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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
- 49
- 50
- 51
Chapter 50: Spinner's End

They met at the flat at lunchtime. Tippy had provided lunch. Snape ate, but Lupin wasn't hungry and he was fractious and argumentative, more so than usual for a full moon. The reasons soon became apparent.

"When we spoke through the mirror, you didn't tell me you were summoned to Voldemort after we left here on Saturday. Why?" Lupin snapped as Snape finished his lunch.

"He didn't hurt me. I didn't want to worry you as I was unharmed and I reported fully at the meeting. When we spoke, we had better things to ... do. I .. I .." Snape tailed off as he saw Lupin's eyes narrowing. Snape felt a flush of embarrassment mixed with shame. He hadn't meant to hurt Lupin, he just hadn't wanted to worry him. The look on Lupin's face showed him he had been mistaken. He didn't like this change that happened in Lupin's personality on the day of the full moon, even though it was part and parcel of the behaviour that drove Lupin's feral lust that Snape so craved. It was his duality.

"I don't want to find out with everyone else, Severus. I am not everyone else," Lupin barked, then inhaled sharply and looked off into the distance, his top teeth biting onto his lower lip.

"You know I meant nothing by it," Snape said, placatingly. "I will tell you first in future. Will you do the same?" he added.

Lupin nodded, sighing again, and they fell into silence for a while. Then Lupin seemed to soften. "I'm sorry about Sirius," he said. "I know he's difficult to deal with. A big kid really. I don't think Albus's Memory Charm took properly and he knows there's something between us. It's making him angry. I think it would be better to tell him, but Albus says not." He emitted a soft noise of annoyance. "It's all well and good for him to say that. Albus has forbidden Sirius from leaving the house. That's gone down very badly so Sirius is already like a caged animal and he'll only get worse as time goes on because he has nothing to distract him from worrying at half a memory. And now, I've told him I won't spend the full moon with him in his animagus form. He's upset and angry." Lupin exhaled heavily and looked off to the distance again then turned to Snape, his eyes intense.

"Sirius used to look after me at the full moon. I mean: he really cared for me, Severus – he learnt everything about werewolves to understand me, learnt healing spells for me. Of course, it was also an enormous rebellion for him to be friends with me, a half-breed – his little gang of a blood traitor, half blood and half breed, and Lily made a Muggle-born too!" He laughed softly. "But there was genuine kindness there too," Lupin said, wistfully. "He thinks everything should be the same as it was fourteen years ago – that we can just pick up from there. He thinks I'm betraying him by not running with him."

Lupin leant the side of his face against one hand. He looked tired and stressed, rather than harsh now, his eyes sad.

Snape felt his insides burn with jealousy that he tried to disguise. "Do you want to run with him, Remus?" he asked quietly, almost fearing the answer as surely the wolf must prefer the company of a mutt if they were to run.

"Before my friends became animagi, I was incarcerated at the full moon, and I tore myself apart. I feared every full moon for the unremitting pain not just of the transformation but of the injuries I would inflict on myself in my imprisonment. They became animagi so they could run with me – so I would be in the open air and distracted and then wouldn't hurt myself when I was the wolf. They were unsupervised and unregistered. It was dangerous for them to even attempt it. What my friends did for me at school was the greatest kindness friends could do for someone like me. Do you understand that? The risk? The kindness?"

Snape affirmed quietly, afraid what might be said next: that the debt of gratitude Lupin owed Black was greater than their love.

"Severus," Lupin said, his face gentling as he held Snape's chin, "I will never forget how wonderful that was for me at that time: my first friends," he said, a soft wistful look on his features, "and getting through the full moon without too much pain. But life moves on. Boys become men. Cubs become wolves. Nothing will ever replace being with my mate at full moon. It is what I am designed for. It is what I now live for – this time with you. I never dreamt that my full moons could be a time of joy for me, until I had you."

Snape not only felt an immense wave of relief wash over him and his heart fill with joy, but also the distinct shift in the air that brought the change in Lupin as he watched the harshness and weariness leave his features fully, and his body lose its weakness and fill out. The moon was rising and Lupin moved in closer to Snape, looming over him. Snape could smell his scent becoming stronger.

"If I had a wife, a little woman that Sirius could relate to, he would be understanding. That it is you is going to be hard for him when he eventually finds out. But it's not optional, Severus. He will have to learn." His mouth enveloped Snape's hungrily as he held Snape by his shoulders and took him to the floor.

