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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
Disclaimer: JK Rowling & her associates own the Harry Potter universe and I make no money from my stories.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
Direct quotes from chapter 23 of GoF are in bold and © J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 38: Yule

It didn't matter how he looked at it; no matter how rational he tried to be: he hated Christmas. He hated snow. Rather, he hated children who played in the snow and who thought – albeit it remarkably briefly once they caught sight of his face – that it might be remotely amusing to throw a snow ball in his general direction.

He hated the icicles he and the other members of staff had spent hours Conjuring in delicate and filigreed patterns over the marble staircase. He hated the giant Christmas trees that he, Pomona and Filius had painstakingly trimmed. But what he really hated ... to almost Dickensian proportions of seasonal misanthropy ... were rose bushes with fairy lights.

He hated Dumbledore for putting him in charge of the rose garden and fairy light project for the Yule Ball. The man must surely hate him with a passion. Yes, he knew he was artistic and had a gift for creating perfectly proportioned things but that didn't mean these tasks should always fall to him! He hated Moody for telling Hagrid that it took "a proper fairy to trim the fairy lights so prettily." Bastard. Hagrid had shrugged and looked apologetically at Snape as Snape continued to place the fairies at the tip of his wand as if he hadn't heard. Moody wouldn't find Hagrid a willing participant in his games. Hagrid may have looked daunting, but his soul had always been gentle.

Sooner or later, there would have to be a reckoning for Moody. It was a shame, Snape sometimes caught himself thinking, that he had allied himself to Dumbledore. If he had not, he would be free to hex Moody's balls off – and he would, given half the chance. Please Merlin, give me that chance!

No! It was no good. He couldn't fight it any longer: he was furious that he had been wrong about Moody being possessed. He was angry with himself and his whole mood was sour. He had to put up with the man's jibes all the time, and there was no point in telling Dumbledore now. He had made it clear that he trusted Moody over Snape, no matter what.

On top of that, even though he'd only left Lupin a couple of days before, he missed him dreadfully. All the time. The mirror just wasn't enough for Snape. He was physically and mentally frustrated as hell. Dumbledore had ensured Snape could get to Lupin for each full moon, but had insisted Snape be at school for the Yule Ball. Snape had wanted to meet Lupin away from school for the couple of days they had together from Boxing Day, but Dumbledore insisted that, as Head of House, he had to stay at the school even then. Of course, Lupin could stay with him, but it meant they couldn't take their meals together and Snape would be on call, and that just made Snape cross.

Oh, and he had a schoolful of teenagers, hormones rampaging and bitchiness overflowing all leading up to this blasted Yule Ball. Insults and hexes would be thrown; tears would be shed; virginities lost (although not if he found the miscreants first). It was just a shame, in Snape's opinion, that heads would not roll.

He huffed angrily and glared balefully at all passersby as he strode back to his quarters. If only he could contract Dragonpox and recover miraculously on Boxing Day.

It was Christmas Day. He had seen Lupin in the mirror in the morning before breakfast. They had wished each other a Merry Christmas and recalled last year's extraordinary events with the wolf. They had lain down together to please each other but Snape wished he didn't have to wait until tomorrow to be with him. He realised his feelings for Lupin never seemed to reach a plateau: he always wanted more and Lupin was always on his mind.

"I wish you were going to be at this insufferable Ball tonight," Snape said, his temper worsening. "At least I'd have someone intelligent with whom to talk."

"If I were, would you dance with me?" Lupin said, his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for the insult.

"Certainly not," Snape drawled. "Why would you want to?" He wasn't joking. He couldn't begin to understand why Lupin would want to dance, with or without him. He'd never danced, and he wasn't going to start now.

"Oh Severus," Lupin smiled. "Please don't tell me you don't dance or that you won't dance. I insist you save me a dance for tomorrow."

"No," said Snape petulantly, feeling vaguely cross that had Lupin chuckled softly. Lily used to want him to dance with her when they were young. It was his only experience of dancing. In her bedroom, she had a small record player, and would play her 7 inch singles: New Seekers, the Jackson 5 and Donny Osmond were her favourites at that age. He didn't like many of the records she and Petunia used to play and dance to, and he certainly wouldn't dance to them! Lily's taste in music improved as she got older, but those weekends of him sitting on her bed, smiling at their daft dancing in her bedroom, didn't last once they'd come to Hogwarts but he remembered them clearly, and always with a small, private smile.

