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The Long Road	By : SinisterMe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 63607 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 18
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

Chapter List
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They appeared in Snape’s living room with a ‘crack’. The boy fell to his hands and knees, dry heaving on the carpet. A house elf appeared and Snape gestured him over to the levitating man.
“Please get him cleaned up, I will need to tend to that burn. Take care of his more minor wounds and bandage that wrist, he will need to have his burns scoured; we can’t allow the skin to keep healing over that infection. Let me know when you are done if I’m not up there already. Thank you, Fred.”
“Fred is always glad to be helping!” He steered the floating man up the stairs.
Snape looked to the boy, who was still on the floor but no longer being sick. Tears were streaming down his face as he looked in horror at the small bile stain he’d made on the fine area rug.
Again, he knelt beside him. Now would be an excellent time to start channeling Albus Dumbledore. Snape had dealt with hundreds of children in his years as an instructor and Head of House, but none of them had been this young. First off he banished the sick up from the floor with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about that. See, it’s gone?” Brilliant, Severus, just bloody brilliant.
The boy pulled his arms tighter around himself and did not look up. Snape pulled a blanket from its resting place over the arm of a wing back chair near them, and spread it around the boy’s shaking shoulders. The boy cringed from his touch but seemed surprised when Snape withdrew, leaving the blanket in place. He pulled it gratefully around himself and started to cry even harder.
He took his wand, going to release the cuffs, as the harpy at the auction house had told him to; but the boy shrieked and pulled back, trying to get as far away as he could when he saw the item.
“It’s okay,” Snape gentled. “I’m not going to hurt you.” But the boy didn’t seem to hear him, becoming more frantic by the moment.
Deciding that the child was overwhelmed, he did both of them a favor and cast a soft “Dormio” over him. The child drifted instantly to sleep, slumping harmlessly against the side of the chair. Snape stood and tapped the cuffs with his wand as he had intended to in the first place. They fell to the floor with a clatter and Severus banished them in disgust. He carefully scooped up the sleeping child and carried him up the stairs.
He entered the room he had prepared for the man before leaving that morning. Fred was just finishing with the magical cleansing of the burns. The man was naked and covered to the waist with blankets, mangled feet sticking out the bottom. Severus lay the boy down on a large chair and ottoman he pushed together with his knees, knowing he would be asleep for some time yet, no matter what commotion went on around him.
He left Fred to complete his task and went back downstairs. He needed to get some supplies from the lab, grateful he had prepared for the worst.
“‘As is’ condition,” he snorted. It was a miracle the man had survived this long, he wasn’t about to let him die in his guest bed. Pulling out an assortment of vials, one large jar and a swath of potion soaked bandages, he placed them in a cloth bag and hurriedly went back upstairs.
“He is being ready for healing, sir.”
“Thank you, Fred.”
“You is needing more help?”
“That will do for now, but please prepare a light supper. It has been a very tiring day.”
“Enough for three sir, or just one?” The elf asked.
“Enough for three please.” Fred wasn’t normally so unsure around him. “But make one serving a bowl of broth. I doubt this one could handle more than that. A large pitcher of water and a pot of tea wouldn’t be amiss either.”
Fred smiled in what was supposed to be an approving manor, “Of course, sir.” He disappeared with a nod.
Fred had cleared the wounds. He was surprised to find them worse than he had originally thought. The magical fire had burned most of his chest, curling up his neck and down one hip and arm. With the shirt completely removed a large percentage of it was open again, which suited Snape’s needs just fine since it was so infected. He forced two of his strongest pain relief and antipyretic potions down the lycanthrope’s throat.
He removed his outer robe and tossed it on the unoccupied chair by the bed, rolling his shirt sleeves up to the elbow. He cast a sterilizing charm on his hands and exposed forearms, spreading the salve from the jar he had brought up from the lab onto the burned skin. At some point in his ministrations, Fred returned with a large platter. He was just in time to assist Snape with the bandaging of the wounds.