The next morning, after Snape had taken Lupin gently after they had bathed, and Tippy had provided a breakfast fit for royalty, they discussed that which had upset them both so much at the Order meeting: that Lupin was to find and run with the feral wolves. In a matter of days of enquiries amongst other werewolves of Lupin's acquaintance and intelligence Kingsley and Tonks had passed on, he had located a number of packs.

"I'm going to start with a pack that runs out of the New Forest. It's twenty strong. I've decided to go tomorrow. I suppose there is no reason to delay." Lupin looked very unhappy but resigned.

Snape felt his mouth dry out. "How long ..." he croaked, then coughed. "How long will you be gone?"

Lupin sighed heavily. "I don't know. I can only play it by ear. Ideally, I want to be back in time to take my Wolfsbane. That's certainly my plan. I will have to be back with you for the full moon, or we will both be ill again ..." Lupin ruffled his own hair and drew his palms across his face. Snape saw the traces of worry line Lupin's face.

"That long?" Snape gasped. Lupin nuzzled Snape's neck.

"As long it takes I suppose to try to talk to the leader, assess their loyalties, try to persuade them. But ... oh Severus ... I don't want to go." Lupin screwed his eyes shut as if the admission cost him real physical and mental effort. "Do you think me very weak?"

"No," Snape said quietly and pulled Lupin's hands to him. "How can you think it?"

"You go before Voldemort, knowing what he could do to you. You do that for us. You are so very brave, it breaks my heart." Lupin took his hands from Snape's and cupped Snape's face in his hands. "And yet, here I am scared when I don't yet know what I'll face. That must make me a terrible coward."

"Not a bit of it Remus. Sometimes, the unknown can be far more frightening." But Snape wondered how much of it was unknown. Lupin had run with the wolves before. He had been beaten on more than one occasion. Some packs allowed their Lycanthropic nature to dominate them and were violent and aggressive, dirty and animalistic; not all, but some. Snape understood that Lupin would find it difficult to be with those who represented how his life could have been. Some packs were only a scintilla away from being in the Dark Lord's service and would react very badly to infiltration. No indeed, he thought Lupin was frightened for very good reason. He feared for Lupin's safety more than he feared for his own.

It had been five days since Lupin had left to find the pack in the New Forest. Snape had had a brief conversation with Lupin through the mirror on the first night, but had heard nothing since. He had fire-called Dumbledore, but he had heard nothing either. It wasn't long, but they hadn't been out of contact since they'd had the mirrors, except for that one argument over Moody. He kept the mirror on him at all times and kept looking at it, as if by looking, it would will Lupin to speak to it. He was feeling sick with worry.

Now, for the sixth day running, Tippy had prepared his meals unbidden again. Snape knew it would be Dumbledore's orders and he found it intrusive.

"What is the meaning of this, Tippy? I have not ordered breakfast," he said shortly as he came down to a table laid for breakfast, with cereal, toast, conserves, juice and tea.

The small house-elf wrung her fingers in the hem of her Hogwarts tunic. "Headmaster Dumbledore says Tippy must see to it that Professor Snape eats properly." Her wide brown eyes gazed up at him apologetically, as she shuffled from one foot to another nervously before his black-eyed stare, just like any first year student.

He hated the old man's interference, but knew he was more than capable of forgetting food all together when he was here at Spinner's End, and now he worried about Lupin constantly, he was even less likely to think of calling the house-elf. Could he really blame Dumbledore at all? And this poor scrap before him: if he didn't let her off the hook soon, she would start punishing herself in the alarming manner of house-elves. He allowed his expression to soften before the small house-elf wore holes in her tunic.

"A compromise then: I will take a light breakfast and a cooked dinner each day. No pudding. I prefer not to take lunch. Return to Headmaster Dumbledore and say this is Professor Snape's compromise. Go now." Tippy popped away and Snape exhaled heavily and sat at the small table and made a reluctant start of the cereal and toast, although really only interested in the tea.

Tippy returned and bowed low. "Headmaster Dumbledore says you are a wise man and Tippy is lucky indeed to serve such a powerful wizard and ..."

"Tippy. Enough." Tippy bowed her head, abashed, then raised it slowly.

"Professor Snape, sir?" she said, her voice tremulous.

"Yes, Tippy." Snape was pinching the bridge of his nose, readying himself for some elfish nonsense.

"When Master Lupin returns, will there be pudding again?" she asked in a whisper. "Tippy is very good at making pudding and has a new recipe for chocolate pudding with chocolate sauce especially for Master Lupin."