There were surely better ways of spending Christmas Day than all the staff Conjuring small tables, lit with lanterns, and covering the walls with silver frost and hanging with mistletoe and ivy garlands, but clearly not in Albus Dumbledore's mind. The staff spent most of their day preparing for the Ball, and then suddenly, it was upon them.

He stood in the receiving line of staff and dignitaries, stiff and formal, in his best woollen robe as the champions and their partners entered the Great Hall, surveying the ridiculously preening champions, bored witless before the Ball had even started.

The Veela and the Quidditch Captain – how desperate of the girl, hardly an inspired choice.

Young Diggory and Miss Chang – two Seekers – could anything be more banal? And then he thought: Potter and Miss Chang – possibly that would have been more dull.

Well now – this is interesting – the international Quidditch player has chosen none other than our very own insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire, Miss Granger. Not a beauty (Poppy had done a good job on her teeth though, Snape noted with satisfaction) nor a socialite. Did this mean there was more to Viktor Krum than met the eye? Or was he looking for fresh pickings? Hmmmm. Snape would watch him carefully. He knew his type of old and what they were after. Miss Granger was still a child after all. Well, not on my patrol of the rose bushes, Mr. Krum.

Potter and Miss Patil. It wasn't even worthy of comment, except Potter was clearly petrified by the prospect of dancing. Snape smirked at the boy's obvious discomfiture.

He looked about himself for anything of more interest. Weasley looked appalling in some misbegotten hand-me-down robes and looked stricken at his fate. Never let it be said that Snape had softened, but he felt a small twinge of sympathy. He remembered that feeling all too well. Diametrically opposed, young Malfoy, in robes that cost more than Snape's entire wardrobe and a positively ghastly frothily pink Miss Parkinson. Were they betrothed? Snape couldn't recall. His resident cretins followed, Goyle and Crabbe, sans partners. He snorted softly. Only a pureblood arranged betrothal would get partners for those two lummoxes. Unlike Mr Zabini, a Lucius Malfoy in the making, surely, Snape thought, taking in the good looks and cool confidence borne of generations of inbreeding and privilege. Of course, Snape knew that at Zabini Manor there would doubtless be, locked in a tower somewhere, a sibling with a hunchback, three legs and the head of an ant, but at least there was one sound (for this generation, at least) heir.

He spoke to Poppy, Minerva and Pomona for a while, and then Sinistra and Vector. He watched Hagrid advancing upon Madame Maxime with some interest but she floated away on a rather large cloud of lavender silk. He sighed heavily. It was going to be a lengthy night. Dinner was next and then he had volunteered (with alacrity) to patrol after the champions' dance so at least he would be spared the band.

But such time alone that Snape thought he might have to enjoy thwarting the amorous intentions of the hormonally overflowing student body was rudely shattered as Karkaroff came after him.

"Severus, you keep avoiding me," he said, challengingly, matching Snape stride-for-stride.

"Not at all," Snape said briskly as he stalked around the grounds on patrol, his wand lit.

"Why don't you stop then and talk to me?" Karkaroff said, his jaw jutting as he grabbed Snape's upper arm. Snape shook it off, angrily.

"What do you want to say, Igor?" Snape spat, standing still, straight and affronted by the touch.

"You must have noticed it?" Karkaroff said, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper.

"What? Spit it out, man! What do you want to say?" Snape jibed angrily, fed up with Karkaroff's presence.

"The Mark," Karkaroff spat. "It is darker."

"And ...?" Snape said, off hand, and recommenced his patrol, and started blasting at the rose bushes he had Conjured, sending two seventh years flying. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Dawkins, and ten points from Hufflepuff, Atkinson! Button up your robe, Atkinson!" he barked at the fleeing youths.

"He strengthens. You know that." Karkaroff said, pulling on Snape's arm again. "It's darkened since we arrived here. I don't think this is a safe place to be. We will be easy targets, Severus!" Karkaroff was sounding desperate now.

"It doesn't matter. I just don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor." Snape blasted another bush, thinking how much he would be enjoying this if Karkaroff would just go way.

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it -"

"Then flee," said Snape curtly. "Flee - I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Snape continued blasting rosebushes apart, looking for miscreants, feeling unseasonal and most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her.

"And what are you two doing?" he added, as he caught sight of Potter and Weasley on the path ahead. Snape noted that Karkaroff looked slightly discomposed to see the boys standing there and his hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger.