The elf supported the man while Snape expertly wrapped his burns in the medicated gauze. They lay him back down and Snape repeated the procedure with his feet, which were if possible, ghastlier than the rest of him. He thought about releasing the collar, but decided it may be best to leave it for a time, until Lupin had oriented himself. There was no need to risk a wandless attack from an injured man he would be hesitant to retaliate against.
“Between the potions, salve and gauze any infection should be purged from his system shortly. It will, however take some time to heal completely.”
Fred nodded, “The little one, sir?”
“I don’t know. His physical injuries seem superficial; mostly bruises, blisters where those chains chafed, severe malnutrition. We will see when he wakes up. He will be understandably distressed.”
“Fred will be helping where he can, sir.”
“Your services are invaluable.” The elf preened before disappearing.
Movement from the bed alerted him, the man was waking up. Even with the potions he would be in some measure of pain.
He groaned, opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. Snape lowered the light in the room slightly to accommodate his returning vision. The man moved his neck from side to side, testing his muscles. He seemed to orient himself with a start, eyes locking on to Snape for half a second. Surprise followed quickly by fear flashed across his face. He dropped his gaze.
“Master?” he croaked quietly, he tried to pull himself up but dropped back to bed with a pained exclamation.
“I suppose that I am. I would not try to move more than you have already.You are in bad shape.”
“Severus?” he said blearily. Then the hand of his good arm flew to his mouth. “Forgive me, master!”
Snape raised the light in the room slowly and walked back over to the bed.
Lupin was looking around quickly, perhaps for a way to escape. He noted his nakedness and tried to pull the blanked higher and cover himself with it like a shield. His breathing was erratic. Snape? Merlin help him, he was worse than dead.
“Lupin,” Severus said sharply. “You are going to exacerbate your injuries. Even with your metabolism, there is no way I can give you another pain reliever this soon after the last.”
“..Sorry, master, I-” Lupin choked, looking lost and more than a little frightened.
Snape flinched every time he said it. Irony always was a cruel bitch: the twice freed slave now the master. He came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, pretending not to notice how Lupin pulled away from him as far as he was able. Severus made no further move toward him. He sat still until the other man relaxed slightly, looking intently at his hands. He sighed; what would Albus do in a situation like this?
“Lupin-” He started, then paused to reconsider. “Remus,” Lupin’s eyes flickered up at the use of his name. “I would prefer if you didn’t refer to me by that title.”
“Forgive me, master. It was a moment of shock; I swear it will never happen again.” Lupin seemed on the verge of tears. What had Macnair done to this man who used to spar with him every morning over coffee and toast in the Great Hall scant years ago?
“Call me Severus, or sir, if you absolutely feel you must. I do not wish – I am not comfortable with the title of master.” What went unsaid was that he was not comfortable with this entire arrangement.
“Yes, of course, sir. I am sorry I did not understand.” Remus’ voice was cracking; he was licking his lips and trying to swallow, unharmed hand lying tightly clenched in his lap.
“Are you thirsty?” He continued to use a quiet voice, trying to keep the situation in hand. Showing his intense frustration at this point would only make things more difficult.
Remus let out a sob, seemingly afraid to answer. If no, he would be punished for lying; if yes, he would be ridiculed and denied. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly.
Snape stood and went to the tray Fred had placed across the room. He returned with a tall glass of cool water and the bowl of broth the elf had prepared. The bowl he placed on the nightstand. The glass he half held in Lupin’s direction. “Lupin,” he tried again. “Would you like a drink of water?”
“Yes, please, sir. Please,” he moaned. He would debase himself for one sip of that water. There was nothing he could think of he would not do for a mouthful of that clear, clean, cold water. He was about to say so, anything to convince his master to allow him a swallow; but before he could, Snape had slid closer, holding the rim of the glass to his parched lips. His good hand came up to steady it, knowing he could not support the cup alone in his current condition.
“Slowly, small sips or you’ll make yourself sick – that’s right,” Snape encouraged the best he could; such things were not in his nature. It took a few moments to get in a couple of blessed mouthfuls. Severus pulled the glass away, careful not to spill. He set it on the night table also. “We’ll let that settle and then you can have some more. I have some thickened broth here; if you aren’t feeling too nauseous it would be good to get something more solid in your system to balance all the potions you have ingested.”