"Yes, Tippy," Snape replied gently. "There will undoubtedly be much pudding. And lunch. And probably brunch and supper too. Run along now."

Snape closed his eyes. They felt so dry. There was certainly nothing sweet about life without Lupin. Snape missed him so very much. Lupin's silence scared him.

oooOOOooo

In the small cellar of the house that served as Snape's summer Potions laboratory, Snape had several cauldrons on the go, either bubbling, simmering, steeping or stewing and one – one special one in the corner was in stasis. It was the second batch of the Electio Potion, the first having spoilt when he had tried too many modifications. He had pared those back and was now looking at the prettiest potion he had ever seen: it was lavender but with an opalescent lustre. It smelt of Lily of the Valley, which had surprised him as it was fragrant in a way most conception potions were not.

He liked to look at it. It was an achievement, although only he and Lupin would now know that it was his achievement. Now their plans had changed and Amelie and Jasper had been Obliviated by Dumbledore, Snape's involvement would be as just an anonymous apothecary and Lupin would be the go-between. Snape found he was quite disappointed.

He busied himself with making enormous quantities of the Potions required by Poppy for the infirmary. It's what usually he did in the summer: how he filled his day. Not last summer though. Last summer, he'd been in St. Mungo's for some of it and then with Lupin. He closed his eyes to remember some of those glorious days when he had almost felt free.

When there was no more to do for the day, he changed into Muggle jeans, T shirt and trainers and went for a walk. He didn't particularly like walking in Spinner's End, but he found he couldn't concentrate on reading anyway.

The area of Spinner's End wasn't a salubrious one and Snape a cast a notice-me-not spell so the rougher elements he would undoubtedly come across would not take issue with his presence. It had never been a good area, but before the manufactory closed in the early eighties, there had been full employment of the local men and youths and many of the women. It was no place that a wizard could fit in, but there were no disaffected youths roaming the streets, no drug addicts, no homeless waifs and strays. Nowadays, very few people had jobs, the area had become depressed and almost derelict and at the mercy of drug dealers and the route of prostitutes. Snape didn't care. He just wanted to avoid them all.

oooOOOooo

He walked around the playground: the roundabout, the slide, ah ... their swings. Tufts of grass grew through the eroded concrete of the disused and condemned playground. Of the two swings, that from which Lily had flown was broken and tied up on the frame above. Snape stared at the sacred relic of his childhood – of this one of his most cherished memories. He sat on the remaining swing – his backside still narrow enough to fit the child's swing seat, though his shoulders no longer did. He rocked gently, backwards and forwards recalling their times here that first summer and summers after, back in the days when municipal parks were important and park keepers patrolled them, turfing out tramps, bullies and ne'er-do-wells from the park grounds.

Now, no children were allowed to play without their parents' supervision and protection: too much to be scared of. For Severus Snape, it was his father he needed protection from. He looked at the discarded needles and burnt foil and condoms on the ground around him. How had it come to this that no-one cared for a children's playground because parents were too scared to let their children play? The world made no sense to him. He swung on the swing wondering where Lupin was and was he safe?

oooOOOooo

He Floo called Dumbledore again, but there was still no news. He had barely slept since Lupin had gone to run with the wolves. He was desperately tired, but his mind simply couldn't be calm every time he laid his head down. He paced the house, drank far too much camomile tea. He still couldn't read, because now he couldn't focus.

It was now the seventh night, and finally he managed to drift off to sleep because his body finally failed him.

He was swirling in green. Turning over and over in deepest forest green. He was deep in undergrowth. He felt the brush of leaves and moss against his skin. He smelt the damp earth and the flora. He heard the scurrying of small creatures. He smelt blood. Coppery on his tongue. He smelt the tang of fear. He tasted it. The taste of Lupin's fear. The taste of Lupin's blood.

Snape bolted out of his bed, bathed in sweat, his breathing harsh and his heart hammering. Lupin was injured. He sent him the dream to rescue him. How to find him – how? He stopped still and breathed deeply and hauled on his trousers and boots, and strapped a wand holster to his arm.

"Tippy!" he shouted. The house-elf appeared, wide-eyed, as he knelt in front of her tucking in his shirt and pulling on his robe, cursing himself for forgetting what should have been obvious. "Are you able to find Master Lupin? Can you Apparate us to him? "

"Yes, of course, he is one of my Masters," she said and took his hand in hers and they Disapparated.

