sirius' plan, that if he'd had any idea of what Sirius intended, he would have warned Severus somehow.

"You're a lying bastard, Lupin." Severus' eyes had been flinty, utterly devoid of emotion or mercy. "You disgust me." With that, he had shoved Remus out of his way and walked out, never once looking back.

Somehow, Remus had made it back to the Gryffindor tower without collapsing, but as soon as he was alone, he had crawled under the blankets of his bed and stayed there. His tears ebbed and flowed; when they stopped, he lay silently, curled up in a tight little ball, unaware of how much time passed before the wracking sobs began all over again, his eyes burning, his chest crushed under a great weight.

The cycle went on for hours. At some point, James appeared, and he slid under the sheets and gathered Remus in his arms, cradling him and whispering things that didn't penetrate the haze of disbelief and pain clouding his mind. But James' mere presence had been comforting, a warm, living lifeline he could cling to during the worst of the grief.

Once more, Remus wept from the depths of his soul, only this time, it wasn't James who held him close and murmured soothing noises. It was Sirius, and Remus curled up in his arms, trembling, until the last of the tears was shed and beyond.

*~*~*

The return to Hogwarts seemed like an underwater dream. Remus allowed Sirius to guide and support him along the way, barely registering the passage of time until they reached the castle and Albus and Severus came out to meet them.

"Are you both all right?" Albus asked immediately. After one look at Remus' bloodless face and red-rimmed eyes, Albus was by his side, but Severus stopped a few paces away, watching and saying nothing. "Did you find the werewolf?"

"Yes, we found it--" Sirius glanced down at Remus with a half-sheepish, half-apologetic expression. "Found him. He attacked us, but Remus..." Another glance. "It's over now."

"Perhaps you could let Hagrid know where you left the body," Albus suggested gently. "He'll see to its interment."

The conversation washed over Remus; he heard the words but barely processed their meaning. He was tired... so tired... and he wanted to hide away from everything. He lifted his gaze for the first time and met Severus' eyes. To anyone else, Severus might have looked closed off and remote, standing at a distance as he was, with his arms folded, but Remus was too weary and heartsick to pay attention to the outward signs. All he saw was the one person who could give him the refuge he craved.

"I want to go home," he said, not taking his eyes off Severus as he spoke.

"Perhaps Madame Pomfrey should--" Albus began, but Sirius shook his head.

"He wasn't hurt," he assured them. "The werewolf didn't get near him. He just needs some rest."

"I'll give him a sleeping draught," Severus said as he closed the distance between himself and Remus, and reached out to draw Remus to his side.

Remus wrapped both arms around Severus and, closing his eyes, leaned on his shoulder. "I want to go home," he whispered again, sighing when he felt the weight of Severus' arm across his back.

"We're leaving now." Severus' tone informed everyone present of the finality of that pronouncement.

There were a few moments of silence, and then Sirius spoke. "I've a few scratches I'd like Madame Pomfrey to look at. Nothing serious, but it probably wouldn't hurt to have her check them, and then I could help Hagrid." He paused, then added, "I'll be along late tomorrow afternoon."

Remus felt a gentle touch on his cheek, and he opened his eyes to find Sirius regarding him with an affectionate smile.

"No more starving, eh?" he asked softly, and mustering a tiny answering smile, Remus shook his head.

Within half an hour, he was home and in bed. Pulling the covers over and around himself, he burrowed out of sight and surrendered to the potion Severus had given him, slipping into deep, healing, and mercifully dreamless sleep that lasted throughout the night.

It was early when Remus woke and peeked out of his cocoon, pushing back the blankets with reluctance. The light streaming through the windows was still pale, attesting to how young the day was, but the other side of the bed was empty. Funny, Severus had never seemed like a morning person, but he was nowhere in sight, and he had been there at some point, since the pillow on his side of the bed showed a clear indentation.

Still feeling a little sluggish from the effects of the sleeping potion, Remus yawned his way to the wardrobe and pulled out his dressing-gown. It was the dark green one which he considered his now, even if he did let Sev borrow it occasionally, and he slung it over his arm as he headed for the bathroom.

He felt much better and more alert when he emerged, although a little shaky from hunger, which wasn't surprising, since the last meal he'd kept down had been breakfast the previous day. Still, he didn't go straight to the kitchen, wanting to find Severus first. A quick look in the workroom showed it was empty. He tried the parlor next, and that was where he found Severus, fully dressed and sitting by the fire, reading an enormous book. Morgause was curled up on a pillow near the hearth; she lifted her head and blinked sleepily at him, then tucked her nose between her paws and dozed off again.

"Good morning," he said, feeling a little awkward and shy as he loitered in the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation.

As soon as he glanced up and saw Remus, Severus closed the book and put it aside, rising to his feet. "Have you eaten?" When Remus shook his head, he frowned slightly. "You should."

He summoned Nibley, and within a matter of moments, Remus found himself sitting opposite Severus, a tray that was overflowing with food perched in his lap. "I can't possibly eat all this," he protested, overwhelmed by the array of choices. Sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, hard boiled eggs, fried eggs, toast, and fruit along with hot tea... it was simply too much for one person to eat, but with Severus glaring at him as if leaving so much as a single crumb would be a personal affront, he felt obliged to try.

"Eat as much as you can. You need to regain your strength after yesterday."

At the mention of the previous day, Remus' appetite fled, and he pushed the scrambled eggs around his plate dulsitorily with his fork. Leaning back in his chair, Severus scrutinized him with a piercing gaze.

"What happened?"

"I killed the werewolf." Remus' voice was flat and dull, and he didn't look up.

