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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
- 44
- 45
- 46
Direct quotes from Chapters 28, 35 and 36 of GoF are in bold and © J.K. Rowling

Chapter 45: Everything Must Change

The May full moon was their last at the retreat. When they met in the clearing, Snape said his goodbyes. He already had the contact details for Amelie and Jasper as their potion was now underway. He wondered if he and Lupin would ever know an ancient forest quite like this one, or know again how it would feel to congregate under the moon with a pack. He wouldn't have thought that he would care and surprised himself that he found that he did.

oooOOOooo

The following weekend, he met Lupin outside Gringotts as he returned now his contract in Egypt had finished. Gringotts had taken Lupin on as a freelance researcher, and their future was looking brighter. As Lupin approached Snape, Snape was struck how healthy he looked: so much more so than when he first saw him last year: less worn and tired, well fed, not so shabby. Snape was sure that Lupin being able to run with the moon and embracing those parts of his lupine nature in the Claim, not to mention steady work and income had wrought this tremendous improvement. He was deeply pleased. He remembered how his affection had started to blossom for Lupin in wanting to protect him. He hoped he had a small part to play in Lupin's improved health. He hoped so, and he hoped further improvement would come.

One obstacle now loomed for them, and it was something Snape had put off thinking about for so long. But now Lupin was back to stay, he would be contacting Black to see him. Snape found he was anxious about it. He still desperately didn't want to share Lupin with Black, but knew he had to. He didn't want Black knowing about them, and this seemed to upset Lupin the most: Snape's need to keep their commitment to each other away from his childhood friend. Snape had no doubt at all that Black would loathe their partnership and would do everything in his power to split them up. He felt he understood a part of Black's nature that Lupin was blind to: that part that was Black – that was pure Slytherin in Gryffindor colours. He didn't want Black in their home, but how could he prevent it? When he wasn't with Lupin, it vexed him. It was a dark cloud on their horizon that he desperately hoped he and Lupin would overcome – but he had doubts. It even troubled him that he had doubts.

Snape took Lupin to the flat he had found for them just off Diagon Alley. It was above Scribbulus Writing Instruments. Snape had chosen it for its comfort and elegant furnishings. It was to be their first marital home, albeit for a short while. He had filled the kitchen with the foods he knew Lupin liked the best, and made sure it was well stocked with butterbeer and Firewhiskey.

Snape had bought new bed clothes for the large, firm divan - crisp white cotton sheets and lush blankets and a satin counterpane, and had drawn back the bed covers, ready for them. He was nervous. Why; he did not know, but he was. This was finally the start of their life together. Lupin seemed to sense Snape's nervousness as they settled Lupin into the flat. Once unpacked, he led Snape to the bedroom and undressed him tenderly.

"Severus, we have all the time in the world now. Let's take our time," he murmured into Snape's mouth and he kissed him softly and played with his hair as they stood facing each other. Snape's arms rested on Lupin's hips and he felt his chest constrict as his desire ignited. Lupin caught Snape's bottom lip gently and Snape kissed him back just as slowly and languidly, knowing how Lupin wanted this to be for their first time in their flat. Standing together, they brushed each other's skin to ignite it, on their stomachs and chests, their backs and necks and lightly playing with the tips of each other's erections, making each other gasp, as they lowered themselves onto the crisp white sheets, cool against their energised skin, still feathering kisses on each other's mouths and necks.

Lupin laid Snape down gently and hovered over him, kissing his chest and stomach as his hands roved more firmly along his arms and down his chest and stomach, making Snape's skin prickle and raise to his touch, making him arch and sigh as Lupin stroked Snape's sides as Lupin's mouth found Snape's erection and licked it in the way Snape adored. He groaned loudly as Lupin flicked his tongue firmly along Snape's cock and then ran his teeth along his length, Snape's breath now hitching as he held onto Lupin's hair until his hot mouth engulfed him, and a low moan escaped his throat as his hot desire swelled and throbbed insistently, and Lupin sucked on him greedily as Snape writhed and threw his head back as Lupin brought him to his orgasm and drained him as he came, crying out Lupin's name in his rapture.