They Apparated, but without the crack of wizard Apparition, softly and quietly. It was as black as pitch under the canopy of trees and smelt exactly as Snape had dreamt. He crouched low with his wand and enjoined Tippy to stand behind him.

Remus Lupin revelio

A faint glow appeared just two feet away and Snape crept to it to find Lupin bound to a large oak tree. His hearing accustomed now to the forest sounds, he heard some snoring around him. He asked Tippy in a whisper if she could see them. She told him where each and every person was. The pack was indeed twenty strong.

Lupin had been very badly beaten and was unconscious. Some of the injuries were days old. These weren't injuries caused by his transformations, so they would heal no faster than anyone else's. Snape silently cast Diffindo at his bonds, but before Tippy could creep forward to transport them, one of the pack awoke and starting raising merry hell.

"Hoi! Hoi! You there! John! Malcolm! Octavius! Some bastard's trying to take the turncoat Were! Everyone! Roust yourselves! Get them!" By the time this commotion was finished all the pack had awoken but Snape had Disillusioned himself and was about to do the same to Tippy.

"No Professor Snape. Make Master Lupin invisible. Tippy can do this for herself!" She vanished before his eyes and started firing Repulsion Jinxes at any of the pack that started to cast or move against them with a speed and force that shocked Snape, but for which he was grateful as she sent the pack members flying, one by one as Snape quickly Disillusioned Lupin and cast a Featherweight Charm on him and lifted him over his shoulder as he cast Protego around the three of them and Summoned Lupin's belongings, which came from the bedding of the leader.

"Now Tippy! Spinner's End," Snape commanded in a harsh whisper, and Tippy transported them home.

They Apparated into Snape's sitting room at Spinner's End. Snape removed the Disillusionment Charm from Lupin and himself and carefully laid Lupin on the settee and checked his pulse and his wounds by eye, hand and wand and then gently spelled away Lupin's torn clothes as the little elf stood next to him, wringing her hands.

"Beloved, you are safe," he whispered to the unconscious man. "You are home." He kissed Lupin's forehead lightly then cast a spell to check Lupin had received no head injury worse than it appeared, and all appeared well.

"Tippy. Run a bath for Master Lupin. Add essence of rosemary and hyssop and the lavender bruise oil. Then go to my Potion store in the cellar below. Fetch the Blood Replenishing Potion, Bruise Balm, Pain Relieving Potion, Nerve-Gro and Internal Injury Potion and bandages. The house elf left and Snape cleaned each cut, abrasion and graze with his wand and sealed all the open wounds, making soothing noises as he worked. He repaired two broken ribs and the broken bones in Lupin's hand where he could see from the abrasions that someone had ground their boot on his wand hand. He then fixed the dislocated shoulder and wrist and quickly checked there were no other injuries.

How Tippy had managed to fill the bath in the short time it took Snape to Levitate Lupin to the bathroom, he could not guess, but he gently lowered Lupin in, and threw off his own robe and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and cleansed Lupin of all the caked-on mud and filth, talking gently to him all the time. Tippy returned with all the Potions and stood by Snape to hand him clean sponges and flannels as required. When the water was filthy, Tippy, without bidding, emptied the bath and re-filled it on the instant so Snape could finish cleansing Lupin and then washed his muddied hair gently. He Levitated him out of the bath and Conjured a cushioned sheet to the floor and dried him there, and then applied the balms and salves before giving him the Potions. He Levitated him to his bedroom which, extraordinarily, Tippy had managed to change the bedclothes in the time it took Snape to bring Lupin there and softly deliver him into the clean, cold sheets.

As Snape tucked him in, he realised the elf had said nothing but acted on every command and instinct. He turned to her and whispered, "Well done, Tippy." She smiled weakly at him.

"Will Master Lupin be well soon," she whispered.

"I hope so," Snape said, and in so saying, as Tippy left the room, he felt his strength drain from him, and he slid onto the floor and held his face in his hands, his hands that had the trace of a tremble of fear in them now. He had been so scared, so scared he would lose Lupin. But he'd found him - Tippy had found him.

He heard a faint pop, and Tippy reappeared before him with a mug of tea. Snape realised he needed to enjoin the elf to secrecy. No-one, not even Dumbledore, would remove Lupin from him, not until he was well.

"Tippy. There are people who would hurt Master Lupin," Snape said to her, in the kindliest voice he could muster. The elf's eyes became very wide indeed. "We need to keep his presence here a secret. Do you understand? You must tell no-one, no-one at all that Master Lupin is here." The elf nodded her head.

