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You Will Not Kiss Me	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 22870 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter List
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Chapter 44: Flights and Sensations

"Yes, I have all the ingredients ready. I start the first mix on Tuesday at dusk," Snape said.

"Are you excited?" Lupin cupped Snape's hand with his own and squeezed.

"I am. It is a difficult potion but I have seen it work. It will be uncomfortable at first, but it does not damage one internally, it just makes some changes. It goes without saying, the Dark Lord insisted on extensive testing to ensure his own safety." Snape's face became grim at the recollection.

"Why didn't you seek out the vampyr heart before to undertake the ritual?" Lupin asked.

"The Dark Lord forbade any one of us from undertaking the ritual. He alone wanted the ability to fly unaided. I always coveted it. After he fell, I don't believe I really thought on it; another life took me over. But then – when you started to run – I remembered it." Snape's look was distant, faraway. "Imagine, Remus – to be able to fly – no broom – imagine the freedom of it." Snape laughed softly. "I suppose you don't have to imagine – you know already what it will be like. When you run – you fly – you look so free." Snape stroked Lupin's face, and Lupin leaned into the touch so their foreheads touched.

"I would describe it to you, but I don't think I have the words." Lupin spoke softly, almost reverently, as he recalled. "When I ran with you up the slopes of Cadr Idris that time, for the first time in my life, for that night, being a wolf was the most wonderful thing I'd ever felt. I have the memory of it, but even that just cannot compare to living it. You could re-live it with me." Lupin tightened his grip on Snape's hand. "Not the transformation though ... never that ..."

Snape nodded, his throat dry in anticipation. It was long known amongst wizards that to legilimise an animal could mean being lost in its animalism. Wizards had been known to become so immersed in the alien animal instincts that they lost the sense of themselves and became unable to leave the animal's mind. Their consciousness would die within the animal, their bodies, as if Kissed by a Dementor, left behind.

But Lupin was human, and his mind when he ran was human, but the power ... that power and the senses would be all wolf.

Legilimens.

It became easier each time to slip into Lupin's mind. This time, the first since their bonding, his passage into Lupin's consciousness was instant and smooth. He felt Lupin's mind envelope him in love. It always warmed him so totally.

"Remus," his mind murmured.

"Severus. I think ... I recall ... the time when my blood started to course. You opened the door to let me run and I smelt the mountain air ... it was fresh, crisp, ozone ..."

... crisp, ozone, astringent, searing past the numerous receptors, so many more than usual, each like a small assault in Snape's mind, making his senses smart with the sharpness, mammals scurrying in the undergrowth and underground, larger mammals over ground, each type known by its smell, each animal identified and catalogued within a instant to be healthy or unhealthy, fit to eat or not. Hearing the sounds of their paws or claws and hooves scrabbling in the gorse. Smelling and identifying birds in flight, smelling their flight – how their wings disrupt their scent in the air and how the swoop of their wings sounds as if it were amplified. Edibility assessed and catalogued, all automatically by the body, by the instinct, yet he is assessing the assessment – the assessment that makes his consciousness giddy with sensory information he has never had before and he has no idea what to do with.

He is reeling with it, almost drunk with it, but his excitement mounting. His limbs ache in anticipation. His hind legs are twitching. The muscles are flexing under the hair. They tremble with want and urgency. They need – oh they need to run – to run fast – to run hard – to feel the mountain under the paws and the mountain air rushing into his lungs.

His heart – it is strong – for the first time ever, he feels it is a muscle – well-developed. It is – powerful. It is the engine waiting to pump the blood to the muscles in his lungs, in his legs – yearning to run! It builds and it builds. The tremors in his legs reminding – no begging him – to run.

He is trotting, Severus flying above. His human mind looks for Severus – he is above, he is to the side, he is at the other side. His human mind laughs wildly and it translates as joyful barking. They are running together: a wolf and his mate.

He is loping now, his gait is wide, he feels the muscles flex and pull, the tendons pistoning the bones as he picks up speed, his senses still assailed by all he smells and hears.

And what does he see? It is full moonrise, so less colour than daylight, but he knows anyway that his perception of colour – it is different. Less colour, but the contrast of things is more delineated, sharpened, focused more tightly than he could ever remember. Details of all things, the gorse, the scree, each minute thing defined with ultimate definition, his mind wants to explore – to use these acute senses of smell, taste and hearing, but this body – it must run!