Lupin pulled himself up over Snape once more, his hand moving between Snape's legs, making Snape gasp again as his fingers moved inside Snape who, already slick from his orgasm, spread his legs wide to receive his husband, his throat once again obstructed, as Lupin covered him and pushed into him gently, slowly, taking as much time as he could, drawing low moans from Snape at the feel of Lupin's cock inside him, languorously moving inside him, friction of the gentlest type slowly reigniting his hot desire as he wrapped his legs around Lupin's waist to draw him in deeper. Soon this would be his whenever they wanted. Soon. They had all the time in the world, he kept thinking and even that thought made his groin throb harder as Lupin's cock drew on it, still slowly, the equal and insistent gentle rhythm almost hypnotising Snape as Lupin never took his eyes from Snape's own, seemingly drinking in every moan Snape made to the deep, thrilling thrusts.

"I love you, oh Remus," Snape gasped as he started to feel his orgasm building once more. Lupin groaned deeply as he pushed into Snape faster now, and leant in kiss him, their tongues swirling around each other's, not roughly, but longingly and searchingly, attenuating their passion, until Snape found he could hold on no longer as his orgasm started to blaze through him and he arched sinuously under Lupin, who released powerfully into him, Snape's name babbling from his lips in his cries.

Whenever we want, Snape thought through his haze of utter satisfaction, all the time in the world.

It was a dark and dangerous dream – full of menace and meaning. Something critical had stirred in his memory during the dream. This was his recurring dream. He knew he needed to identify a scent - a scent masked by another. It was important. Always just drifting out of reach. He'd reach the answer, but it would be whipped away again. This night, he'd almost shouted it out but in an instant, it was gone. He felt distress. He needed to recall it. His life depended on it. Lupin's life depended on it. He felt fear rising in his soul. He awoke trembling.

oooOOOooo

He didn't really know what he made of what had just happened. He had just been leaving the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office when he saw Potter running as fast as he could toward the staircase –

'POTTER!' he shouted, to stop the boy in his tracks, clearly up to no good.

The boy skidded to a halt and looked around. Really, the boy was a buffoon.

He beckoned Potter back towards him. 'What are you doing here, Potter?'

'I need to see Professor Dumbledore!' said the boy, running back up the corridor and skidding to a standstill in front of Snape instead. '... he's just turned up ... he's in the Forest ... he's asking –'

'What is this rubbish?' said Snape, his black eyes glittering. 'What are you talking about?' The boy was making no sense. Who was he talking about?

Potter shouted. 'From the Ministry! He's ill or something – he's in the Forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to –'

'The Headmaster is busy, Potter,' said Snape, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile. He really had no time for Potter's inane babbling, and he was sure Dumbledore wouldn't either. Why he was appearing to panic, when he plainly didn't have anything to say, Snape couldn't understand. He was just attention-seeking, as always.

'Look,' said the brat angrily, '... he's – he's out of his mind – he says he wants to warn –'

The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, wearing long green robes and a mildly curious expression.

'Is there a problem?' he said, looking between Potter and Snape.

'Professor!' Potter said, side-stepping Snape before Snape could speak. '... – he's down in the Forest, he wants to speak to you!' Well, what was the boy going on about?

'Lead the way,' Dumbledore said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind the boy, leaving Snape wondering why Dumbledore would take the brat seriously when he was just babbling. Bloody Gryffindors.

He found out later that evening that Potter and Krum had seen some Ministry official but, really, Snape didn't understand why anyone would think it important just because a Ministry official was here. He could swear Dumbledore was becoming more fey this year. He dismissed it from his mind.

oooOOOooo

The June full moon: Snape and Lupin stayed in their flat. They made love, Lupin transformed peacefully and without injury, they slept and made love again in the morning. In its way, it was their most beautiful full moon – it was their most peaceful in their new and hopeful life.

oooOOOooo

Once again, Snape was astonished that so many people had pressed to sit in the stands for this final task. There would be nothing to see except the winner at the end. He supposed it was so people could claim to have been there when so-and-so won the first Triwizard Tournament since 1792. Ludo Bagman was doing his best to commentate when there was nothing to see by taking the spectators and radio audience through the types of challenges that the champions faced and Filius conjured some magical representations of the creatures to illustrate. Only the eventual retrieval of Miss Delacour and Krum provided anything to see. Snape switched off and let his mind wander.