"Tippy is bound to her magical gentlemen. Professor Snape has ordered Tippy to tell no-one. Tippy shall be silent." She nodded her head resolutely, and Snape felt a small sense of relief and turned to looked at the injured man unconscious in his bed.

"Professor Snape, sir?" Tippy looked around the room appraisingly. "Where will Professor Snape sleep? There is no room."

"I'll manage with a chair, Tippy. I need to watch over Master Lupin until he wakes."

"Tippy could clean the other bedroom, Professor Snape, sir, so both Masters can sleep," Tippy said innocently, looking up into Snape's face.

His parents' bedroom. He had not even entered it when his mother died. It was almost as if he had obliterated it from his mind. He was never allowed in it when he was small, and he never went there, not even now. It was an unhappy room. It was the shut door that was never opened to him, and that now he didn't want to open. He didn't know when he was young what those loathsome noises behind it meant, noises like an animal and the demented squeaking of springs or why his mother begged his father "No! Please don't!" or why she cried. He understood as he got older what they had meant, when he himself had cried out for mercy in the same way in abandoned rooms at school, and had been ignored the same, but by then the hated noises at home had stopped.

How could he put his beloved Lupin in that room that where that filthy Muggle brutalised his mother? He didn't think he could. Then he looked at Lupin, looking large and uncomfortable in his narrow childhood bed. Would he always be haunted by these ghosts? Wasn't this his house now? Shouldn't he make the man he loved comfortable rather than dwelling on the odious past?

"Let's go and look," Snape said quietly, dreading opening that room that had been closed up for so many years.

The door creaked open under his hand and the little elf cast a charm to oil the hinges. It was a just a larger version of neglect of his own room. Threadbare carpet covered the uneven floor. Yellowed nets hung at dirty windows. Heavy curtains hung, heavier with the grime of years past and not quite hanging evenly. There was an old metal bedstead, and old blankets with a quilted counterpane. Two wooden bedside cabinets, one huge 1920s wardrobe and a dressing table with a three paned mirror. Everything was smothered in dust and cobwebs and the air was stultified. The little elf peeked around Snape's legs.

"Tippy can clean it by tomorrow, Professor Snape. Like a shining pin. A nice clean room for Master Lupin to recover in." He looked down into her earnest brown eyes, pleading with him to do what she did best.

Snape walked to the bed and was going to open the bedside cabinet, but then he realised that he didn't want to know who had slept on which side of the bed in this room. He wanted no history here. He found his chest was constricted and his breathing shallow thinking of it.

"Throw out every item of clothing you find, Tippy. Burn all the bedding and destroy the bed. Clean the rest of the furniture, and put anything else in a box, and I'll sort through it when Master Lupin is better. I will purchase a new bed and bedding tomorrow."

"Very good, Professor Snape." She popped away and Snape went back to his own room and sat on his old stool by the bed. He took Lupin's hand in both his hands and laid his head on them, shutting his eyes tightly, thanking Merlin for Lupin's safety.

He sat his vigil by Lupin's side. Tippy brought him drinks and his breakfast and then later, his dinner. She spelled Potions and liquidised foods into Lupin as instructed by Snape. He only left his vigil to visit the bathroom and make Floo calls to Dumbledore to enquire if he had heard of Lupin's whereabouts keeping up the pretence of not knowing for now, and then to a wizarding furniture store. The purchases having been made by Floo call, a delivery boy brought the shrunken items in one package through the Floo and departed, and the wards were re-set. Tippy took charge of the packages and Snape returned to Lupin's side, holding Lupin's hand to his face, meditating by his side.

As dawn came, Tippy presented herself to Snape to tell him the room was ready.

Snape gently placed Lupin's hand by his side, and followed Tippy to the front bedroom and stood in the doorway, stunned. It certainly was as clean as a shining pin. The walls and woodwork had been scrubbed and then painted. The threadbare carpet now had colours visible, the nets were white, the windows gleamed, the curtains were the original green colour. The wooden furniture looked reinvigorated, and the new bed, a outsize modern divan, was installed facing the windows, with the new bed clothes on it. The air in the room was fresh and clean.

"Well done, Tippy," Snape croaked, a lump in his throat obstructing his voice. "Turn the bed down and we'll move Master Lupin so he'll be more comfortable."