He picked up the bowl and paused, thinking for a moment before filling the spoon, catching any drips on the edge of the bowl, and offering the food to Remus.
The scent of herbs and chicken made Lupin’s mouth water; there was no way he would argue with food. Snape helped him eat about half the bowl before he was too full to stuff another bite down. Hunger was such a deceptive thing: if you’d asked him before eating the broth, he’d have said he could have eaten a whole cow but it ended up he couldn’t even eat one entire bowl of soup.
Severus noticed he was slowing down and assisted him with one more bite before setting the bowl aside and casting a preserving charm on it. “It’s no shock you can’t manage more than that. Just let it digest and later you can have the rest.”
Remus sighed and shifted in the bed. Yes, he was in pain, but it was nowhere near the all-consuming red hot poker it had been the last time he remembered being conscious. Despite that he was more content then he could remember being.
A feeling of loss suddenly struck through him, guilt so strong he almost retched with the intensity of it. While he was laying here warm, comfortable, fed and watered, his son was where? Back in the pens with the beatings and groping hands, one little boy lost in a sea of faces, frightened and alone? He sat up with a jerk, “Teddy!” He had never been so ashamed in all his life. He had woken and not thought of his son.
Snape seemed startled by his outburst. He found hands on his bandaged shoulder and his chest, guiding him back to the soft mattress. “Relax, Lupin.” His impatience with the situation was beginning to show. “He is here, sleeping on the chair.” Snape cast a look across the dim room to a bundle laid out on the large arm chair. No words in the world could have been sweeter to his ears. He wept in relief, tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks.
“Thank you, sir, for everything.”
“I - rest, Lupin,” Snape instructed, sounding drained.
Remus sniffled. “Yes, sir,” he replied weakly, settling down and closing his eyes.
Severus took the salve he had applied to Lupin’s burns and carefully spread some across Teddy’s wrists and one or two of the worst visible bruises and scrapes. He then returned the lighting in the room to low and went to make himself a cup of tea. He sat on the cushion of the bay window and looked out at the night, contemplating the strange but severe turn his life had taken over the last while.
Walden Macnair had died. Finally, gods be praised, they lay that son of a bitch in the ground. He had read it in The Prophet over breakfast one morning, promptly spit his coffee across the table and went to pour himself two fingers of Scotch to celebrate. Seven thirty in the morning be damned, it was five o’clock somewhere. What had been a very promising start to the day deteriorated swiftly as the rest of his post arrived.
Two howlers, which actually wasn’t all that bad; since the trials had ended he was sometimes getting three or four a day. Another one was from Potioners Monthly, thanking him in a generic fashion for his scathing letter about their article on the ‘new properties’ of Horntailed Dragon saliva. The wet noodle who wrote that article had clearly never seen the inside of a cauldron before. He banished these without a thought, sending the owls flapping madly away with the angry wave of his arm.
One owl arrived moments after the others had departed. He landed on the table directly in front of Severus and began to groom. He offered his leg after a moment and Snape took the scroll without a thought. He offered this owl a small piece of bacon and it flew on its way. He finished breakfast and sat back to finish his Scotch before finally deciding to read the letter.
He read the contents through once, went back over to the cabinet above the ice box and poured another drink. He brought the bottle back over to the table, plunking it down unceremoniously, took a long drink from the already poured glass and re-read the letter.
He sat there a moment, dumbstruck. Walden had left him an inheritance, if it could even be called that. He had inherited Remus and Teddy Lupin. He refilled his glass to half-mast and read the stupid thing a third time. There could be no mistake.
Eight months before the final battle Remus and Nymphadora’s home had been raided; the young witch found dead in their living room and no sign of the father or son. After months of searching they had real, live, present wounded and dead to deal with; the Death Eaters striking harder and more wildly than ever. The two remaining Lupins were declared casualties of war, a short but heartfelt ceremony was held. People moved on and continued to fight. Snape had run himself ragged between juggling both sides plus his duties at Hogwarts. He lived on Pepper-Up and adrenaline; certain every summons was a death warrant.