His pads hit the scree of the mountainside as his leg muscles now pump and piston, out and in, and his heart! Oh that magnificent heart, it pumps powerfully sending blood coursing to replenish his muscles so they flex and pump harder as he climbs the incline of the mountain, the flank pushing out as the forepaws push away and the shoulder muscles contract and stretch. He was powering along now at full hunting sprint, the wind carding through his hair. Fast – so fast. Thirty, thirty five miles per hour. How could he bear it! Stretched, pulled, pumped, joyous. Magnificent. Smells, sights, sounds, touch, taste, wind, muscles, blood – all flooding into his brain – requiring assessment – assessment the human mind simply isn't capable of. Giving up. Giving in. Just allowing the wolf's sensations to wash over his brain as he wallows, swims, drowns in sensations of the glorious wolf.

He reaches the summit and howls to his mistress, the moon. The silvery, iridescent orb that controls his life: its light feels like sunlight on his pelt. It energises him. His body demands it! His human mind understands it. The howl starts resonating in his underbelly, up into his chest, and is torn from his larynx through his muzzle as an orgasm is torn from his human body and the noise resonates in his mask, thrummed through the bones of his face. It cannot be denied. It is the wolf's ejaculation of joy and of freedom; its signal of release. The release is enormous. There is nothing like it with which the man can compare it.

His mind is reeling with his body's feeling. He howls again then he hears Severus whoop and watches Severus turn over his broom. He leaps on these fantastically muscled hind legs to catch Severus as he flies out of the path of his leap. He leaps again to catch Severus, he feels the love and the joy in the leap as well as the strength and the adrenaline. He leaps over and over again at Severus, but the air is changing. The moon has passed its apex. His muscles and his heart – they want to run.

Each muscle tenses and then pistons as he tears of down the mountainside towards the lake, faster now on the downward trail, but still completely in control of his descent. The body has perfect confidence and assurance in its ability. There is nothing tentative in his stride as he races and chases Severus on the broom down to the lake's edge.

Snape thought his mind and body could bear no more. It was so intense. Snape inhaled hugely, trying to calm his own hammering heart and trembling limbs.

"There are no words ..." Lupin thought.

"None ... not one," Snape agreed, his mind and body still reeling, as he slipped out of Lupin's mind.

Eyes still locked, Lupin took Snape by his arms and pushed him to the floor, both men fully aroused by the triumphant animal they'd experienced together. Snape, burning with desire, bared his neck because only that would be appropriate after that recollection and Lupin groaned deeply, grasping Snape's shoulders, grinding his hips to Snape's as he tongued the Claiming bite urgently and, sense by sense, Snape lost himself to bliss.

It was odd to Snape to have Potions equipment set up in his drawing room to brew clandestinely. Of course, he would have to ensure that the Miasma Dispelling Charms were renewed at every mix and brew as he didn't want Potion miasmata drifting to him whilst he slept. The Flight Potion in particular would be quite noxious at one stage of its brewing.

He began to prepare the ingredients for the Flight Potion: thirty two separate ingredients for the first stage brew – each to be shredded, mashed, juiced, chopped, crushed, grated, diced or sliced. If he recalled correctly (and how would he ever forget it), the preparation alone would take three hours until the first mix. He had eaten in his rooms before starting. There would be no attendance at dinner tonight.

As he prepared, he pondered how it was he came to be preparing a noxious Potion in his own living quarters - as good as in hiding. Normally, he wouldn't countenance such an idea, but he found the atmosphere so inimical to him, between Moody and Dumbledore, that he wanted neither Potion discovered by either man.

There was nothing intrinsically Dark about the Flight Potion, but he was jealous of it. As jealous as the Dark Lord had been of it. Perhaps, one day, when the Dark Lord was defeated, he would publish it. Perhaps. But for now, it was just for them. It was accompanied by a blood ritual, but only the blood of the person wanting to fly. It wasn't that it was a Dark Potion, but it had the feel of it, although he didn't know why.

It went without saying that if either Moody or Dumbledore found he was brewing an Electio Potion for a werewolf, of course they would assume it was for him and he was confident that even if he put them under the Cruciatus curse, they would not be dissuaded it was for his own use: Dumbledore, because the man was cretinously romantic and Moody, because he thought Snape was a "breeder" anyway. However, if he was successful in this one, he would publish. All his refinements for Wolfsbane were published and had received academic acclaim and assured his professional reputation. And come July, his vested interest in werewolf welfare would be a matter of public record, for all to know.

This event charged him every time he thought of it – when his husband would finally be home with him. The recollection of Lupin taking him so forcefully after they shared the memory of the wolf running flashed across his mind, and his groin and stomach clenched painfully in desire as he recalled how fiercely they had made love, and how triumphant their release had been. It almost made his knees weak to recall it and he momentarily stopped grating the shrivelfig as he regained his equilibrium. He hated their separation; hated that they crammed in everything they could into a day, maybe two if they were lucky, once a month, and what they could with the mirrors.