When Lupin awoke, he looked wan and tired. Snape didn't know if he was imagining it, but he was sure that there was more grey in Lupin's hair than before. Could that be? Just three months ago, Snape had congratulated himself on how well Lupin was looking and now it all seemed to have reversed. It upset him.

Lupin was weak at first, and Tippy flapped and fussed and busied herself making all manner of soups and sweet drinks to tempt Lupin to eat. Of course, he didn't need much temptation, just a little help, which Snape gladly gave.

"Do you want to teach me that feeding spell for invalids?" Snape smirked as he helped Lupin with some vegetable soup.

They only talked briefly before Lupin slept again. Lupin had wanted to know how Snape had found him, He had not purposely sent the dream but had subconsciously managed to send the message to Snape through his dreams. He was very impressed that Tippy had found him with pinpoint accuracy.

"—But then I'm not an authority of house-elves. They don't tend to be bound to poor half-blood families like the Lupins," Lupin said softly.

"How does one reward a house-elf without unwittingly dismissing her and driving her to despair?" Snape asked, thinking of the poor wretch, Winky.

"It's about recognition and self-worth. I have an idea, Severus. Leave it to me," Lupin smiled.

Lupin was sleeping again now, and Snape knew he was over the worst. He left him to do some brewing. He would have liked to have said his heart was lighter, but the thought of Lupin going under cover again was disturbing him. Dumbledore asked too much, just too much.

oooOOOooo

Later that day, Snape called for Tippy and announced to her enthusiastic face and, yes, Master Lupin would very much like a cooked dinner.

"Would Master Lupin like pudding too? Chocolate pudding with chocolate sauce?" Tippy asked, rapturously, clasping her hands together in hope.

"Yes, Tippy," Snape said confidently, "I believe Master Lupin would very much like pudding."

Much as he didn't want to, now Lupin was recovering so well, Snape Floo-called Dumbledore to let him know that Lupin was now with him. Dumbledore questioned the wisdom of it. Snape walked away from the call. He wanted to be disgusted, but he knew that Dumbledore was right. There was no Fidelius Charm on this house. The Dark Lord and all the Death Eaters knew of this place. Its only saving grace was that most Death Eaters despised his family home. There was an element of safety to their disdain.

As they ate, Lupin told Snape of how he had found the pack and asked to join, just as he had done so many times in the first wizarding war. Back then, he had never had problems joining a pack – as long as he didn't challenge the alpha in any way – it would normally accept another runner. This time had been different, very different.

"I looked down at heel. No change there then," he nudged Snape and gave him a small smile. "I met some of the peripheral betas and they were fine, perfectly welcoming. The first night went well. I slept on the periphery with the others. The next day, they took me to meet the alpha. The game was up straight away ..."

"But how ...?" Snape interjected.

"It was the smell of long-term Wolfsbane usage on me: the mark of a wizarding collaborator. When I ran with the wolves in the last war, there had been no Wolfsbane. We had not factored this into the planning. I was set upon straight away. I never even had the opportunity to speak to him. Greyback had beaten me to it. Promised them legitimate wands, repeal of anti-werewolf legislation, to be given free rein at the full moon ..."

"Nonsense, the Dark Lord would never keep those promises ..."

"We know that, but, well, it's difficult to convince the packs that the status quo is better for them than Voldemort when the status quo is stacked against them. If I'm going to have a hope to convincing other packs, I have to decide whether I am prepared to go back to transformations without Wolfbane." Lupin's voice faded and his eyes were glassy with distress. "I won't run free at the full moon without Wolfsbane though. No-one can ask that of me."

Snape didn't want to undertake the task he'd set himself, but Lupin was sleeping, and well on the mend. So, he had promised himself that whilst Lupin slept, he would go through the box of things Tippy had taken out of his parents' bedroom. There wasn't a huge amount. His mother's old school trunk was in the loft, and all the books that had been worth keeping were already on the bookshelves in the sitting room.

His father's bifocal glasses; oddments of meaningless paper and receipts, pins, nails, a paperclip, buttons, a note pad, string, nail clippers, a rancid bottle of after shave, and a chewed pencil. He picked up the glasses and turned them over in his hand. Why hadn't his mother thrown them out after he died? Why would she keep them? A pill case; his mother's reading glasses; a compact mirror; safety pins, all sorts of ribbons, a small jar of vanishing cream (that didn't vanish anything – how odd Muggles were – he wondered why his mother had it). A small album. A Muggle photograph album. He had never seen it before. He suddenly realised his was holding his breath as he opened it.