Albus had wanted information and in the end even more drastic measures from him. He came back to the school limping and dripping blood trying to satisfy Voldemort, to but no avail. The information that would spare him punishment would be the deaths of countless innocent lives. In the end, after killing his only friend and mentor in order to keep cover, the Dark Lord was defeated by a teenage boy and it was all over. Only the pieces remained and few were left to clean them up.
Most of the remaining Death Eaters went into hiding and were slowly hunted down one by one. Some fled the country, finding reprieve from the Ministry’s retribution under assumed names hundreds of miles from their homes. The Macnairs were one of these families. Out of the reach of the Aurors, they lived in peace they didn’t deserve for two years. Walden finally dropped dead of a heart attack, one year after his wife had committed suicide. Irony struck again, the one thing that Walden never did have, a heart, ended up dealing his killing blow. In the form of a massive heart attack, no one around or concerned enough to do anything about his passing.
It would have been beautiful if Snape hadn’t been left with this mess. He had gone to the Ministry appointment where he had been informed that until the will was settled completely, the Lupins would remain in The Mendola Auction House. If he denounced them, they would be sold and he would receive a cash sum (estimated at about forty five thousand Galleons, a small fortune). He been handed a sealed envelope and told that it was to be read before he made his final decision.
He broke the seal and unfolded the paper once he was again in the relative safety and privacy of his own home. He was met by Macnair’s messy scrawling’s:
Dearest Severus,
You are a filthy traitor. But I didn’t write this to tell you things you already know. The Order’s pet werewolf and its offspring have been in my keeping these last years. We were going to return them in pieces but it was decided that it was more fun keeping them alive. There has been much discussion about what to do with you, on the other hand. We decided that the worst punishment for you would be to let you live with everything you have done. May it be a hot brand on your new found morality for the rest of your miserable years.
The rest of them believe you to be a liar from the beginning; I know better though. Before the start of the first war, I watched you. I saw the lust in your eyes; the hunger. It was only fed when you brutalized, when you beat and when you killed. I saw you scheming, coming up with new serums to make those filthy muggles and half breeds bleed and scream and blister. It was what kept you alive, what made you know you were alive. I know that need for power, over other people and yourself is what allowed you to breathe, to get out of bed every morning.
I knew all of that, because that same thing thrived in me also. I saw it in you and I know it is in you still. So I have devised a test for your unfailing, newfound morals, Snape. Here, on a platter, is your remaining enemy and his progeny. Every inch of them belongs to your tender mercies. After years of my loving care, they will do anything you say, accept any punishment for any or no infraction. They expect to be punished, just for their existence. They are putty in your hand and under your wand.
With the new werewolf legislation, it is even legal. No one to police you, to enforce you to be or do what is ‘right’. It is all up to you my sick, twisted once-ally. We shall see how your resolve to be better than us fares against the chance to make them suffer for what they did to you and what they drove you to do. If not at first, then in time your true colors will show. You and I both know what you are; the only one pretending is you.
Or you could collect the money. Sell them off separately to Merlin knows who. Boys about Teddy’s age fetch a fine price at Mendola’s. You can amp up his worth if you tell them he’s a virgin; none of my delicious perversions involve little boys. But soon he will be older, don’t waste his youth as you did your own.
Remus, on the other hand, well he’s a real treat. The Ministry lawyer will fill you in on just what enslavement spell was used on that tender peach. You will take on the same ownership, or sell him to the highest bidder. Let’s see how kind you can be when you have this kind of power over another person; beast; whatever.
Have fun Snape.
Go to hell where you belong; I’ll be waiting.
Walden Macnair
The lawyer had given him all the necessary paperwork and sent him on his way. It took nine days for the rest of the will to be dealt with, and on the tenth he found himself at the auction, no idea what he was doing, going to pick up that blasted werewolf and his son.