He was always rather impressed with himself that he could retain such a composed exterior whilst thinking quite horrendously lascivious thoughts as he was currently having about Lupin, and what he wanted to do to him when he got back to the flat when all this nonsense had finished. Lupin was waiting up for him: they had already arranged it. He fantasised about how he would like to take him, in quite extraordinary detail. The question was where. Where hadn't he had Lupin yet ? He was cataloguing the settings, deciding on the state of undress, imaging Lupin's beautifully pornographic noises he made when Snape entered him, all whilst managing to sit ramrod straight with no expression on his face whatsoever. Luckily his robe was heavy and full, for there was one part of himself over which he could exercise no such control.

His pleasingly lewd reverie was broken when a golden fountain of sparks erupted from the centre of the maze. Dumbledore flashed a smile to the staff that this was the magical cue that the cup had been claimed! Now the question was: Diggory or Potter? Snape hoped against hope it was Diggory. Potter as Triwizard Champion was more than he could bear and Lupin would be beside himself with pride. Snape sighed with weary resignation. Still, on the plus side, Remus always enjoyed celebrating physically so perhaps it wasn't all bad. Snape's mouth twitched at the corners.

Dumbledore cast the charm that opened the maze so the centre, and therefore the winner, would be revealed. With the type of showmanship that only Dumbledore seemed to muster, the heavily wooded maze began to disintegrate and pull back to leave a grand entrance all the way to the centre, the sides lighting up with stardust, fireflies and pixie lights. Snape and Minerva caught each other's look, Minerva's lips thin in scorn whilst Snape rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore and the other judges strode down the conifer corridor of stardust, fire flies and pixie lights and the teachers followed, with the press. But the centre was empty. Neither Diggory nor Potter was there and the Triwizard Cup was gone! The party stopped as if frozen. How could this be? Each person started to look about themselves, wondering if one of the creatures had made off with all three. But that couldn't be: each was enchanted by Dumbledore and Filius not to perpetrate any serious attack upon a contestant.

They started to cast revealing and location charms, but there wasn't even a trace of either boy or the cup. They broke up and started down different paths of the maze chanting their charms, but calling the boys' names too. Dumbledore and Snape set off down one path: Harry Potter revelio – Cedric Diggory revelio – nothing.

Suddenly, Snape was stopped in his tracks: an intense pain fried his very nerve endings, seemingly melting through his layers of skin to his bones. Snape's body lurched with shock and pain, and he gasped audibly. His pain-filled eyes found Dumbledore's.

"It burns!" he hissed to the wide-eyed man, grasping his Dark Mark along with the horror of its meaning. "He's back."

Dumbledore turned around swiftly now, chanting revealing and tracing incantations for Potter and Diggory more urgently.

Snape quickly cast his eye to the judges behind them: Karkaroff stared back, his eyes watering, and then he turned quickly and was gone. Snape had no doubt that Karkaroff would be true to his word and would now flee. The Dark Lord would find him and kill him: it wasn't even up for question.

Snape steadied his breathing and pulled himself upright with effort, although his arm burnt as if it were a flaming torch. He felt sweat break out all over his body as he Occluded deeper to numb the pain of the summons. Every minute he was late would be added to his torture later: this he knew.

More stable now, he re-joined the search for Potter and Diggory by all the teachers in the centre of the maze. He heard Minerva, her voice strained, "Filius has found the trace of a Portkey," and then she demanded of Dumbledore, "how was it even possible for them to have been transported away, Albus? What of the school's protective enchantments?" What of them indeed, Snape thought. Only a teacher or Dumbledore himself could activate a Portkey within the castle grounds. Snape felt sick with pain and mounting terror.

That foreboding tug he'd felt with his recurring dream was tugging at his mind now. He knew now it was something to do with the Dark Lord: how could it not be? Time passed, the teachers searched and the spectators grew more and more agitated and were starting to stream into the maze to see what was happening. There were no explanations.

Without warning, a flash appeared near the Cup podium, and all three were returned: Diggory and Potter, holding the Cup. The Cup was the Portkey. There was a torrent of sound ... there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams ... Snape couldn't believe his eyes. Diggory was dead, clutched to Potter tightly. Potter was filthy, his dirty face tear stained as he seized Dumbledore's wrist. What Snape heard next froze his blood, even though he now knew it.

'He's back,' the boy whispered. 'He's back. Voldemort.'