His parents' wedding day. His father, young, handsome in a rough way. Rugged, he supposed. His mother, not pretty, but striking with his own colouring. Palest skin and black limp hair, darkest eyes. No, not pretty, too slim – except for that bump. Snape's mouth thinned. He hadn't known. But they looked happy enough. He didn't remember ever seeing either of them smile so broadly. He stared at the photo for a long time: this happy, striking couple. They were people he didn't know at all. He turned the page.

He snorted. Baby Severus. Oh dear. He was surprised he should have so many rolls of fat. He was lying on a settee, a new version of the one in the sitting room. He would guess he was about six months old, in knitted clothes, his black eyes huge and wide, not much hair, his little fists curled and his countenance really too severe for a baby. He turned the page.

He would be about one, he thought. He was sitting upright, his back to the camera, his head turned to the side, called by the photographer. Large black eyes looked through long lashes, his dark hair mopping on his head now. There was the faint trace of a crooked smile on his chubby face. He turned the page.

He would guess at three or four. Much slimmer now, in shorts and an odd little shirt, his hair longer, knobbly knees. No smile at all, he noticed. His mother was squatting next to him, her long fingers around his small chest. No longer striking. Just plain and thinner and worn. Worn down so soon. He looked at her face, into her eyes for a long time, almost trying to discern what she was thinking. He turned the page.

His seventh birthday. The memory crashed over him like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of his lungs.

He was crouched in the corner of the sitting room, as his father rained down blows on his mother's small frame. He had covered his head with his arms and tried to stifle his cries and tears. The last time he had cried out to protect his mother, his father had punched him so hard, he had lost consciousness. His mother told him never to try to protect her again because it made his father more angry and he would hurt her more. He couldn't help. He mustn't try. This time, he tried to hide, but his father heard his stifled cries.

"Shut up, you shitty little pansy. Stop blubbing like a girl!" the foul man had growled through his clenched, nicotine stained teeth at him as he'd grabbed his small arm in his gnarled beefy hand and yanked him to his feet, dislocating his shoulder before he backhanded his ham-like fist across his face. Unconscious once more. It was his seventh birthday, but he didn't cry in front of his father again.

Snape hitched a ragged breath at the memory that pierced his heart and made his chest swell in pain.

He flinched as he heard "Severus?" Lupin was at the door of the room, watching him, wrapped in Snape's own bath robe. Snape put the album down.

"Old memories," he croaked. "I'm afraid not very happy ones." His eyes darted to the window so Lupin wouldn't see his distress. Lupin moved into the room and wrapped his arms around Snape's waist.

"So, this is your room," he said, gently squeezing Snape's waist. "Where you and your friends used to hang out."

"No friends ever visited me at home, Remus. Not with my father," Snape said softly.

"No-one at all?" Lupin said quietly, and leant his head against Snape's.

"No-one." There had only been Lily, but he never could have let her here in this house with his despised father. It used to worry her when she was young that he never invited her to his home, but she understood as she got older. "I used to stay out of the house as much as possible." Snape placed his hands on Lupin's and looked out of the window again, over the hundreds of identical rooftops to the large manufactory stack in the distance.

"When I was young," he said, "all the men of this end of town worked in that factory. That stack would belch out acrid black smoke all day. The working men died from it, including my father. It wasn't a quick death. He suffered. I didn't visit and I didn't say goodbye. I'm not sorry." Snape's voice was flat. There was so much hatred in his heart for his father even now that it felt physical. Hatred for every blow, physical and mental, that Snape saw as the inauguration of his downward decline into the service of the Dark Lord. When had that chubby child stopped smiling? His chest heaved painfully.

Lupin kissed Snape's neck gently. Snape's head leant to one side to receive the kiss - so welcome. "Yes," Snape whispered. "More." As he kissed, Lupin unbuttoned the collar of Snape's summer robe to the waist and pulled the open garment off one shoulder.

"Hummmm. No shirt ..." Lupin whispered. He sucked at the expanse of shoulder, as Snape sighed.

"I wear my robe wizard style at home," Snape rasped, his eyes closed at the feel of Lupin's mouth on his neck. It was Lupin's turn to moan as his hands swiftly undid the rest of the robe's button so it was open and his hands roved over Snape's naked body underneath. "Merlin, I like that ..." Lupin muttered as his hands grasped Snape's inner thighs and stroked upwards.