"I surmised as much." An annoyed tone, but the usual acidic edge was blunted. "What I meant was, what happened to upset you so deeply?"

He darted a startled glance at Severus, then dropped his gaze back to his plate. "I..." He drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You have to understand... I've lived with this condition since I was very young. I barely remember not being a lycanthrope. All my life, I've known why people fear me here," he tapped his temple, "but I've never fully understood it here." He tapped his chest. "I don't remember much about the attack. I was so young, and it happened so fast, but yesterday..." He drew in a shuddery breath. "Yesterday, I saw the beast, the same one that lives inside me."

Anyone else might have begun offering glib assurances, trying to comfort, trying to make Remus feel better. But Severus simply continued to watch him with hooded eyes, regarding Remus very much as he might have regarded a fascinating new potion.

"What did you see under the influence of the Morpheus curse?"

Of all the things Remus thought Severus might say when he spoke at last, that question was nowhere on the list, and he stared blankly at him, wondering if he had heard correctly.

"The Morpheus Curse," Severus repeated in the same tone he probably used when speaking to a particularly dense student. "What did you see?"

"I was in a forest," Remus answered, his forehead scrunched with puzzlement as he tried to figure out what the curse had to do with anything. "There was a full moon, but I was human. I tried to find my way out of the forest, but I couldn't, and then I started hearing sounds behind me." He shivered at the memory. Even now, months later, it still seemed so vivid and so real. "I was attacked by wolves, only they didn't try to kill me right away. They just... they just tore at me, bit by bit."

Severus nodded. "And so yesterday, you confronted your greatest fear in the flesh: losing your humanity to the beast."

"Yes..." he whispered, acknowledging the truth of it. "I saw what I am inside, and I understand why people are afraid now. They should be afraid."

"You did not see what you are," Severus countered sharply, scowling at Remus as if daring him to argue. "You saw the unfortunate results of illness and madness."

"Then why do I feel like I killed myself?"

"Because you faced the beast outside of yourself for the first time." He leaned forward slightly, as if to emphasize his words through body language. "As you said, this is the first time you have had to confront the beast, and to see what others see, but it was a distorted image. You will never end up like that creature."

"I understand now why you were so terrified two nights ago," Remus told him softly. "I could smell your fear, and it hurt, because I thought you should have known I'd never harm you. I didn't realize just how horrific what you saw in the Shrieking Shack was."

"Yes, I was afraid, even though I knew you had taken the wolfbane potion," Severus nodded, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. "The beast is terrifying, but you have spent your life trying to hold onto your humanity, and you have succeeded. The only time the beast controls you is during the full moon, and as long as I live, you will have the means to control it even then." He reached for his book then, and waved at the tray in Remus' lap. "Now eat your breakfast before it gets completely cold."

Remus glanced down and picked up his fork again, his appetite slowly returning. He had a lot to think about and sort through, but as blunt as Severus had been, his words had also been oddly reassuring, especially since Remus was now fully aware that Severus had had to confront an old, deep-rooted fear in order to accept Remus even in his wolf form. Yet he had done it.

That made Remus feel better, but there was still much he needed to confront and settle within himself. For one thing, he had to come to terms with the fact that not only had he killed, but that he would do it again if necessary. Like it or not, there was a hardness, a ruthlessness in him that gave him the strength to protect what -- and who -- belonged to him. Perhaps it was an extension of the beast, or perhaps it was something innate, but it was there, and he had to accept it. He would have killed to protect both Sirius and himself yesterday, no matter what foe they had encountered, werewolf or not.

He peeked at Severus from beneath his lashes, a hard knot of determination forming in his chest. Severus, Sirius, Harry, Albus -- they were his, and he would kill for them. He would die for them. If that made him some sort of monster, then so be it. No one could threaten or take what was his without a fight.

A tiny smile quirked one corner of his mouth. How surprised people would be if they knew his thoughts. People seemed to categorize him as the calm one, the gentle one. But he was neither a saint nor a buddha, and even if he hadn't possessed a more literal beast within than most people, he believed the ruthlessness he had displayed the previous day would still be strong.

We all have our dark side, he thought. This is mine to deal with... but not today.

He remembered Sirius saying he wouldn't return until late in the day, a tactful gesture for which Remus would have to thank him profusely later. While he and Severus would have some precious time alone, it would be limited, and Remus wanted to make the most of it, to shut out the rest of the world for a time and concentrate on his mate.

When he couldn't swallow another mouthful of food, he put the tray aside and looked expectantly at Severus, who was still reading. Surely he didn't plan to read all day, did he?

As if feeling the weight of Remus' gaze, Severus glanced up, then shut the book and set it aside again before rising gracefully to his feet and moving near Remus' chair.

"Stand up," he ordered, gesturing impatiently, and Remus arched a questioning eyebrow. Was this some sort of bid for dominance? If so, they'd need to have a little discussion, since Remus had no intention of playing domination/submission games. When he didn't move, Severus gave an exasperated sigh and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a pocket-knife, unfolded the blade and held it out handle-first to Remus. "Here. Take this."

Instead of clearing the matter up, that only added to the mystery, but Remus took the knife, on the verge of blurting out a stream of questions -- until Severus began unbuttoning the high collar of his jacket. After unfastening the first three buttons, he unfastened his shirt collar as well, pushing both aside so that his throat was laid bare.

"Make it permanent," he said, almost casually, and Remus felt the knife in danger of slipping from his nerveless fingers.

"You... you're not serious." Remus stood up at last, wide-eyed, not quite believing what was happening.

"Of course, I'm bloody well serious," Severus snapped. "I've had nearly a year to think about it, and I know what I want. Make the damned claim marker permanent."