His tea was growing cold. He cast a heating spell on it and had a sip; not awful. He had no idea what to do next. The documents told him that he was to have the same kind of ownership as Macnair had had, or none at all. He was surprised to find himself accepting, half unsure what he was getting into.
The next week had been spent in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library; although he no longer worked there, Minerva allowed him full access over the summer holidays. Things weren’t looking very bright, for him or for Lupin. The level of… intimacy this spell would require was appalling. To finalize the ownership over Lupin Sr. they would need to have intercourse, consensual or not.
The more he read though, the more intriguing it seemed. Knowing Macnair as he did, the choice of this particular spell confused him. It was based on how the master wizard decided to distribute the power, there was little restraint in what he could not do. Intent was a very strong force in the magical world. There was no denying that his actions and wishes would dictate most everything in this bond. It was almost demanded by this type of magic, something barely confined by the way they thought of spell casting; it bordered on being a Dark spell but danced away from it; nothing scrawled on the ground in the blood of the supplicant, no sacrifices made, and no selling portions of soul. Yet it was clear that if he chose, he could take this spell and twist it; allow Remus nothing, take everything. Remus would be the only one to suffer. Walden was right, the laws being what they were these days, no one would say mum.
He knew Walden was wrong, yet also right. Who he had been and the person who lived this night were the same flesh, but of different heart. He had renounced those behaviors the night Albus had forgiven him and had embraced his tearful pupil and said they would work it out; that it would be okay and no mistake should last forever once realized.
Years later he realized his biggest mistake, consenting in to kill Albus ‘for the greater good’. Yes, the elderly wizard had been dying anyway. But one more day, a couple more hours of research and experimentation and maybe he could have figured it out, unraveled the puzzle of what exactly was killing one of the greatest men of their time and how to stop it. If he had stayed awake one more hour, put it off one more day, maybe he would still be there to tell him what to do; to tell them all. But if wishes were horses they would all have to start making mass amounts of glue just to deal with their numbers.
A sound across the room pulled him out of his thoughts. Teddy was waking up. Hopefully he would have more luck than earlier trying to connect with him. Lupin’s recovery would take quite a while. The two of them would be spending a lot of time together, as Fred had duties and Snape didn’t see the sense in letting a six year old rampage around his house unsupervised.
He set his cup back in the saucer on the tray and tip toed closer to Teddy, who was fighting of the sleep charm valiantly. The boy sat up, groggily rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked around suspiciously, eyes locking onto Severus, grazing over his sleeping father. Interesting.
Teddy wrapped his arms around himself again, like he had been doing at the auction house. Snape assumed it was some kind of self-soothing technique. With Walden as his warden for the last few years, who knew how his mind had developed? He would try to probe, to bring out the boy’s self, whatever that ended up being. He hadn’t even heard the boy speak, but he seemed to understand what was being said well enough. The sight of his wand earlier had certainly frightened him.
Snape came closer and fear wrote itself across Teddy’s face, but he did not withdraw as Lupin had. Snape wondered if this was a good or a bad sign. He stopped and crouched just out of arm’s reach of the little Lycanthrope, hoping that he would be less imposing if he weren’t looming over him. He then chose to sit on the floor, crossing his legs almost as if he were meditating. This way he didn’t look like he would spring up or forward. He sat stationary for a moment, looking mildly at Teddy.
The boy seemed to feel a buildup of pressure or tension and finally asked in a rushed murmur, almost trying not to be heard, “Who are you?” Only then did he recoil, as if he knew he would be hit. Snape continued to sit as motionless as he had been for a moment before deliberately bringing his hand up, like he was offering to shake the boy’s hand.
“My name is Severus,” he said just above a whisper. “I’m very pleased to meet you. What is your name?” He held his arm extended, waiting for a response.
Teddy didn’t even pause to think, he straightened his back and said, “4629, sir.”
“I don’t mean your number, child. What did people call you before you were brought to that place?” Snape tried to keep his voice soft and didn’t retract his arm.
Teddy thought for a moment. Then his face screwed up as if in rage. “You filthy animal! Get away from me you little beast!” he shouted, then sat there stunned and began to cry.
