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You Will Not Kiss Me	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 22836 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter List
- 33
- 34
- 35
Direct quotes from chapters 15 -18 of GoF are in bold and © J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 34: The Choice of Champions

After all the staff and the Ministry's intricate planning, the date of the arrival of the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had arrived. It was the day before Hallowe'en. Snape couldn't get it over with soon enough. The week leading up to the arrivals, no-one had been concentrating on their work, and accidents in Potions had doubled. It had been a very trying week, but now the day had come.

The Heads of houses were ordering their students into lines. Snape noted how the Gryffindors could keep neither order nor seemliness as they jostled over each other for position. His own House members had a far greater appreciation of the proper behaviour and lined up in an orderly manner, youngest and smallest to the fore, under his sharp, watchful eyes.

Snape allowed himself a small smile on hearing all the students gasp and whisper as they set eyes on the gigantic, horse drawn powder blue carriage pulled by a dozen giant, winged palominos with eyes of flame that brought the delegation of Beauxbatons spiralling down to the front of the castle. This was followed by further gasps and whispering on seeing the part-giant headmistress, Madame Maxime. Dumbledore welcomed her warmly together with her dozen students, poorly clad against the Scottish autumn.

The magical steeds were left in the care of a clearly smitten Hagrid and the anticipation heightened for the arrival of the Durmstrang contingent. Snape smirked at the theatrical grandeur of the disturbance deep in the Black Lake becoming a whirlpool from which a black mast erupted followed by the magnificent, skeletal Man o' War. It was melodramatic and gothic: the students loved it. Snape rolled his eyes in despair, knowing he'd have to relay all this detail to Lupin tonight, who would lap up every bit of it.

The all male delegation disembarked, all wearing the customary furs of the Russian steppes. The assembled crowd was now alight with supposition and wonder.

Then Snape saw him. Igor Karkaroff striding to greet Dumbledore, for all the world as if the man had never been that trusted lieutenant for all plans and plots for Muggle murder and torture in the Dark Lord's service. He chanced a look at Moody and saw undisguised and vehement loathing etched on the man's mutilated features for what he undoubtedly saw as another Death Eater without his just desserts. Well, he hoped Karkaroff might distract Moody somewhat. Moody was no more than Karkaroff deserved.

He noticed the susurration in the crowd at one of the Durmstrang students. Ah, Viktor Krum: the international champion Quidditch player. Perfect, Snape thought disdainfully at the frantic adoration he witnessed from both male and female students alike, even spotted Potter and Weasley looking positively besotted. Well, three guesses what Potter will want to be in a few years time!

All the students, staff and delegates made their way in to the Great Hall and, as Snape had instructed, the Slytherin prefects were quick to offer the Durmstrang students places at the House table. He noted Filius had clearly done likewise with Beauxbatons. Minerva was clearly put out she hadn't thought of it, but conceded the point lost with a wry nod to him. He noted with a barely suppressed sneer the consternation of some of the less sophisticated students seeing some continental dishes appearing at the feast. But by the most entertaining thing he saw that evening was when one of the Beauxbatons girls merely walked to the Gryffindor table, and broke a hundred pubescent hearts and simultaneously raised their collective blood pressure dangerously. Part Veela surely, Snape thought, looking at the boys' completely unguarded testosterone-driven reactions.

"It'll be nice for ya to have your double-dealing, murdering friends with you, I'm sure," Moody snarled at Snape in passing as he escorted two late comers to the feast. Confused by the plural, Snape was surprised to see Ludo Bagman, acquitted collaborator of the Death Eaters, along with Barty Crouch from the two departments of the Ministry that had been in charge of the arrangements for the tournament joining the feast for the introduction of the Goblet of Fire. Snape remained impassive to the taunt, but uncomfortable to have both Karkaroff and Bagman, as former Death Eaters, under the school roof.

The Goblet of Fire was produced as the impartial selector of the champions and Dumbledore reiterated to the students the binding nature of the selection of the champions and that he would draw an age line to prevent anyone under the age of 17 entering. It was moved to the entrance hall. With that done, the feast broke up.

Snape was very interested to witness Karkaroff and his students run into Potter. There was no doubt in Snape's mind that Karkaroff's reaction was one of animosity, even hatred, and he watched carefully in case he would be required to step in, but Moody was suddenly there and Snape watched the blood drain from Karkaroff's face to see the ex-Auror responsible for his incarceration face to face again. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over his face. Snape understood it well.

The next day, a number of students were admitted to Poppy's care with resplendent facial whiskers following their independent, yet equally abject, failures to hoodwink Dumbledore's age line. Snape was pleased to note that not one was a Slytherin. As far as he was aware, only Warrington had entered his name, and only after consultation with Snape himself.