As expressions of devotion went, it was lacking in both sentimentality and affection, but it got the message across well enough.

Stepping closer, he closed the distance between himself and Severus... his mate... soon to be marked as his until death separated them.

"You realize this one won't fade?" he asked, wanting to make certain Severus knew exactly what he was getting into. "It'll be imprinted on your skin until one of us dies, and I'm the only one who can remove it while we live. Once it's been cast, you'll be permanently marked as mine."

"Yes, I know all that," was the impatient reply. "I did research, if you'll recall." Severus' expression didn't soften, but his eyes held a warmth that set off little explosions in Remus' stomach. "And I already am yours, so we may as well make it official."

Remus hadn't thought it possible for him to fall any harder than he already had, but apparently, it was.

Transferring the knife to his left hand, he pricked his right forefinger with the point of it, hard enough to draw blood, then set it aside. Severus grasped his collars, holding them out of the way to give Remus all the room he needed. Leaning forward, Remus pressed a brief, chaste kiss against Severus' neck, the warm, musky scent of his skin filling Remus's nose. Then he leaned back again and lifted his finger, touching it to the same place he had just kissed.

He let his finger rest there for a moment, glancing up to catch Severus' eye, looking for any sign of hesitation. It wasn't too late to stop. Sev could still change his mind.

But there was nothing in his face or eyes that spoke of apprehension, and, a moment later, Remus felt Severus' hand come to rest on the small of his back, fingers splayed, a slight amount of pressure urging him to continue.

With the thin trickle of blood flowing down his finger, Remus began to draw. It was the same pattern he had drawn with his tongue all those months before, only a little larger thanks to the wider smear of blood. As it grew nearer to completion, a subtle trail of golden sparks shimmered faintly amid the drying fluid, and Severus gave a startled hiss. Remus stopped, glancing at him with concern, but he shook his head.

"There's a slight burn. Nothing painful," he said.

Nodding, Remus turned back to his work and drew the last two lines that would complete the pattern; when it was done, there was a brief flare of golden light that seemed to be absorbed into Severus' skin, and the instant it disappeared, Severus jerked and touched his fingers to the spot.

"It's finished." It wasn't a question, but Remus nodded anyway.

"Yes, it's finished."

He gazed up at Severus, feeling as if he were looking at a different person, even though he knew he wasn't. Yet in some ways, he was. Severus bore his mark now, by choice, and knowing that -- knowing that Severus wanted *him* enough to make that choice -- removed whatever vestiges of insecurity Remus had harbored about their relationship.

"But we're just beginning." He reached out and clasped Severus' hand, squeezing it gently and giving it a little tug. "To bed, my mate."

Considering how long their mutual desire had been simmering, Remus wouldn't have been surprised if Severus had grabbed him and hauled him down the corridor to the bedroom where they could rip each other's clothes off in a frenzy of lust. Instead, Severus twined their fingers and set off at a leisurely pace, keeping Remus close by his side as they made their way upstairs to the bedroom. They didn't speak, but really, Remus thought, what was there left to say in words?

As soon as they reached their bedroom and the door was shut behind them, Severus framed Remus' face with his hands and bent his head just enough to brush a kiss across Remus' lips, giving him the barest taste before retreating, then returning for another kiss. This time, he coaxed Remus' lips apart just enough to nip lightly at the full lower lip. He set a pattern of retreat-and-return, each new kiss longer and deeper than the one before, and all the while, his thumbs gently stroked Remus' cheeks.

Resting his hands lightly at Severus' waist, Remus leaned forward but didn't press against Sev, not wanting to break the exploratory mood. As much as hot, pounding sex would have satisfied the burning need which had long been thwarted, he liked the idea of not rushing, of taking time to savor and enjoy the newness. Following Severus' lead, he let one kiss flow into another, losing all sense of time as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the moment, on his mate: the scent of mint rising from his clothes with a warmer, richer scent underlying it, the scent of Severus himself; the silky feel of those thin, pliant lips claiming his own; the soft sounds of their endless kisses.

And then a push of tongue past his yielding lips added the taste of chai to the mix; sucking in a ragged breath as he felt Severus' tongue slide across his own, Remus tightened his grip at Sev's waist, fingers biting into the fabric of his jacket. While he devoured Remus' mouth, Severus slid his hands down to the sash holding Remus' dressing-gown closed, untied the knot and slipped his hands beneath the folds of the dressing-gown, then slid them back up. There he stopped, letting his hands rest in the curve where neck met shoulder, caressing Remus' collarbones with his thumbs.

A low moan built in Remus' throat at the feel of Severus pushing the garment off his shoulders and down his arms; obediant to the unspoken demand, he lowered his hands to his sides so it could fall to the floor, a silken puddle at his feet. Only then did he feel a twinge of apprehension, when Severus pulled back and glanced down at his bare shoulders -- specifically, the right one, which was latticed with old scars.

Severus didn't ask if that was where Remus had been bitten as a child; the answer was obvious. Instead, he lowered his head and trailed his lips along the pattern of scar tissue, tracing it with his tongue. The damage had been too extensive for Remus to feel the brush of Severus' mouth there, but he didn't need to. That he was doing it at all made Remus' throat close up, and he curled his hand around the back of Severus' neck, not quite holding him in place, wanting to speak.

Stop it, damn you, stop doing things like this. I can't keep on falling more and more in love with you for doing things like this.

But in the end, he simply pressed a kiss to Severus' temple and said nothing.