Voldemort had used the boy to come back that much was obvious. Then Fudge came along and all hell was let loose. The word spread amongst the assembled crowd and up to the stands that Diggory was dead – gasped it to those around them ... and then others shouted it – screeched it – into the night – 'He's dead!' 'He's dead!' 'Cedric Diggory! Dead!' He never thought he'd see such scenes at this school. Merlin knew he had seen such scenes of terror when he was a Death Eater, participating in atrocities, leaving families screaming with grief. He never thought to witness it again, and certainly never here. He busied himself trying to corral the students back to the stands as Fudge berated Dumbledore, and Diggory's father made his way down from the stands, looking frantic, and yet disbelieving.

Dumbledore intercepted Diggory, and Snape moved away, not wanting to hear what he knew was coming; what he had heard so many times before; what he had even caused. As he moved gawking children back, he heard it – the disbelieving keening and hitching of breath that inexorably became the wailing lament of the parent whose child had been wrested from it. No other sound epitomised grief so profoundly; well, none that he had ever heard.

"Severus! Minerva!" Dumbledore snapped. "Where is Harry? I told him to stay here." Dumbledore looked around himself wildly.

"Alastor took him to the hospital ward," Minerva said.

"Come with me!" Dumbledore ordered and sped away as if he were a fraction of his age.

"What is it, Albus? What is troubling you?" Minerva gabbled as she struggled to keep up with Dumbledore and Snape's long strides.

"The length of the apology I owe Severus!" Dumbledore snapped. Snape almost stopped in his tracks, until he realised the enormity of what he had just heard. Dumbledore was acknowledging that Moody wasn't Moody. Then who was he? Oh, but you know don't you? his mind said slyly. He felt something shift heavily in his mind. That nagging nightmare he'd been having. Then he knew: a Memory Charm had been worked on him and his own mind was trying to break it.

"What do you mean?" Minerva gasping, struggling to keep up.

"Severus has been trying to tell me for months that something was wrong with Alastor. I have not listened. But Alastor would not have taken Harry away from me when I said not to. He simply would not have done it." Snape wanted to feel vindicated; he wanted to crow that he had been right all along. He found his victory tasted of dust. The Dark Lord had returned – there could be no victory in that.

Snape could feel Dumbledore becoming enraged. His was restraining his magic, and Snape could feel it. "Albus," Snape ventured quietly, "I can feel a Memory Charm." Dumbledore and Minerva both stopped immediately, then Dumbledore nodded vehemently.

"I will see to it as soon as we have found Harry. Come!"

The door to the Defence against the Dark Arts office was barred. That was an irrelevance to Albus Dumbledore. He cast Bombarda against the door whilst he simultaneously cast Stupefy.

There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody's office was blasted apart –

Moody was thrown backwards onto the office floor, unconscious. Dumbledore flicked him over onto his back. Minerva tried to take Potter to the hospital wing, but Dumbledore would not allow it.

'He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand,' said Dumbledore curtly. 'Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why." Snape sneered. He doubted every word of it. Understanding could wait – treatment should be first.

Dumbledore explained to the boy that the real Alastor Moody would not have removed him from Dumbledore's sight and then removed and smelt Moody's hip flask. The shift in Snape's mind moved again. The Memory Charm was breaking and Snape was doing his best to assist the break.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens, and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.'

Snape and Minerva left them and immediately parted their ways as Snape headed to the dungeons to his Potion stores. His mind was buzzing with everything that had happened, but more so with trying to identify the memory that had been charmed – he knew it started like that recurring dream. He obtained the Veritaserum then went to his quarters and called Lupin through the mirror.

"Severus, what has happened? Harry? Is Harry all right?" Lupin cried, obviously having heard of Diggory's death on wizarding radio.

"He's very shaken. I've yet to hear fully what happened." Snape inhaled deeply. "Remus. Listen to me carefully," he said firmly as Lupin started to ask a stream of questions.

"The Dark Lord has returned. The Mark burned tonight. I have been summoned."

"Severus, no!" Lupin whispered in shock, his face draining of colour. "You must not go."

"If Albus asks it, I must."

"No, Severus!" Lupin snapped. "Why must you? Why should Dumbledore tell you to? I don't wish you to." Lupin's voice was rising now, with fear and anger. "You mustn't!"