The feast was laden with anticipation. Snape didn't feel that the students enjoyed the food as much as their teenage appetites would normally demand. Only the choice of champions occupied their minds.

The time arrived and Dumbledore officiated over the drama of the Goblet's choices. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything... the sparkling bright bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. ... The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly ... and ... a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it – the whole room gasped.

Thus, the first champion, Viktor Krum for Durmstrang was chosen, and he made his way with much adulation into the next chamber.

The Goblet ejected its second choice to the same wonderment of the students and their visitors and Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, the part Veela, was selected.

For the third selection, the Hogwarts champion: Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff! A Hufflepuff! Snape thought in wonder. Well, Diggory was a good student and athlete – why not? The Hufflepuff table had erupted in unalloyed joy and, with some pleasure, he saw Pomona wreathed in happy smiles, but better still, the Gryffindors were less than ecstatic.

Dumbledore was just starting his closing speech when Snape noted he became distracted and then saw the Goblet firing red again. What – could – this – be? The staff table became agitated and then another parchment shot into the air, to be caught automatically by Dumbledore and stared at for a long time.

He read out, "Harry Potter."

Snape's face may have been impassive but he was stunned. How had the brat done it? How had he beaten the age line set by Dumbledore? He had been foolish to think Potter would not find a way to embroil himself in this and bring himself to danger to stay in the public eye. He saw Minerva rush to her feet and go to Dumbledore and hiss to him, "However that was accomplished, he cannot compete. He's just a child!" Dumbledore nodded.

Snape scoured the room for the brat, surprised he hadn't strutted forward to claim his place immediately. The students' angry whispers were becoming louder now. Good! Cheats should never prosper, Snape thought bitterly as finally Potter came forward, hesitatingly. Oh, the very picture of innocence but always determined that the rules are for lesser mortals than a Potter. There was no doubt that Potter knew how to dissemble well. Dumbledore sent him into the ante-chamber also, the Great Hall now in an uproar.

Snape joined Dumbledore, Minerva, Karkaroff, Crouch and Madame Maxime in a hurried and waspish conversation whereby Karkaroff and Maxime threw accusations of cheating at Dumbledore and Crouch, from which Minerva and Snape defended him as they made their way to the ante-chamber.

The accusations continued into the chamber but Snape knew where the fault lay.

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with knowledge of the child's disregard for his own safety. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrive here - "

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted with the certainty of Potter's wrong-doing.

Dumbledore questioned the boy again who denied it, of course. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

Dumbledore continued to question the boy, and Minerva, of course, stood up for her protégée to the extent of glaring at Snape himself for having the temerity to question Potter's veracity. He and Minerva got on very well, as a rule. They invariably fell out over Potter, however.

Karkaroff appealed to Bagman and Crouch to overrule the Goblet's selection of Potter. Surely, Snape thought, if it is against the age line, it can be overruled and put paid to Potter's latest exploits.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"

Karkaroff made all kinds of empty threats but then, the already ugly mood in the room took a turn for the worse as Moody entered.

"You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?" Moody snarled.

"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Snape noticed that Karkaroff's hands balled themselves into fists.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but… funny thing… I don't hear him saying a word…"

Snape inclined his head to listen to the nuances of what Moody was saying. As much as he didn't put it past Potter for one instant to try for fame and glory, Moody might be on to something. But since he didn't trust Moody, what did he make of that?

"Why should 'e complain?" exclaimed the part Veela. "E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.

An extremely tense silence followed these words. There were various inane protestations, but not from Snape. He began to think through what would have been required to get Potter's name in the Goblet. For the first time this evening, he realised Potter simply wasn't capable of it. He kept silent and watched the proceedings carefully.

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet … Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…" As untrustworthy as Moody was, Snape considered that in this he might well be right: this could well have been the method. It made sense.

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember - "

Snape's breathing was deep. His senses had heightened, just as they used to be when he was spying for Dumbledore. Every nuance and gesture of both men was measured, weighed, calculated for guilt – for any trace of mendacity. He found both men wanting. Neither was to be trusted. He was convinced now. Potter had not put his name in. His vow was called upon again. Snape wondered who had done it, and for what purpose.

As they all quit the chamber, Bagman stayed for a nightcap with Dumbledore and Snape fell into step with Minerva.

"Surely, it cannot be right to say that it constitutes a magical binding contract if the boy did not put his name in?" Minerva said fretfully as they walked together.

"It is not right morally, but that is not to say that magic will not bind Potter. Crouch says it does, so perhaps we can do no more than watch it play out," Snape said softly.

"You believe Mr. Potter now then, Severus?" Minerva looked at Snape searchingly.

"Despite the general misbegotten belief that your beloved Potter is the saviour of the wizarding world," sneered Snape, "he is too much of a dunderhead to have Confunded the Goblet of Fire, so yes, I do."