Splaying both hands across Remus' back, Severus pulled him closer, and Remus curved his arms around Sev's neck, find the rub of fabric against his bare chest strangely erotic. But bare skin on bare skin would be even more erotic, and Severus was quite overdressed. Sliding his hands to the base of Severus' throat, he reached for the top jacket buttons, then glanced down, suddenly realizing just how damned many buttons were on the thing.

"Is this some kind of defence mechanism, or are you just fond of buttons?" he asked, earning a snort in response. "It's going to take forever to unwrap my present," he added, mock-pouting. "I should get some sort of reward."

"Such as?"

"How about..." He tipped his chin back and gave Sev his most persuasive, charming smile. "You give me a kiss, one for each button."

One black eyebrow arched. "Bribery?"

"I prefer to call it a fair exchange of pleasantries," Remus replied, already fingering the first button.

"Mm. Yes, I suppose so." But the slight flex of long, slender fingers on Remus' back, holding him firmly in place, belied Severus' insoucient tone.

Remus popped the button free and looked up at Severus, presenting his lips to be kissed -- but naturally, his contrary lover didn't do what was expected. Instead, he kissed Remus' forehead; not a dry peck, however, but a lingering caress of lips.

It was an unexpected twist in the game, but one that Remus liked, and he couldn't suppress a pleased smile as he turned his attention to the second button. More buttons and more kisses followed. Severus mapped every inch of his face at an agonizingly slow pace. By the time the last button was unfastened and Severus' jacket fell open, Remus was practically vibrating with anticipation that he would -- at last! -- let their mouths meet again. A delicate touch of the tip of Severus' tongue to the corner of his mouth, the careful catch of his lower lip between teeth, the tracing of his upper lip with a sweep of tongue... Remus curled his fingers in the fabric of Sev's jacket, his body subtly arching in a silent plea as he fought the urge to end the teasing himself.

And then Severus' mouth was sealed over his, possessive and demanding, drawing his tongue in deep, and Remus couldn't silence the whimpers escaping him as he gave himself over to the kiss. With impatient tugs and pushes, he removed Severus' jacket and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed, and he set to work on the white shirt beneath, which thankfully didn't have quite so many buttons. Even so, he had to force himself not to simply yank hard and send the buttons flying everywhere just to be done with the task. A demanding growl rose in his throat as he helped Severus out of the shirt, but his intended pounce on the newly bared flesh was aborted when he caught the quick, subtle movement of Severus' left arm.

It was as if Sev instinctively meant to hide something from view, then stopped himself, but Remus noticed and clasped Severus' wrist. He felt momentary resistance, and then Severus allowed him to stretch his arm out full-length -- and Remus saw the reason for that furtive attempt to hide.

The Dark Mark.

Remus stared at it, ice forming in the pit of his stomach. He'd seen it before, shimmering in the night sky to illuminate the location of some new tragedy wrought by Voldemort and his minions. He knew what the mark on Severus' arm meant as well. Severus' confession regarding his past was suddenly, vividly real.

Severus had been a Death Eater.

Technically, he still was one, would be as long as he bore this mark.

"Well." Remus mustered a shaky laugh. "You're just covered in claim markers, aren't you."

Severus' expression was guarded and wary, but he remained silent.

"At least mine isn't visible to everyone," he continued, feeling his equilibrium returning as he remembered the choices Sev had made. "And it's far less tacky a design." He smoothed his fingertips along the length of Severus' inner arm; the skin felt the same all the way down, with no discernable difference where the Dark Mark marred it.

Poor love, he thought. We're second-chancers, both of us. We belong together.

He bent his head and nuzzled Severus' arm with his cheek, then pressed a gentle kiss in the very center of the Mark. Sev had defied both fear and prejudice to accept Remus as he was. Remus could do no less for him in return.

He lifted his head, expecting to resume their leisurely exploration of one another as they undressed, only to find himself being picked up and carried the short distance to the bed; he didn't even have time to release a startled yelp when he was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed, didn't have time to bounce before Severus was on top of him, covering him, kissing him with frantic need. Tangling his fingers in Severus' hair, he clutched Sev's head, anchoring him in place, moaning when Sev plunged his tongue into his mouth.

The fabric of Severus' trousers felt rough against his bare legs as he wound them around Sev's waist, trying to ease the ache of arousal through contact, but he was thwarted by the layers of clothes still separating them. With great reluctance, he stopped greedily sucking his mate's tongue and pulled away from the kiss; Severus stared down at him, panting, his dark eyes glittering in a way that made Remus's desire spike even higher.

"We need to be naked now," he whispered, his voice even huskier than usual.

Instead of replying, Severus rolled off him and, securing his fingers in the waistband of Remus' underpants, began yanking them down his body. The boxers were flung over the side of the bed, and Remus suddenly found himself flat on his back with Severus between his legs, feasting on his inner thigh like a starving man at a banquet.

"I said we need to get naked," Remus gasped, clinging to the last strands of his coherency as Severus fastened his mouth on the tender patch of skin at the joining of hip and thigh and began to suck hard enough to leave a mark.

But Severus continued his focused exploration of Remus' body, moving his way up at a maddening pace; he nuzzled the soft thatch of crinkly hair covering Remus' abdomen, breathing in deeply as if drawing in his lover's scent. He delved into Remus' navel, the rhythmic flicks of his tongue in and out mimicking what Remus wanted him to do with other parts of his body. Undecided between wanting to tear off the rest of Severus' clothes and not wanting to make Severus stop what he was doing, Remus clutched his mate's shoulders and arched up to meet that questing mouth. Then a warm, wet tongue dragged across his nipple, and he cried out, his fingers digging into Severus' flesh.

"Please, love..." He slid his hands down, reaching for the fastenings of Severus' trousers. "I need to feel you, your skin, your heat..."