It was never enough.

Lupin's contract with Gringott's finished in mid-May. Snape had found a flat near Diagon Alley on a short term tenancy for Lupin to use until their registration formalities had been completed. Lupin was hopeful that he had impressed Gringott's enough that they might find uses for him on a freelance basis, based in London. Of course, Snape would visit, and his visits could be more regular – daily if he could manage it, but he couldn't stay every night because he was Head of House. It would only be six weeks from mid-May until term finished at the beginning of July – just six weeks. He was counting the days.

ooo000ooo

It was a dark and dangerous dream – full of menace and meaning. Snape had struggled to wake up. Something critical had stirred in his memory during the dream. In all the preparation of ingredients this evening, culminating in the shredding of the vampyr's desiccated heart, something had awoken a remembrance of something smelt – smelt when he was in Lupin's mind looking at the meeting with Moody - scents identified – so near – ah! – just out of reach - damn – it was on the tip of his tongue ... but then it dissipated with the dream. Crucial, but gone, like smoke.

ooo000ooo

The April full moon fell on the Saturday of the Easter weekend. He had been surprised that Dumbledore had agreed to his having the extended four day weekend holiday with Lupin. He suspected some guilt on Dumbledore's part. If they had had their way, Lupin would be staying in Snape's quarters and attending meals in the Great Hall with him as his husband for this holiday, and Snape wouldn't need to leave the castle. However, since they had agreed with Dumbledore's request not to register their bonding until after the summer term, it really was the least Dumbledore could do, Snape felt.

It was dusk the day after the full moon. Snape produced the gold flask containing the Flight Potion and poured it equally between two bejewelled goblets on the table by the French windows. He then brought out his silver ceremonial dagger knife (the handle sheathed in goatskin) and Lupin produced his own diamond knife. Lupin and Snape stood facing each other and each held the other's upper arm and kissed as their hands traced down each other's arms to their hands and they turned their left palms upwards. They took each other's knives: Snape took the diamond knife and Lupin took the silver dagger and they cut into each other's palms and each released their blood into the goblet nearest to him and stirred the hissing Potion with the other's knife. Then setting down the knives, they collected their wands, holding them high, mirrors of each other, and they spoke the incantation as they performed the intricate casting over the Potions before them.

The Potions hissed and bubbled. The incantation complete, each man drank then fell to their knees as their stomachs clenched and their lungs burned. Gasping for breath, each man on his hands and knees, put their hands to their throats as they burned and coughed, almost feeling suffocated, until their breathing calmed and their lungs and stomachs eased. They helped each other to stand, steadying themselves against each other, their breathing becoming deeper and deeper still as if their lung capacities had increased immensely. Each breath became longer and deeper, slowing by increments until one breath swelled the lungs hugely and the chest expanded pushing the upper arms out.

They both whispered the only incantation they would now ever need for this: Fugere.

Snape felt it then, as Lupin undoubtedly did too: the instinct to open their arms which felt as if they were magically extended out into articulated wings, punctuated by dozens of joints. He could feel them, although nothing was visible. Snape felt the magical wings fold and rotate and envelope him as he focused on them and saw the same expression on Lupin's face. He focused on feeling the rotation of those joints and the folding of the wing's membrane and practised this until they felt under his control; until he could feel he could control the momentum. His eyes were closed now as he concentrated on the motion of the wings that could not be seen. He could feel the wings' flexible skin surface curve inward now, starting to feel the generation of lift and the magical wings gracefully swooped to create a vortex in the up stroke. He felt the lift as the wings stroked in towards his body, gracefully swooping out again as he lifted further up.

Like all dearest wishes, he was afraid to open his eyes in case he was misled, but he plucked up the courage to do so, and saw he was several feet off the floor – he and Lupin both, grinning stupidly at each other. Concentrating harder, he found he could sweep his wings ever faster so gaining lift. Now watching Lupin, they both encouraged each other to lift higher. To fly over these ancient forests, they would need to be high indeed.

"I don't think I've found anything this difficult to master since I first tried Apparition, and splinched part of my foot!" Lupin cried, although now hovering ten feet from the ground.

Snape snorted. "At least I got to see that not having the tip of my nose wasn't perhaps the attractive enhancement I might have wished for!" Snape recalled. "But I'm nothing if not stubborn, and you'd give me a run for my money when it comes to obstinacy. At least we should try to make the forest itself today!" Snape challenged.