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, Severus," Minerva said tartly.

Snape brought the mirror to his table in his drawing room and sat with a glass of Firewhiskey and recounted the whole story to Lupin. Not the humorous anecdotes he was originally expecting to regale Lupin with; but the story of the selection of the fourth champion. Lupin, after his initial shock at Potter's selection, listened intently to every word Snape said without interruption. When Snape had finished, Lupin downed his own glass, refilled it and spoke.

"I'm horrified by what you've told me Severus, but in a way, I wondered if something was on the horizon. Now, you know I've had correspondence with Sirius," Lupin said gently. Snape nodded curtly, never keen on the topic of Black. However, he had mastered himself enough to learn that it was better that Lupin shared his news of Black, rather than keeping it from Snape because he reacted badly. He had schooled himself to be impassive. "I am going to entrust you with this confidence, Severus, although it's not my confidence. However, I think it is vital that you know this." Snape leant forward.

"Sirius has received some letters from Harry. His scar has been hurting since the summer and Sirius has returned to the mainland to see him. Now, don't be angry!" Lupin said quickly seeing Snape's face darken. "I know where Sirius is. It's probably best I don't tell you but I am asking you, as my mate, not to breach this confidence in any way."

Snape breathed deeply for a while. He knew Black to be innocent so he was not concerned that he was on the mainland (although he very much did not want to come across him). He was uncomfortable that Lupin had kept this from him, although he understood why he had. No, that was not why his face had darkened. That scar hurting Potter was why he had scowled. He was aware that Dumbledore thought that scar was more than just a scar although he had not divulged all his thinking to Snape. All Snape knew at this stage was that the scar paining Potter often indicated the Dark Lord's presence. Surely that could not be the case? Well, he had inhabited Quirrell for a whole academic year, and Snape had missed that. Could he be possessing someone else now? Moody? Karkaroff? Bagman? It didn't sound likely if the pain happened over the summer when the boy wasn't at school. Snape would need to investigate.

"We both believe something very Dark is gathering around Harry," Lupin continued. "And his being selected from the Goblet of Fire seems to confirm it." Lupin took a deep breath. "Severus, I know you do not care for Harry, but I beg you to be my eyes and ears on this and, for me if nothing else, look to his safety."

Snape gave a small smile. He would be doing this anyway for his vow, but Lupin's entreaty at least meant he could share his thoughts and any misgivings with Lupin.

"Of course," he said gently. "But understand that I cannot help him with the challenges as a teacher, and you will need to keep me abreast of anything Black discovers from Potter."

"Yes, of course," Lupin said. They each drank, with their own thoughts.

"Severus," Lupin broke the silence. "Your Dark Mark ... have you noticed ... is it ...?" Lupin ventured. Snape had not even disrobed since he got in. He took off his robe and rolled up his shirtbsleeve and took a small, sharp breath.

"Slightly darker ... yes, not deep yet, but it is noticeably darker," Snape replied, his throat drying as he looked at his inner forearm (the conversation he had long ago thought of having with Dumbledore suddenly seeming pertinent again). "He is slowly gaining strength."

"This does go some way to explaining why Albus has brought Alastor to the school, don't you think?" Lupin said carefully.

"You believe he knew Potter would be selected?" Snape asked, incredulously.

"No, no. But you said that Albus is sensitive to Dark magic. Voldemort's is the Darkest magic of all. Perhaps Albus is sensing Voldemort's gradual return to strength and having two Death Eaters in the castle for the tournament, he thought he should load our side a bit."

"Possibly," Snape considered, although nothing would shake his belief that Moody was a danger in himself (and had already proved he was a danger to Snape).

They had talked long into the night, swapping theories about who might be behind Potter's selection and whether it was his ultimate destruction that was sought or was it something ... else.

Their minds had been far too overworked for their usual love-making during the night. The following morning, however, Lupin called Snape from the mirror next to his bed, and they cast the charm to watch the full length of each others' bodies. Snape touched the neck bite that ignited the reciprocal feelings on their skin and nerves and they spent hours together that morning, Lupin encouraging Snape to push his own body and therefore Lupin's further and further through the bites on his body delivering to himself and to Lupin erotic pleasure and fierce release.

Their love-making had a different tone: an undertone of anxiety that their relationship, by no means simple for them anyway, had just become more complex. There was now a further dimension to what Snape felt: the emotional love, the primal lust, their intellectual compatibility, the affection. Snape knew it by its taste. It was nascent fear.

"I still maintain that Potter is not obliged by any magical contract to which he is not a willing party," Snape said softly. "Since he did not put his name in the Goblet, the obligation cannot arise."

"Well, you've certainly changed your tune," Dumbledore said, with a smile.