Finally, Severus relented, moving to sit on the edge of the bed so he could remove his shoes and socks; Remus sat up and wrapped both arms around his waist, skimming his palms up and down Sev's chest, lightly teasing his nipples as he mouthed kisses along the side of Sev's neck. Pulling away from Remus' embrace, Severus stood up to remove his trousers, but Remus batted his hands away, kneeling on the mattress and leaning forward to brush a kiss against Sev's lips as he began unfastening the trousers himself, sliding his hands beneath the folds of fabric to caress the skin beneath as he pushed them down. A moment later, both trousers and underpants were discarded, and Severus wasted no time rolling Remus beneath him again, making Remus gasp at the shock of bare skin against his own.

"Oh, God, this feels so good," Remus groaned, tangling their legs and pressing every inch of flesh he could against his lover. There was no response from Sev -- not so much as a grunt of acknowledgment -- as he alternately laved and bit Remus' hardened nipples, and even amid his mounting arousal, Remus couldn't help chuckling softly. "I know you said you weren't the talkative type, but are you never going to say anything?"

Severus lifted his head and fixing Remus with a level stare, dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that sent an anticipatory shiver through him.

"I want to make you scream."

Remus swallowed hard.

Well.

If Severus were indeed hoarding his words, those were good ones to dole out.

"All right," Remus said dazedly, and Severus gave one of those almost-smiles before swiping his tongue along the length of Remus' throat in one long, slow lick.

And then Sev was moving away from him again. He started to whimper a protest until he felt gentle hands on his shoulders, turning him, and he obeyed without question, burying his head in his arms as he waited for whatever was to happen next.

He didn't have long to wait. A moment later, he felt Severus' lips tracing the length of his spine, accompanied by darting little tastes along the way down. The fine, downy hairs at the base of his spine seemed super-charged with sensitivity, and shivers of pleasure rippled through him as Sev traced delicate circles and figure-eights there with the tip of his tongue.

Hands pushed a pillow beneath his hips and parted his legs, a warm body settled between them, fingers massaged his perineum with a firm, deft touch. Remus groaned and fought to keep from thrusting against the pillow, but it was a losing battle. Severus had to grasp his hips and hold them still when the stroking fingers were replaced by an equally firm and deliciously wet tongue that swept down to his sac and all the way up to the tight pucker of muscle waiting above for its share of attention. That tongue stroked and caressed and thrust teasingly inside him until he had spread his legs as far as he could, until he was aching -- leaking -- with need, until he felt so open, so ready that he was squirming with anticipation.

Then it was gone, and he felt the whisper of breath against his ear.

"Remy." That melted butter voice whispered his name, and Remus felt in danger of coming just from the sound of it. "I want you. Now."

He said yes. Of course he did. How could he refuse that voice anything?

"Yes -- please, love -- take me -- do it now -- I need you--" he begged, his own voice broken and ragged.

He heard the scrape of a drawer being opened, heard the faint chime of glass against glass -- and the weight and warmth of Sev's body was back, covering him, and he felt a hot, hard nudge of flesh against his opening. Moaning, he lifted his hips, inviting the intrusion, his moans growing louder when Severus pushed the slick head of his shaft past the tight ring of muscle.

"More..." he whispered, closing his eyes and focusing on the exquisite sensation of his lover slowly entering him. "Need you, need to be filled with you..."

Twin groans filled the room when Severus slid in completely, buried within Remus' tight, welcoming body. Remus felt himself being stretched, but whatever discomfort that caused was lost in the pleasure of having his mate joined with him at last. Severus groped for his left hand, and when he found it, he laced his fingers with Remus', squeezing it tight as he began to thrust. It was obvious he intended to go slowly at first, but Remus was beyond the need for that; he wanted fast, he wanted hard, he wanted now.

"Please," he gasped, giving Sev's slender fingers an answering squeeze. "Don't hold back, I don't want you to hold back, just take me now!"

Apparently that was all the encouragement his mate needed, because the thrusts sped up; Severus began pumping harder, slamming into him, each fierce, possessive thrust striking Remus' prostate and sending him ever closer to the edge. Remus gave himself over to the pounding rhythm, blood singing in his ears, aware not only of the intense pleasure of their joining, but also that this was his mate claiming him. His mate. After so many years apart, they were together, and this was real, not just another dream, this really was his mate, his Severus inside him, touching him, taking him--

"Come for me, Remy. I want you to come for me now." Black velvet words caressing his ear as Sev released his hand, pushing his own between Remus' body and the pillow. The angle was awkward, but Remus was too close for it to matter; the feel of his mate's fingers wrapped around him was almost enough by itself, and when the fingers began moving despite the confined space...

Pleasure more intense than anything Remus had ever imagined spiraled to a breaking point and shattered, wringing a hoarse cry from him, not quite a scream but close enough. Shockwaves reverberated throughout his body as he collapsed, prolonged by his mate's release a few moments later. He barely had enough energy to mewl a protest when Severus eased out and rolled off him, but the disappointment at the separation was soothed when Severus stretched out beside him, nestled close, one arm flung across his back.

Turning his head so he could see him, Remus cracked his eyes open and gave Sev a drowsy smile. "That was... indescribably wonderful."

Brushing a stray lock of hair out of Remus' face, Severus regarded him somberly. "It's never been like that before."

"Like what?"

"Emotionally satisfying."

Shoving the pillow beneath his hips out of the way, Remus rolled onto his side and stared at Severus, a thousand words crowding his mind for possible responses to that; in the end, he settled on something simple, but heartfelt.

"God, I love you."