"We're walking. Not against the law, is it?" the Weasley brat cheeked Snape.

"Keep walking, then!" Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him but Karkaroff still followed him like a bad smell.

"He will find you at Hogwarts if you remain," Karkaroff whispered urgently.

"Yes, he will find me if he returns. This is where I will be," Snape said resolutely. "I will not run and I will not hide. I am no coward, Igor," Snape sneered at Karkaroff, and turned to walk away again.

"That depends on yer point of view," growled Moody, who was blocking the path in front of them, leaning on his staff. "Well, isn't this cosy? Two little Death Eaters together in the rose garden."

"Why don't you keep your nose out of other people's business, Mad-Eye!" Karkaroff spat with vehemence.

"Death Eaters who get off scot-free are my business, Karkaroff. I will watch. I will wait. Yer time will come and I will be there to see it," Moody snarled, his natural eye alight with something like fervour. Snape didn't care what anyone else thought: Moody was quite unhinged and nothing would dissuade him from that.

"There will be nothing for you to see. The Wizengamot has already dealt with me. Nothing more will come of it!" Karkaroff pulled his shoulders back with defiance and stalked away.

"We shall see, Karkaroff, we shall see," Moody shouted after Karkaroff. "And you, Snape," Moody turned his malicious gaze on Snape. "Dumbledore can't protect you forever," he growled deeply, for Snape's ears only. "He may not even want to any more, if yer ask me," he chuckled deeply.

"I don't have to listen to this from you, Moody," Snape clipped and went to walk past Moody who snatched Snape's left forearm, the tips of his strong fingers digging into the Mark painfully, and curled his upper lip.

"Don'cha? You know Albus won't defend you from me. You know it now..." Moody voice was a vicious whisper. He leant in to Snape. "Does yer wolf know yer out for a stroll with another lying Death Eater in the moonlight, Snape?" Moody laughed unpleasantly as his magical eye swivelled to the neck bite, then he let go of Snape and trudged off heavily.

Snape stood still, his jaw working in his barely suppressed anger, a vein throbbing uncomfortably in his temple. He couldn't deny it. Dumbledore had made it crystal clear, had he not, that Moody was unquestioned. He had humiliated Snape for Moody. Moody was continually humiliating Snape. It could well be that he had outlived his usefulness to Dumbledore. He looked at his left forearm. But he hadn't, had he? This darkening meant something. No, he didn't believe he'd outlived his usefulness yet ... not just yet.

However, he had not been exonerated as Lucius had. He had not bartered for his freedom as Igor had. He was only free, or what passed for an approximation of freedom, because Dumbledore vouched for him. Dumbledore only had to retract that and Snape would be in Azkaban. He might not even have a trial, like Black. Merlin knew what poison Moody was drip feeding Dumbledore.

Snape inhaled the frigid air deeply. When he was with Lupin, he forgot what he was. He forgot the nature of servitude he owed to Dumbledore. Lupin made him feel so alive! Made him feel as if there was something he had to live for: for them to be together. For the first time in many years, Snape realised he had something tangible to lose. Moody could cost him everything: his life, his freedom and his love. His resentment and anger burned in his gut and he strode from the grounds to await the end of the Ball when he could retire to his rooms.

Snape stormed into his room. What a travesty of a night! Bloody Moody! Blasted Dumbledore! He often wondered if Dumbledore kept him at Hogwarts for the sole purpose of tormenting him. He had especially wondered that this year. If it weren't for his vow ... And the Devil take Karkaroff and the Dark Lord!

He slammed his heavy door and Summoned several glasses and smashed them against the wall one by one. "You bastard!" he yelled to no-one in his drawing room, just for the release of shouting.

He threw himself down in his chair by the fireplace, lit the fire and Summoned his bottle of Firewhiskey, his mood as black as his furrowed eye brows. He couldn't even call Lupin through the mirror to vent or release because he was travelling. At least, he was travelling to see him. Snape's shoulders slumped. He wished he was here now. Things never seemed too bad when Lupin was with him.

"What did I do?" said a soft, amused voice from the doorway to his bedroom. Snape sprang to his feet with wand at the ready. Remus? Lupin was lounging against the door frame, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and that was all he wore.

"I arranged it with Poppy. Thought I'd surprise you," he said as he walked towards Snape, who put his wand back and stood, hands limp at his sides as his anger subsided and ebbed as he watched Lupin's smile broadening. "Not quite the Christmas greeting I was hoping for, Severus," he said, as he reached Snape and placed his hands on Snape's hips.