"Lucky for you, my tune-changing has been quite beneficial for you, has it not Albus?" Snape clipped. "In any event, there remains the matter of a certain vow I made to the boy's mother's memory. We need to explore every course available to us and not dismiss it out of hand. The boy's life is now in very real danger, and no-one seems to be prepared to challenge this." Snape said, staring at Albus intently.

"Barty is adamant that Harry is bound. All that is required is that Harry's name is selected, not that he is willing."

Snape snorted softly. "I wonder if that is true. It sounds like no other wizarding vow of which I am aware."

"I agree, Severus," Albus said wearily. "I will write to the Supreme Attorney of the Wizengamot for a determination, however. I won't tell Harry though. I don't want to get his hopes up that he will be released and then find out he has missed his preparation time."

The boy was being taunted mercilessly. Snape's own House had enchanted supporters' badges in a way that was remarkably cruel. Well, he had no problem with that: there was no love lost between Slytherin and Potter. However, it was apparent to Snape that many in Gryffindor were hostile to the boy for his selection, believing him to have cheated to enter. Even Weasley, he had noticed today in Potions, was giving Potter a wide berth. If it had been another child, he might have had sympathy. Potter would turn it to his advantage though; of that he was quite sure.

He and Malfoy had had yet another pointless duel in the corridor and their spells had hit their class mates – Goyle and Granger. Snape's admittedly insensitive handling of Granger's dental predicament earned him the vocal ire of both Weasley and Potter. He punished them, he felt fittingly, and watched Potter's thunderous countenance with interest.

The brat really was an open book. Never had there been a mind so unguarded and ripe for the picking – only the lightest of intrusions yielding everything Potter's shallow mind had to give. At this precise moment in time, Potter was wishing he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse… he'd have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. Flat on his back to that brat of a pureblood! Never! Oh there were times, Lily ..., he thought ruefully on his vow.

"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking around at them all, his eyes glittering. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…"

Snape's eyes met Potter's, and the brat actually thought that Snape was going to poison him. He read the child quite clearly: Potter was imagining picking up his cauldron, and sprinting to the front of the class, and bringing it down on Snape's greasy head. Yes, he definitely thought "greasy" on top of his desire to do violence on Snape's person!

How was it possible for the child to be so idiotic? How could he be poisoned by an antidote? Merlin, Potter was thick. He certainly had intended to test an antidote on Potter: Malfoy had prepared a recipe for an acceptable long-lasting dragon saliva anti-venin that Snape thought should be helpful for the first task, just in case. However, the lesson was interrupted by Creevey summoning Potter to a photo shoot, of all things. Snape tried to ensure Potter came back for the antidote, but to no avail. Two defensive strategies: so far both failed. He wondered why he even bothered!

The full moon had come round again. It was the week before the first task and this time, mercifully, it fell on a Friday. Snape had arranged with Dumbledore for cover so that he would depart immediately after classes on the Friday so he could get the earlier Portkey again giving Lupin and him at least some time together before the moon rose, and was due to return on the Sunday morning.

He must have been distracted, keenly anticipating this time with Lupin, because, as he strode towards the gates of the castle to the Apparition point, Moody appeared without warning. Disillusioned? Snape drew his wand. This time, he would not be caught by Moody. He'd Stupefy him, if necessary, and take the consequences after the weekend.

Moody sneered at the wand. "Just exercising, Snape. Don't worry, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your little tryst." He snorted and then bent in suddenly so he was inches away from Snape's face, his magical eye trained on the bite, but his natural eye meeting Snape's stare. Snape raised his wand to Moody's neck, although curiously Moody had not raised his own wand at all.

"I bet ya just like a pert bitch on heat for that wolf right now, aren't ya," he growled at Snape slowly, savouring Snape's discomfort. "I've heard all about how roughly those beasts have at their mates at the full moon." Snape was very conscious of Moody's proximity and how much the man was trying to intimidate him physically as well as being as offensive as possible. Snape stood his ground defiantly. He'd stopped backing down to bullies years ago. "Perhaps he'll make a breeder of ya! Ha! Who would have thought it of ya, Snape," he leered unpleasantly but did not break his challenging stare with Snape although Snape's wand was burning Moody's neck now, quite deliberately, gradually pushing him away from Snape. Moody suddenly flinched as the burn went deep and pushed himself away, and laughing roughly, turned and limped back to the castle, leaning heavily on his staff.

Snape strode to the Appartion point, bewildered again at what Moody had said and done, annoyed that he had become the focus for the mad man's attention again after his absence last month. Should he tell Lupin at all? He would be hurt but Moody wasn't supposed to even have these prejudices. They probably wouldn't have either the time or the inclination to discuss it when Lupin arrived, if last month was anything to go by. It would have to wait until the next day. He'd decide then.
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You Will Not Kiss Me