Rolling onto his side as well, Severus gathered Remus in his arms and kissed the top of his head. With a sigh of sheer blissful contentment, Remus draped his arm across Sev's waist and nestled close. The dull ache he had carried in his heart for the past twenty years had finally faded, and he felt as if something had clicked into place in his soul. No matter what happened in the world outside their private sanctum, everything would be all right now that they were together.

This was where he belonged.

This was where he wanted to be.

Forever.

*~*~*

"What time is it?" Remus yawned as he leaned against Severus, who was reclining against two fat pillows with Remus settled between his legs and using his torso as a back rest.

"I don't know." Severus wrapped both arms around Remus' waist and bent his head to nuzzle the ear that was within easy reach. "I don't care."

"Sirius could be back at any time." Despite this warning, Remus hummed with pleasure and tilted his head to one side so Sev could reach his ear more easily rather than leaping out of bed to put on some clothes and present a show of decorum.

"Thank you for utterly ruining the pleasant mood with the mention of Sirius Black," Sev grumbled, and Remus laughed softly, covering Severus' hands with his own and lacing their fingers together. "Besides, he said he wouldn't bother us until late afternoon. We've still got time."

"Well, whenever he shows up, I'm not planning to let Sirius' presence inhibit me," he assured his mate. "You shouldn't either."

"Easy for you to say. Black won't be mocking you every time I leave the room."

"No..." Remus went still in Severus' arms as he remembered something Sirius had said to him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he hedged. "I was just... I remembered an unflattering comment Sirius made, that's all. Not about you," he added quickly, not wanting to fan the flames of their mutual antipathy. "About me."

"What exactly did he say?" Severus' voice was tight, and Remus groaned silently. Protective already. He should have known. He was too, after all, so he shouldn't have been surprised that it went both ways.

"He was upset about our relationship, and he said some things I'm sure he didn't mean."

A derisive snort made it clear what Severus thought of that.

"It was just a disparaging comment about me being a housekeeper, but in a way, he had a valid point." Remus turned enough that he could fix Severus with an unusually somber expression. "You've been extremely generous over the past few months, and I know you said it's because you wanted to be, but I don't want to be a leech."

He took a breath, almost expecting Severus to interrupt with assurances and protestations, but he simply listened.

"I don't want to live off your generosity, Sev. If this is to be our home, then I want to contribute somehow, too."

"What did you have in mind?"

For a moment, he was startled that Severus had acquiesced so easily, but then again, he knew he shouldn't have been. Considering his own experiences, Severus Snape was one of the people least likely to bind someone against their will. What had he expected? That Severus would demand he remain at home, cooking and cleaning, ready to fetch a pipe and slippers? After all, keeping him barefoot and pregnant was hardly an option, he thought with a self-deprecating chuckle. Well, keeping him pregnant, anyway. He was often barefoot of his own volition.

"I thought perhaps I could look for a job in Whetby," he said. "That way, I could deposit my wages in your bank account and help pay for things."

"Our."

"What?"

"Our bank account. Your name is on it, too." Gentle fingers sifted through Remus' hair, massaging his scalp, and Remus relaxed again, closing his eyes and enjoying his lover's caresses. "Keep your nose out of my potions, but otherwise, consider this house and everything in it as ours."

"I still want to help pay the bills," he insisted stubbornly.

"Then get a job tomorrow, if you like." A touch of the usual irritation crept into Severus' tone. "Remus, I don't care what you do as long as it's not something foolish that brings you to the Death Eaters' attention and gets you killed. I want you to be happy."

"But what do you want?"

"You."

Remus twisted around to look at him. "That's all?"

"That's enough."

He managed to hold a completely straight face while he moved to straddle Severus' thighs. "You realize I'm going to have to shag you senseless for saying that, don't you?"

"If you must." But Sev's hands were already on Remus' hips, squeezing gently before sliding up to roam his back.

Remus brushed a kiss against Sev's lips. "I believe I must."

He trailed his fingertips down Severus' chest, a small, mischievous smile quirking his lips at the hitch in Sev's breathing as he skimmed over the flat nipples. Ducking his head, he nipped at Sev's ear and mouthed warm, damp kisses along his neck; all the while, he teased the hardened nubs, first flicking them with his thumbs, then rolling them between his fingers with just enough pressure to make Sev gasp and arch into his caress.

Their mouths met, hot and hungry, and Remus fumbled on the table for the flask of oil, already wanting -- needing -- his mate again. As soon as he had prepared Severus, he found himself being flipped onto his back, and Severus entered him with one long, smooth stroke; moaning, Remus wrapped his legs around Sev's waist, fisting his hands in the thoroughly rumpled sheets as Severus pulled almost all the way out, then plunged deep again. Over and over, he pulled out and thrust in at the same maddeningly slow pace until Remus was writhing and desperate, hovering on the shining edge of orgasm but unable to fall.

"Faster," Remus growled, his fingers digging into Severus' shoulders. "Now."

"And if I don't?" It wasn't quite accompanied by a smirk, but it was close enough.

With a fierce snarl, Remus unwrapped his legs and tightened his grip, rolling them both over until Severus was trapped beneath him. Closing his hand around Sev's wrist, he held one arm down on the mattress; the other hand was also captured, but instead of pinning it as well, he wrapped it around his leaking erection and closed his own hand over it. Their gazes locked, smoldering, practically setting fire to the air, and Remus felt Sev's fingers tighten marginally.

They began stroking together, faster and faster. Remus threw his head back and began rocking his hips in sync to meet each downward stroke, intense arousal spiraling tighter until he was moaning his mate's name, a plea, a litany -- and then the tension snapped, and he howled his pleasure to the stone walls.