"Because it is my function: I am Dumbledore's spy. I have vowed it. I cannot renege." Snape's voice had become dry and small. He had never had that discussion with Dumbledore about what would happen to him and Lupin when the Dark Lord returned. And now it was upon them. "You would not renege if it were your vow. You know you wouldn't."

Lupin's shoulders slumped. "You're right. I know you are. How will you stay safe?"

"You must trust me on it, Remus. I know what I am doing." Snape tried to sound confident. He was terrified. It was his nightmare come true.

"Severus," Lupin said weakly, his eyes shining. "I love you. Please don't go."

"I will be back, I promise," Snape said, running a finger along the mirror. "I love you too."

He swiftly left his chambers, and then braced himself against the corridor wall, trying to catch his breath to steady himself. He would be sent back. He knew he would be. He had to Occlude: properly and deeply. He had to bury all traces of his beautiful Lupin from the madman. He could not risk him finding even a shred of their passion. He had not gone immediately to the summons – he would be tested – torture by Cruciatus and Legilimency. His Occlumency was more important now than ever. As he made his way to the kitchens, he concentrated and rebuilt with every step he took, rebuilding all the barriers he and Lupin had torn down so liberally between them.

Snape returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind them.

"Crouch!" Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. "Barty Crouch!"

And seeing Barty Crouch, the Memory Charm snapped fully and he remembered it all.

On the night he started the mix for the Flight Potion, he had awoken suddenly to a recollection, a knowledge, a certainty – when he had been in Lupin's mind – he'd identified iron, fluxweed and antimony and there were other smells that wouldn't come to him because of the masking smell of coal tar. He knew them now: Lacewing Fly and Boomslang Skin. Lupin and he had been right. He threw off his covers and dressed quickly. He had to see Albus – right now. He grabbed his wand and swooped out of his quarters, striding, almost a lope, out from the dungeons, into the entrance hall ...

BAM!

He was awakened and quickly cast his eyes around to see his situation. Bound to a chair. In the Defence against the Dark Arts office. Moody. Polyjuice! They had known it. Who then?

"Well, Severus ..." He knew the voice, but he hadn't heard it for so many years. Its owner came into his view.

"Barty Crouch! But you're ... dead," he finished feebly, knowing the foolishness of what he had just uttered.

"Clearly not," the blond man sneered. "Too long a story to tell. But clearly not. I suppose you're wondering how I did it," Crouch said, his eyes gleaming maniacally.

"Modified Polyjuice," Snape hissed, taking in the clothes Crouch was wearing. Moody's clothes. They had known. They had worked out, and then dissuaded themselves until this night when Snape remembered that smell. But he never would have thought of Barty Crouch. He was supposed to have died in Azkaban. Barty Crouch Junior, Ravenclaw, brilliant and powerfully magical like his father. Remarkably good at Potions, Snape recalled sourly.

"What made you suspicious of me?" Crouch asked innocently.

"Your behaviour. Moody may be a mad bastard, but your prejudices – they're all Death Eater," Snape sneered. Barty Crouch was a true pureblood, but not a Slytherin – oh no. A Ravenclaw - he was clever, but repressed and utterly in his driven father's shadow. No aristocratic tendencies for Barty – even as a Death Eater, he'd made plain he thought the Malfoys of this world besmirched the honour of pureblood society with their deviant sexual tendencies, doubtless drilled into him by his father's quest to become Minister for Magic. One would never know to look at the innocent exterior of Barty Crouch Junior just how intolerant and extreme a young man could be.

"Perhaps I pushed at you too hard, eh? Made you enquire too much. Possibly," Crouch said contemplatively. "Well, boyo," he lapsed into Moody's mannerisms seeming so odd against the blond blue-eyed still relatively young face, "I have a prize to seek and I can't have you interfering. Not when we're so near." He became himself again. "Luckily, I had Potter's map. Very useful for watching where you were going. When I saw you leaving your quarters tonight, not your patrol night, I thought I'd best intercept you. Well, I was right about that, wasn't I?. You could have undermined a whole lot of planning. Now we're so very close ... then, oh yes, then... we'll see where your loyalties lie." He laughed, a bright, unhinged gleam shone in his eyes.