He concentrated on swooping the wings faster and faster still and suddenly, he felt the vortex generated by upstroke bite and he had it at last – forward momentum – he swooped the wings again and, like a fledging bird, he started to move forwards albeit rather clumsily in his maiden flight. Not long after, came Lupin, undoubtedly spurred on by Snape's success.

As Snape accustomed himself to manoeuvring his magical wings, he managed to increase his speed until he had lifted himself high above the forest canopy and Lupin was now gaining on him as they both found their confidence with the new ability.

As if a revelation, their dogged perseverance paid off, and they were in full flight above the forest tree tops, wings flexing and swooping, they swooped around each other, not yet confident enough to reverse and loop, but just enough to chase each other to increase their speed, although not to fully release as too much concentration was needed to adjust to magical wings and their control. Up and on they sped, over the tree tops, now learning to swoop down and up, gaining height then slowing and lowering, then gaining height again, traversing the tree tops, not experienced enough yet to take in all the sounds and sights, still novices, but they would practise and they would perfect it. After hours in the air, and tired and aching, they flew back towards the retreat, gradually slowing.

And they landed – possibly not the most fluid or elegant of landings just before their terrace - but safe and solid and awe-struck by what they had accomplished on their first flight.

Breathless with triumph, exhilaration and wonder, they stumbled into their room, arms around each other's shoulders, and Snape fetched the Firewhiskey from the drinks cabinet and they toasted their success.

"I would imagine, Severus, that if you or I were to wear a travelling cloak whilst flying, we could easily be taken for vampires or overgrown bats," Lupin laughed.

"Just my robe normally achieves the same effect, I find," Snape said, smirking.

By the third glass, Snape had undressed them both and they were kissing passionately then bruisingly on the bed, physically and mentally excited, overwrought and painfully aroused once more as their hands grasped each other urgently and they rolled each other over, straddling the other in turn, still twisting over and over until they faced each other on their sides, each grasping the other's cock firmly whilst their free hands searched each other's opening, moaning in each other's mouths as they excited each other with thrusting fingers and firm grips stroking, neither conceding yet who would take the other.

However it was to be this night, it would not be tender whilst their excitement still coursed hard in their veins and magic coruscated across their skins heightening every sensation.

Eventually, as they writhed against each other, Snape, so empowered by his magic and magnified by the success of it, pinned Lupin, growling, "Let me!" as his fingers thrust hard into Lupin's now slick opening making him cry out as tendrils of Snape's magic shocked Lupin's prostate, and Snape turned him quickly onto his stomach and thrust into him hard with low grunt, holding Lupin's shoulders down. Lupin managed to get himself onto his knees allowing Snape deeper access, making Snape groan loudly as he thrust into Lupin hot, slick muscle, with grating friction and searing magic along his cock, making them both burn.

Lupin groaned with enhanced pleasure and climbed the wall so he was braced against it as Snape insistently thrust hard into him making the angle to his sweet spot easier to hit, Snape's passion white hot now as he held Lupin, his left arm tightly around his hip, holding the inside of his thigh as his right hand grabbed his cock once more to stroke him in time whilst he drove deeper and harder into Lupin's sweet, tight muscle. Snape's hips were moving fluidly now as he rolled into Lupin, as he sucked and bit on his neck as he listened to Lupin's moans of pleasure mounting as Snape thrust hard until he reached a fervent rhythm against the thrilling reverberation of their magic in their cores, and Lupin pushed back with urgency as his groans became louder and his arms trembled until Snape's mind began to unravel as Lupin cried out Snape's name repeatedly and he came fiercely under Snape's hand and he clenched hard around Snape's cock so he lost his rhythm. Snape's orgasm pitched and peaked and it astounded him with its strength. He held Lupin tightly around his waist as he emptied into him, groaning loudly, Lupin holding his arms until they collapsed on the bed, entirely spent.

Both men lay side to side, panting and stunned by their success and their passion, the tips of their fingers just touching as the final, small sparks of magic died away.

"How far will we push our magic together, Severus?" Lupin rasped, still breathing heavily.

"We've got the moon and the sky. Together, Remus, I think as far as we want."

ooo000ooo

It was a dark and dangerous dream – full of menace and meaning. Snape had struggled to wake up. Something critical had stirred in his memory during the dream. He knew he'd had this dream before – it kept recurring. He knew he needed to identify a scent - a scent masked by another. It was important. But it was out of his reach – so near – but always moving away every time he got near. But it was on the tip of his tongue ... but now it dissipated with the dream. What was he missing? It was tormenting him.
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You Will Not Kiss Me