Panting, he released Severus' hands and braced himself over Severus' body, trying to catch his breath as little tremors shook him. Finally, the passion-haze cleared and, with a smile and a kiss on the end of Sev's nose, he eased off and away from his mate and made as if to leave their bed.

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?" Severus demanded, sitting bolt upright and glaring at him.

"To clean up." Remus gave him a disingenuous look, all but batting his lashes in an attempt to look sweet and innocent.

"I think not." It was Sev's turn to growl, and, snaking one long, thin arm out, he grabbed Remus around the waist and hauled him back.

Laughing, Remus tumbled into bed again, tangling his arms and legs around his mate. "You didn't really think I'd leave you..." He glanced down between their bodies and grinned. "Unattended?"

"Not really, no."

"Good." He nuzzled his mate's nose and lips. "How do you want me?" he asked softly.

"On your knees, holding onto the headboard."

As soon as Remus complied with this request, he felt Severus pressed against his back, felt Severus' arms around him, felt Severus buried inside him again, thrusting, slowly at first but with a quickening tempo.

"Let go," he murmured soothingly, tightening his grip on the thick wood headboard and bracing his entire body so that his mate didn't have to worry about balance or support or anything except his own pleasure. "Let go in me..."

"My Remy..." The words were a whisper of hot breath, which he seemed to feel against his skin rather than hear.

A moment later, Severus let go.

*~*~*

The door was locked, but by conventional rather than magical means, and all it took was a simple Alohomora spell for Sirius to gain entry to the house.

Snape's house.

Saying that Sirius wasn't thrilled about having to share living space with Snape was rather like saying Azkaban was an unpleasant place. But Dumbledore wanted him to stay close to Remus, and Remus lived here now, so he had little choice in the matter. It was only too bad that the summer was beginning rather than ending.

Still, he was pleased to have one of his old friends back in his life. He hadn't been as close to either Remus or Peter as he had been to James, but he had considered himself to be fairly close to Remus, or at least he had been until the Shrieking Shack debacle had created a rift between them that lasted until his incarceration.

But Remus seemed willing to forgive and forget the mistakes of the past, and Sirius was grateful. He'd lost too much already, and he was still a fugitive. He needed people to trust and to care for more than he wanted to admit; he'd been deprived for twelve long years, and, even now, he had a scant handful of people who knew of his innocence. Dumbledore, Remus, Harry and his friends... Such a vast difference to the extensive circle of friends and lovers he'd known before.

Speaking of lovers, it was awfully quiet downstairs.

Sirius strode down the hall to the parlor, letting his footsteps ringing on the stone floor announce his presence, but it was unnecessary. When he walked into the room, he found there was a fire lit as if in preparation for inhabitants, but otherwise, it was empty. The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he considered the implications. He'd delayed his arrival until late in the day, partly to give Remus the time he obviously wanted alone with Snape, and partly because he hoped they'd be out of the bedroom so he wouldn't have to think about what they'd been doing in it.

"Mrraow?"

Turning on his heel, he glanced down and saw a cat sitting in the doorway, its tail curled around its front paws and its ears up and alert. Wide green eyes stared at him with unblinking relentlessness, as if assessing him. Remus' cat. It had to be. Sirius couldn't imagine Snape keeping an animal companion. Or perhaps it was a stray neighborhood animal that Remus had given free run of the house. How very like Remus, he thought, and it would explain why he hadn't seen it during his previous, albeit brief, visit.

He smiled and approached it, pleased when it didn't immediately turn and run away. It wasn't skittish around strangers, then. Kneeling, Sirius extended his hand to the creature, a lovely black feline without a single white hair on its lithe body.

"Pah!"

The cat spat at him, its ears flattening against its sleek little skull, then lashed out at him with one small but sharp-clawed paw, leaving four long red stripes across the back of his hand.

"Bloody hell!" Sirius recoiled as the cat whirled and streaked away before he could retaliate, and he glared at its retreating form.

Not Remus' cat at all! That had to be Snape's animal, the damned little monster.

Nursing his stinging hand, Sirius intended to go to the bathroom to wash the scratches and get something to staunch the bleeding, but as soon as he drew near the stairs, he heard it.

Remus' voice. There was no mistaking that distinctive husky baritone. A "whiskey and razor blades voice" Lily had called it. She had given all of the Marauders a Most Sexy title. Sirius' had been Most Sexy Walk. James' had been Most Sexy Smile. He couldn't remember what Peter's had been.

Remus' had been Most Sexy Voice, and at the moment, said Most Sexy Voice was wafting through the thick wood door of the bedroom and down the stairs to reach Sirius' ears.

"Oh, God, yes!"

Sirius tried not to cringe.

"Feels so good, love... oh, Sev, yes... yesyesyes..."

His face burning, Sirius decided to tend his wounds in the kitchen instead.

It was over an hour later before he heard footsteps on the stairs; he'd had plenty of time to peruse Snape's bookshelves for something to read while he passed the time. He found a lot of boring potions textbooks, but there were some other books there -- Muggle novels, mostly -- that he knew were likely Remus' additions to the collection, and those were of more interest.

He glanced up from the novel he'd chosen to see Remus wander into the parlor. Remus was fully dressed in faded jeans and a light sweater, but his skin glowed as if freshly scrubbed, and damp tendrils of his silver-streaked hair clung to his face. He lit up with a wide, bright smile when he saw Sirius, and he approached with out-stretched arms. Putting the book aside, Sirius rose to his feet and returned his friend's embrace, breathing in the scent of soap and shampoo, and trying not to think about what they'd been used to wash away.