"You're the best Christmas present I could have," Snape said, and took Lupin's face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

"Didn't enjoy the ball then?" Lupin said lightly, as Snape released him.

"Bloody farce," Snape snarled and then the last of his agitation slipped away unnoticed. This was why he was bad tempered: because he wanted this too much.

"Want to tell me?" Lupin smiled the smile that always flipped Snape's stomach, as he pulled Snape to him and pressed his hands to Snape's backside.

"Not right now, no," Snape sighed as he started to kiss Lupin's neck.

"Nevertheless, Severus, tell me while we have a night cap, then I get to unwrap my present," he smiled as he nuzzled Snape's neck and played with the buttons on Snape's robe.

"Very well," Snape sighed and Summoned two glasses, as Lupin Vanished the broken glass from the floor and Snape removed his robe and boots.

Snape sat in his usual chair, and Lupin sat on the floor between his legs, stroking his thigh as Snape stroked Lupin's hair and told him of the events of the day. Lupin listened intently, commenting very little.

"No, don't tell me to tell Albus. There's just no point, Remus. No point at all," Snape said.

"I'm going to invite Alastor to the Hog's Head for a drink. See how he behaves," Lupin said firmly.

"Well, good luck to you on that," Snape replied shortly, his mouth a thin line. "I don't want to think of Moody now." Lupin stood and held his hands out to Snape, who stood too.

"Dance with me, Severus," Lupin said, taking Snape in his arms lightly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape snipped, moving to push Lupin's arms way but Lupin did not let him go, his arms still around his waist.

"Dance with me, as my Christmas wish," he murmured as strains of soft music could be heard. Snape thought he recognised it. Old time, big band music. He strained to hear it and it became a little louder although still no more than ghost-like strains, just playing at his consciousness.

Lupin swayed very gently, resting his forehead against Snape's. Snape had never danced before but he could see Lupin would not let him go. He put his arms around Lupin's neck and let Lupin guide his hips with his hands and he moved his feet to mirror Lupin's. In truth, it was not unpleasant and after a minute or so, he was relaxed and was quite enjoying the soft and gentle motion. As the music came to its close, he recalled it. "Glen Miller?" he asked.

"Moonlight Serenade," Lupin responded. The music finished, and Lupin kissed Snape. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape took Lupin's hand, only stopping to pick up one of three wrapped presents from his table, as Lupin picked up the Firewhiskey, and they went to the bedroom.

They undressed and Snape gave Lupin this particular present. Lupin tore the wrapping paper off and gave a small gasp and a throaty chuckle and then stared at the large jar he'd pulled from its box with a huge grin. Snape blushed uncomfortably.

"I don't believe you bought this in a shop!" Lupin exclaimed.

"I didn't," Snape said, still rather pink. "Owl order." With that, and to regain the initiative, Snape climbed over Lupin's body so that he straddled Lupin's hips trapping Lupin's cock underneath him.

Lupin laughed with delight and undid the jar and moved them both further up the bed so Lupin's back rested against the headboard.

"I can't believe you thought of this! Are you ready to be my human platter, Severus?" Lupin said, his voice deeper, his cock hardening under Snape's backside.

"I have no doubt I will enjoy it as much as you," Snape smirked wickedly, already hard as he squirmed on Lupin's cock, making him gasp and slowly close his eyes and then smile as he removed the lid of the jar and took the small spreading knife from the box and began to paint Snape's neck, chest and shoulders, deliberately slowly and gently with the chocolate body paint as Snape's hands followed Lupin's, his skin prickling to the sensation everywhere the cold mixture touched him. Then languidly Lupin swirled his tongue to lick every bit of it from Snape's skin, making him sigh at the gentle touches of Lupin's tongue as Snape ran his fingers through Lupin's hair and stroked his shoulders and back.

Lupin recharged the spreader and painted Snape's stomach and, cradling Snape's back with one arm, pushed Snape back so he could bend his face in to swirl his tongue all over the chocolate he had placed there, Snape softly moaning now, wishing the touches were stronger. Opening his own legs, Lupin pushed Snape back fully so Snape laid on his back between Lupin's legs and Lupin spread chocolate along Snape's inner thighs, this time swirling his tongue and then sucking on Snape's thighs, grasping them in his hands, so Snape groaned as heat banked hotter and hotter in his groin at the more insistent touch.