He heard a strangled sob from across the room and knew that Lupin was awake and was in pain worse than his wounds could cause him. He didn’t move to acknowledge him, but continued to keep his hand steady.
“There will be none of that here. Don’t worry, I know your name.” He tried smiling and hoped it didn’t look too grotesque on his face. “Teddy. Your name is Teddy.”
The boy was still sniffling wetly. He looked at Snape with watery eyes and slowly reached his small hand out to meet the man’s larger one. He withdrew briefly just before their hands touched, but when Severus made no move to grab him, he brought it out again with more determination. Snape gently shook the boy’s hand and released it.
Teddy had moved slightly closer to him. Snape made no motion to rise. “Would you like a drink, Teddy, or something to eat?”
The boy looked at him with glassy eyes. Snape’s mouth gaped open as they boy fell to his knees and dropped his forehead to the floor. “Please sir, may I have a drink of water?”
Snape hurriedly grasped his shoulders and pulled him upright. “You may always have a drink of water here, Teddy. I will never deny you that.” He stood slowly and fetched the tray, old joints protesting as he sat back down on the floor where the boy as now sitting cross legged as he had. He placed it between them, still not giving Lupin any sign that he knew he was awake.
He poured Teddy a short glass of water and one of orange juice. He also placed a small bowl of thickened broth in front of him and a plate with some bread and jam. Not the most traditional supper, but something the child could hopefully manage to keep down if he went slowly enough.
“…This is – all for me?” he asked with hesitation.
“Yes, Teddy.” He would use the child’s name as much as possible; to reassure him he was a person, an individual, someone who warranted a name. He remembered being small, thinking his own name was dimwit or some derivative of bastard. Under his roof, things would not be so, Macnair’s prophetic letter be damned. He was not his father and he had lived as a slave for long enough to know how not to treat one. “Eat and drink slowly. When you feel full, we will put the rest away and you can eat it later.”
Teddy looked at the food in front of him with wide eyes and dug in silently, eating both the bread and jam and the entire bowl of broth. Snape gave him a moment to let it settle and the poured him another glass of juice and put three biscuits in front of him. The boy munched those down too.
“Teddy,” he asked. “Would you like to go see your father?”
The boy looked more frightened than he had yet. His eyes darted around; hugging himself and making himself as small as he could, shaking his head.
“Why not?” He tried to keep his voice from coming out clipped.
Teddy continued shaking his head, “You’ll make him do things.”
“What kind of things?” Snape pushed in his most undemanding voice.
“You’ll make him hurt himself.” He covered his face in his hands. “So you don’t hurt me.”
Remus swore softly in the background.
Snape sat in silence. He finally said, “Your father is in that bed. Yes, he is hurt right now.” He paused, “Do you know that I have known your father for a very long time?”
Teddy almost looked up at this, still crying.
Remus swore again.
Snape continued, “ We went to school together. Because I have known him for so long, I know that if you go see him right now, your father will hurt less, not more. If you promise not to be rough with his bandages, you may sleep in his bed tonight.”
All of a sudden he felt two stunned sets of eyes boring into his scull in disbelief. He did his best to ignore them and stood. Again he offered his hand to Teddy, who took it after only a moment’s deliberation. He pulled him to his feet and ushered him over to the bed. “I’m going to pick you up and put you on the bed, Teddy.”
The boy nodded and Snape hoisted him carefully by the armpits onto the mattress.
“Daddy!” Teddy whimpered and latched himself onto Lupin’s good side and began to wail. Remus did the best he could to comfort him.
Snape looked down on the two of them for half a moment and then quietly pulled the curtain around the bed to give them some privacy. He sat down in the armchair, setting alarm wards to wake him if either Lupin was in distress.
Giving up on his tea, he decided to read there for a while. If there were any immediate problems, he would be on hand to deal with them. Just a few pages and he would retreat to his own room for the night.
A/N:

Again, thank you for reading and reviews are worth more than gold.

Hope this clears a few things up. More to come!
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The Long Road