"I'm sorry, if I'd realized you were back, I'd have come down sooner," Remus said, offering an apologetic smile, but Sirius waved him silent.

"I've been amusing myself well enough," he assured Remus, gesturing to the book. "So, er..." He took his seat again, averting his eyes when Remus winced slightly as he sat down in the chair across from Sirius'. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh, yes." The words came out in a sultry purr, and Sirius felt his face going hot again.

"Good." He hoped his voice didn't sound as strangled as it felt.

Silence hung heavy between them for a moment as Remus watched him with a speculative expression, and Sirius picked up the novel again and flipped through it restlessly.

"I know you're not prudish," Remus said at last. "Not unless the Sirius Black who mooned the girl's dorm out our bedroom window has somehow developed inhibitions. So why are you so uncomfortable? Is it because Sev and I are both men?"

"No, of course not," Sirius protested. "It's never bothered me that you're gay, you know that."

"Is it because I'm with Sev?"

Images rose up unbidden in Sirius' mind. Snape pulling Remus into his arms, his inky black hair spilling around Remus' face as he claimed a deep, demanding kiss. Snape's hands roaming his lover's body, coaxing out low moans of surrender. Snape's mouth, drawing in his stiff, aching shaft. Snape's body covering his, taking him, riding him...

"Yes." He croaked, focusing desperately on Remus to force the unwanted images away. "He's a filthy, lying traitor. He's disgusting. He's --"

"He's standing right here, hearing every insulting word."

Sirius snapped his head around to see Snape standing in the door, angry words dying on his lips as his attention was riveted by the golden glow on Snape's neck, shining forth even from beneath the high collars Snape favored.

"Oh, God, no..." He whipped back around to stare, wide-eyed and anguished, at Remus. "You didn't."

Remus went still, his expression growing close enough to wary that Sirius felt himself beginning to grind his teeth in frustration. Snape had been a sticking point in their friendship twenty years ago, and he still was, damn him. "I did."

Sirius fixed Remus with an unflinching gaze. "We need to talk privately."

"Is that your not-so-subtle idea of a hint?" Snape drawled, but Sirius ignored him.

"I need to have this conversation, Sev."

A look passed between Remus and Snape, one that Sirius couldn't read, one that made him feel very much the outsider, and he glanced away, turning his attention to the dancing flames in the fireplace as if they held the secrets of the ages.

"I'll be in my workroom."

Sirius didn't have to look to know when Snape was gone; he felt the "hands off" vibes emanating from the claim marker gradually ebb. Then Remus slipped out of his chair and knelt in front of Sirius, clasping both of Sirius' hands and holding them tightly between his own. "I regret that this upsets you," he said gently. "But I love Severus, and I wanted to claim him as mine."

"I know all that," Sirius snapped impatiently. "I'm trying to accept it, but dammit, Remus! It'd be a helluva lot easier if it were anyone but Snape."

"I'm sorry my heart didn't keep your delicate sensibilities in mind when it made its choice," Remus retorted, a sharp edge to his voice, and Sirius closed his eyes, releasing a long sigh. The last thing he wanted to do was pick another fight and risk angering one of the few people who wasn't out for his blood.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I really am trying. It's just difficult to see evidence of your... relationship."

Like James and Lily's wedding rings. How was it that two of his dearest friends had found love, yet he -- ostensibly the most outgoing and charming of the four -- had been left behind, alone?

Remus pressed his forehead against Sirius' and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. "I love you, too, you know."

"Yes, I know." He fell silent, leaning into the contact as he chose his next words carefully. "I just... I worry. I want you to be happy."

"He makes me happy."

Sirius couldn't repress a snort at that. "God knows why, but if that's your choice," he added hastily, before the admonishing frown could completely form on Remus' brow, "then I'll try to accept it. For your sake, not his."

"That's good enough for me." Remus' voice was warm and affectionate once more, and Sirius felt some of the tension in his shoulders loosen with sheer relief. "Come on. Let's get Sev. It's well past tea time."

Remus led the way upstairs to Snape's workroom, what Sirius guessed had once been a second bedroom, but which was now filled with whatever vile and arcane substances Snape required to brew his concoctions. Considering its close proximity to the master bedroom, Sirius was grateful Remus had converted the dining room into a bedroom for him instead of trying to move Snape's workroom. It was downstairs, safely out of noise range.

As soon as they walked into the room, Snape was ready with a scathing remark. "Kissed and made up already?"

"We've reached an understanding," Remus replied mildly.

"Now let's you and I come to an understanding, Snape. Hurt him," Sirius warned, his voice dropping to a low growl, "and you'll answer to me."

Snape folded his arms and stared down his nose at Sirius with unmasked disdain. "The same goes for you, Black."

With a sigh of pure annoyance, Remus shook his head. "I don't know why either of you bother snarling and snapping at each other, like you're a couple of alpha males vying for the dominant position. It's a complete waste of time. Neither of you are ever going to be the alpha male around here."

"And why is that?" Snape lifted one dark eyebrow questioningly.

"Because I already am."

After this matter-of-fact announcement, he stretched until his back popped, then smiled too-sweetly at them. "I'm hungry," he said, sauntering towards the door. "Anyone care to join me for tea?"

As he strolled out of the workroom, Snape and Sirius stared at Remus' retreating figure for a moment, then glanced at each other with a decreased amount of hostility.

"We've been outmaneuvered, haven't we." It wasn't a question, but Snape nodded anyway.

"I'd say so, yes."

It was a moment of fragile rapport that would shatter the next time they butted heads. It certainly wouldn't be enough to build any sort of bridge of friendship or even lessened animosity between them. But for now, for this evening, it was, as Albus would say, enough to be going on with.