Lupin found the jar again and coated Snape's aching cock very liberally with the chocolate spread. Snape doubted he could last much longer, he had been tantalised so much. When Lupin's licked at the tip of his cock, it was all he could do not to push himself into Lupin's mouth to come, he was so desperate for release now. Lupin looked at him, Snape knew from his look he knew what he was doing to him. Lupin smiled on Snape's cock and slowed to long, firm draws of his tongue up and down Snape's shaft to catch all the chocolate as well as drive Snape wild, and his fingers had started working deep now into Snape, finding his prostate and making him groan deeply and his vision swim with pleasure.

Snape could feel himself starting to lose control as his orgasm built, as his breathing became erratic and his hips bucked into Lupin's mouth and then Lupin started to suck him greedily and hummed against him, encouraging him to move. Snape thrust his own hips, as Lupin sucked him hard and played his prostate until Snape could no longer hold back the crest of his orgasm and came fiercely into Lupin's throat with a hoarse cry and shudder and Lupin gently sucked and squeezed to drain him.

Lupin slid further up the bed and bent in to kiss Snape.

"That can't possibly go with chocolate," Snape said, barely able to catch his breath.

"The taste of you and chocolate: my two favourites. One day, mark my words, salt added to chocolate will be a delicacy, Severus," Lupin smiled at Snape, who was both appalled and amused.

Lupin gently moved in between his legs, spreading them wide and entered Snape's slick, well prepared muscles full length with a low moan. Snape stretched his arms above him, at once relaxed and excited, to hold the headrest, all his tension and annoyance now drained away as he pushed himself onto Lupin for more friction. As his arms moved, he found the jar, almost empty. He wiped his long fingers in the jar to catch the last remnants and as Lupin thrust gently, Snape put his chocolate covered fingers to Lupin's mouth and watched with mounting pleasure as Lupin caught and sucked each finger laguidly, before licking and kissing the open palm of Snape's hand and up his arm until he was kissing his neck as Snape wrapped his legs high around Lupin's waist and bucked back against him hungrily. Lupin had kept himself in check for too long and Snape could feel Lupin was very near and he bucked against him hard, taking Lupin's breath away as he moaned loudly, hardening Snape once again with hot, thick desire.

Lupin gave up trying to be tender and held Snape's hips hard and they thrust against each other, becoming more slick and breathless with each thrust, Snape's moaning becoming more urgent as he clutched at the headboard for further purchase, and Lupin grasped his cock to pump him. They were erratic in their thrusting and finally Snape could hold on no longer and cried out as he came again, and Lupin followed immediately, calling Snape's name, then breathily fell to Snape's side.

"Merry Christmas, Remus," Snape said gently, holding the exhausted werewolf.

They had woken early and Snape had given Lupin his "proper" Christmas gifts. One was a fine woollen robe, in royal blue with matching trousers for which Lupin kissed him deeply, the other was a handsome forest green leather and gold bound book of Lupin's published research papers. Lupin turned it over and over in his hands, looking nothing short of astounded.

"But Severus," he whispered in awe, "how did you ever find and collate them all?" He flicked through the tome looking at all the articles he had published world-wide on Dark creatures, whether acknowledged or anonymously.

"It did take some doing, I admit," Snape said, touched by Lupin's obvious pleasure, "but I can be ... ah ... tenacious." Lupin smiled at him hugely and kissed his forehead, still turning the book over in his hands, his eyes shining. Then he reached down next to himself and brought up a parcel and presented it to Snape, seemingly with some trepidation.

Snape unwrapped it and found an ornately carved wooden casket. He looked questioningly at Lupin who just smiled. He opened the casket to find it opulently lined, and nestled in the lining two smooth, golden arm circlets – mirror forms of each other. He carefully picked them both out of the casket and held them up to look at them. Tiny runes were etched into each – he would need his magnifying glass to read them. His breath was short. He thought he might know what these were, but how could it be?

"What are they?" Snape asked, still turning them over in the light.

"Agathonian circlets," Lupin said.

Snape looked witheringly at Lupin with one raised eye brow. "And ...?" as he waited for a proper explanation.

"Ancient Greek male bonding circlets ..."

"But ..."

"Listen to me, Severus. Agathon was a poet and runaway slave. He had a lover, Pausanias, who was a free man of Athens. They wanted to bond, but the temples said they could not without the master's approval, who would, of course, never give it. They asked the pagan earth gods to accept their offering of love and bless their bonding and offered each other these circlets as an outward sign of their soul bond. The earth gods blessed them and the bond took."