"Well, your loyalties can't lie with the Dark Lord any more can they? Not now you've become half-breed-loving filth. What will the Dark Lord say when I tell him, hum? Find your dog wolf and torture him in front of you I shouldn't wonder. I can't have anything happen to you yet, as Dumbledore obviously expects me to respect your feelings," he snorted with derision. "So I can't risk exposure yet. I have my mission to fulfil. Then you'll die. What to do in the meantime..." Crouch stared at Snape for a long time, and then turned his back on him and started looking through a trunk. Suddenly, he spun round, Stunning him.

As Snape was called to wakefulness, and opened his eyes, Couch yanked his hair back and in that same disorientating instant, locked eyes with him: Confundus. "Just the mention of my name will confuse you utterly, Severus. You can never reach that conclusion about me again because you will never be able to focus on me or my name or think about Polyjuice in conjunction with me."

Crucio! Applied just long enough to make Snape breathless then: Obliviate. He felt the Memory Charm working, gradually erasing the remembered scent and everything leading up to and including this meeting from his mind, even though he struggled and fought as hard as he was able, but he'd been too weakened by the successive spells.

I've had that same dream ever since, trying to recall that one smell – the smell that would break the Memory Charm, Snape realised.

Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid. ... Dumbledore forced the man's mouth open, and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the man's chest, and said, 'Rennervate.'

Then Snape listened as Crouch told Dumbledore how his mother had swapped places with him in Azkaban, both under Polyjuice and how his mother had died there; how his father had kept him under the Imperius curse. He listened as the pitiful house-elf begged him to say no more to incriminate his father. He told him how Bertha Jorkins had been unlucky enough to happen by the house when his father was not here but to hear the house-elf speaking to him, and how his father placed a Memory Charm on her. They learned of the carefully planned trip to the Quidditch World Cup, upset by Crouch becoming stronger in resisting the Imperius curse and taking advantage of an injudiciously placed wand.

Snape heard how Crouch had summoned the Dark Mark in the sky to show the Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant when they were playing at Muggle-baiting, the Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban. Snape understood now, Moody's constant harping about Death Eaters who had gone free – he meant those who had not suffered imprisonment for the Dark Lord. His father re-acquired him and dismissed the house-elf.

Then the Dark Lord came for him. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania; had learnt of the Triwizard Cup; of Moody's appointment and he found and broke the Memory Charm and found Crouch. It was now his father who was placed under the Imperius curse. Crouch was to Confund the Goblet of Fire and then guide Potter through the Triwizard Tournament to lead ultimately to him winning the Portkey that he would create, all to lead him to the graveyard. Crouch's father became more difficult to control and eventually he escaped and came to Hogwarts to find Dumbledore, to warn him.

Snape suddenly recalled how he had come across Potter and thought he was babbling – no, it was the Confundus Charm preventing him even hearing Crouch's name! Nothing Potter had said made sense but, by Merlin, it did now!

He heard Crouch tell Dumbledore of the Marauder's Map and wondered how Lupin would feel about that. If only Snape had got to it. He would have seen Crouch! He could have stopped it then! So many clues. So many hints. He could have prevented this: this violation of Lily's child. Dumbledore should have prevented this! Could have prevented this, if he had trusted my judgement, he thought bitterly.

Then he heard Crouch admit to killing his father and transfiguring his body into a bone and burying it. He looked quickly at Minerva to see the revulsion crawl over her face at Crouch's mania to the background noise of the distress of the house-elf.

Now that Snape had broken the Memory Charm, he could feel nothing but waves of relief wash over him: Crouch had been stopped returning to the Dark Lord. Lupin was safe. For now.

They were congregated in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was furious that Fudge had brought a Dementor into the castle. It had Kissed Crouch on the instant of seeing him. Minerva was angry and upset. Snape was stunned. He couldn't believe the Dementor had done this of its own volition and the more he listened to Fudge blustering his disbelief in the return of the Dark Lord, the more he realised he was right: Fudge had seen to it that Crouch would never testify. Fudge refused to believe the truth of it. It did not serve his purpose to believe: no matter that Dumbledore knew it to be true.

Everyone's sanity was impugned: from Potter to Dumbledore and he refused to listen to Dumbledore's impassioned pleas and suggestions to try turn around the situation before the Dark Lord could amass his followers once more: to remove the Dementors from Azkaban; parlay with the Giants; extend the hand of friendship to strengthen their position. Fudge was entrenched, thinking he could keep the status quo by force of his wilful blindness alone.

Hopelessly, Snape had even displayed his shamefully reinvigorated Dark Mark in the hope that it would make Fudge listen but it failed. Fudge just looked on him as a piece of dirt and accused them all of being mad. He flung the Triwizard winnings at Potter and left.

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged looks. They would have to fight without the Ministry and they both knew it. Dumbledore took a deep breath and seemed to resolve upon something.

'And now,' he said, 'it is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius ... if you could resume your usual form.'

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man. Molly Weasley created a commotion, but Snape took no notice. He had not yelled or jumped backwards, but he was furious and horrified. Yet again, Dumbledore had not trusted him to tell him of Black's presence here. And here the filthy pureblood was, in this place and Snape had had no time to prepare for him.

'Him!' he snarled, staring at Black whose face showed equal dislike. 'What's he doing here?'

'He is here at my invitation,' said Dumbledore, looking between them, 'as are you, Severus.' There was no mistaking the implied threat there that the invitation could be withdrawn, should Dumbledore choose. 'I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside you old differences, and trust each other.'

Sometimes, Snape thought the man was mad. At least, Lupin had a reason to ask this of Snape, and even then, Snape thought it was an impossibility. Perhaps if Black begged for his forgiveness, he might consider it ...

'I will settle, in the short term,' said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, 'for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope of any of us.'

Very slowly – but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill – Black and Snape moved towards each other, and shook hands, both too hard for the other's comfort. They let go extremely quickly. They understood each other well enough then. This is how it would always be.

'That will do to be going on with,' said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. 'Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while, I will contact you there.' Snape froze. He was sending Black to Lupin, without even acknowledging Snape in this – sending him to their home! Dumbledore had no business doing such a thing! His mind was turmoil. He knew what Dumbledore would demand of him, but the old man was sending Black to his husband, without a thought for his feelings. Snape started breathing deeply to control his anger. Now was not the time. He could feel himself starting to lose control and it was imperative that he did not. His life would soon depend upon that control. It was a shame that Dumbledore never seemed to consider Snape's feelings at all: no doubt, Snape thought angrily, Dumbledore would say Snape should subdue his feelings for the greater good. He sneered inwardly: damn Dumbledore and his greater good. He could torture Snape as sharply as the Dark Lord ever could by his casual cruelty and his disregard for Snape's feelings. Why was he even surprised that Dumbledore disregarded his bonding with Lupin?

Black exchanged a few words with Potter then transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door ... Then he was gone.

'Severus,' said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, 'you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready ... if you are prepared ...'

'I am,' said Snape, breathing deeply, his stomach starting to turn over. After all these years – the time had come. Time to face the madman once more. To face certain torture. He felt the blood drain from his face, and for one instant fought back a prickling of tears of fear. He subdued them. He had done this before. He was equal to it.

'Then, good luck,' said Dumbledore, and Snape noted the trace of apprehension and he swept wordlessly out of the ward, down to the dungeons and Summoned his mask from the bottom of his old trunk. He looked upon it with loathing. He had wanted to burn it when the Dark Lord fell, but Dumbledore had insisted he keep it, that the Dark Lord would rise again and he would be needed. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the mask under which he had committed murders, maimings, poisonings, torture. He turned it over in his hands, concentrating on controlling the small tremor that had set in them.

Back to that life, or to his death – that was all that was on his horizon now, and pain was the only certainty he faced in the next few hours.

His heart was full of fear. He wanted to speak to Lupin one more time, but knew he had little time to prepare. He had to consolidate the Occlusion he had begun earlier that evening. Speaking to the man he loved now would be too emotional and raw; he had to subdue it all if he wanted to protect it and save it.

He stood and made his way out of his quarters, taking that long and winding path from castle to the end of the anti-Apparition wards in his long stride, Occluding more and more deeply as he strode, his mind a blessed blank by the time he turned to Disapparate.

Snape Apparated to the Dark Mark, into a graveyard.

"Ah Severus, here you are at last," the high sibilant voice of his nightmares sang.

"CRUCIO!"

Before he could register his surroundings or could take a second breath, it was cruelly snatched from him by searing agony across his whole body as his nerves were shredded and his body started to arch and convulse erratically.
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You Will Not Kiss Me