"You're saying it will work for us even with this?" Snape asked softly, gesturing to his left forearm.

Lupin nodded, "If it's meant to be ... and at least I don't have to find whatever's left of Voldemort to ask for your hand!" Snape rolled his eyes and Lupin beamed at Snape. "I just have to ask you."

"Bond with me ...?" Snape whispered as he looked at and felt the smooth gold circlets in his hands. They had talked about it last summer. He had thought it couldn't be done. Then, he had nearly ruined everything at the last full moon when he'd nearly pushed Lupin to renouncing his Claim because Snape was afraid – of what? A hypothesis. And yet Lupin had found these – a way to soul bond with a man who was not only the blood slave of a madman but who was also under a geas to another powerful wizard. If he bonded with Lupin, there could surely be nothing left of his body or soul that wasn't bonded one way of another. He wasn't sure what it said about him, but this time it would not be for power, revenge or respect; it would not be for atonement or redemption or fear. This was for nothing more or less than his love of Remus Lupin.

"Do you still want this, Severus? Will you bond with me?" Lupin asked, his face earnest and hopeful, holding both of Snape's hands.

Snape moved to sit closer to Lupin and leant his head against Lupin's shoulder as they wrapped their arms around each other. "Nothing would make me happier," he said softly, feeling his body relax and soften as he heard Lupin exhale the breath he had obviously been holding and they kissed tenderly.

They lay together in front of the fire, both glistening from their love-making, languidly stroking each other. Lupin had taken Snape as gently and tenderly as he had ever done, as slowly as it was possible and the tenderness and slowness of it had felt so deep to Snape that he had felt as if he would burst with rapture when they finally came together. Lupin would be his. A soul bond could only be broken by treachery. Lupin was no traitor and he could never betray Lupin. His heart would not leave his throat.

"How did you find them?" Snape asked, never taking his eyes from Lupin.

"Actually," Lupin said lightly, "it was Bill who told me about them." Concern flickered over Snape's face, and Lupin squeezed his side gently. "Bill knows you are my mate, Severus. He's not a gossip." Snape nodded, feeling slightly foolish. Of course, Bill Weasley would know. He'd made arrangements for them every month, after all. "When he found out you were my mate, he realised what he'd done with the counter-casting and he came to me to ask if he had hurt you. I explained what happened with your core but that we were able to heal you. Anyway, that's how we came to discuss our relationship. I told him I am very much in love with you," Snape closed his eyes to savour that sentence and that anyone could admit to such feeling for him to another. Lupin squeezed him again. A year ago, Snape could not have envisaged being anything less than furious and outraged had Lupin had discussed their intimate relationship with anyone at all. Now, he was absurdly proud that Lupin would tell someone he was in love with him. And how could he be cross, when Weasley had found this ... treasure?

"He asked if we would bond eventually. Of course, we thought it wasn't possible and, as Bill knew you had been a Death Eater, I told him why. Well, some weeks later, Bill came to me and asked if I'd heard of Agathonian bonding. I hadn't. He said he had a vague recollection of some trove he'd recovered in his early days at Gringotts when he was training in Greece and that one of the rarities recovered were Agathonian circlets. They were for male couples, one of whom was not a free man. He went look back in the records, and his recollection was right and they were still held in Gringotts' trove room. So I acquired them for us, hoping you still wanted it as much as I do." Snape leant in to Lupin to kiss him and stroke his face.

"Being Ancient Greek, either of us is free to take a wife, you'll be pleased to know, Severus, and that does not break the bond," Lupin said lightly with a playful smile.

Snape snorted. How Lucius would approve –"for the look of the thing!" He didn't need to worry about the look of the thing. The look of him with Lupin was all he cared for. If the bonding took, they would register it with the Ministry and then Lupin could live with him here, just as he had hoped. The Ministry could not deny Snape's right to live with his bonded soul mate, even though Lupin was a werewolf.

All they had to do now was to make plans for their future – their future together.

A/N: Dedicated to wrestlefan4 - for planting that idea! *hiding now*

I'm playing fast and loose with historical figures now! Pausanias (recorded circa 420 BC) was an Athenian and recorded as the lover of the poet Agathon (who was not a slave). I have used them because they were one of the few recorded examples of equality in a male relationship in Ancient Greece.
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You Will Not Kiss Me