Snape reached his arms back to hold Lupin's hair as Lupin pushed his hands up from Snape's waist to his chest and Snape moaned loudly as he felt his groin ignite with fire.

"Merlin yes! Do it now – right here," he moaned. Here in this house where his father had kicked him and beaten him and called him queer and pansy because he wouldn't have his hair cut in a straight back and sides, because his mother said the proper clothes for a wizard were always robes, never mind whether he was queer or not.

Well, yes, father, I am as queer as fuck, and this man – this beautiful man is my husband – and a werewolf. It was poetic really.

Would his father even make sense of the reality of a werewolf – not Lon Chaney Jnr., but a real, honest-to-goodness werewolf? His mind was racing with these random thoughts, but his body was desperate as Lupin's hands roved across his chest and stomach and down to his genitals. Ye gods, it felt good and perfect and - sheer, as he leant back into Lupin's chest, moaning loudly, as Lupin sucked and bit on his neck as he pulled the robe off Snape's shoulders and abraded his chest on the bites that made Snape shiver and stiffen further before he smoothed his hands down Snape's body pressing Snape gently to kneel on the floor where Lupin divested himself of Snape's bath robe.

Snape leant on his hands. He knew Lupin understood now, how he needed this. He was ready and desperate; yearning for Lupin to fuck him. He felt Lupin's fingers inside him. He moaned loudly at the feel of them as they worked against his prostate making him cry out and he writhed on them and luxuriated in the feeling. He panted and begged Lupin to fuck him as his body and mind ached for the raw physical rapture, and his mind yearned for the fulfilment only Lupin could bring to his senses. Lupin thrust into him and he almost wanted to scream in his own pleasure as Lupin thrust over and over, harshly, noisily and deeply. Snape's throat was obstructed with his deepest desire and the waves of raw pleasure that crashed over him.

One small part of his mind hoped his father was spinning in his grave. It may have been a small vengeance to be fucked by his werewolf husband in this hated house of his abomination of a father, but it was his own vengeance and even as that thought crossed his mind, he knew that this act was more pure than anything he had known before in this house – here in this house of nothingness, of blighted years, of tears and pain - Lupin would bring him rapture and bliss like an exorcism, and Lupin did until Snape roared with his own desperate orgasm.

But Lupin had not come. He slowly brought his thrusting to a halt and then gently manoeuvred Snape to the bed and onto his back and lowered himself onto Snape's panting, sweating body and kissed him.

"Severus," Lupin breathed gently into his mouth, and re-entered him with tenderness. "I love you," he murmured as he moved into him. "Never forget how much I love you," and he kissed Snape's lips lightly and drew a thumb across a single tear Snape had not known that he had shed. Lupin stroked Snape's hair and his face, as he gently made love to his husband, almost crooning his love to Snape's shocked face, locking his eyes to his own as he held his arms firmly, kissing him still. Snape's frenzy calmed by degrees as his husband loved him, his hips rolling into him and his cock burning him beautifully now in rekindled desire, transported in his eyes and his mesmeric, murmuring voice as he felt his own cock harden again and he splayed himself open for this man, bonelessly relaxing into this single bed as his husband lifted himself onto his hands, still locking eyes with Snape, rolling more firmly now. Snape wrapped his legs high around Lupin's waist and placed his own arms above his head to hold onto the old metal bedstead, anchoring himself for Lupin's deep and searching thrusts.

"Tell me you love me, Severus," Lupin murmured.

"I love you, Remus," Snape whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked, entranced by Lupin's rhythmical movements and the controlled pleasure that lapped at his consciousness as Lupin pushed himself deeply into Snape, thrilling his very core.

"Forget all the rest now, Severus. It's about us now. We have each other," Lupin murmured, and they moved against each other tenderly and lovingly, eventually increasing in passion and intensity until their bodies could bear no more and they came together, each other's names on their lips, incoherent with passion and bursting with invincible love.

"What is that on your head Tippy?" Snape asked in astonishment.

"Master Lupin said that a bow is an adornment befitting the house-elf who has rendered exemplary service to her powerful master wizards," she said, as if reciting what she had been told. "It is definitely not a clo."

"A clo?" Snape repeated, tilting his head at the elf, wondering if his ears had deceived him.

"Professor Snape is teasing Tippy. Tippy knows if you have one bit of clothing, it is a clo," she nodded her head emphatically. Snape stared incredulously as the green satin bow perched on the ugly, bald but undoubtedly proud head left for the kitchen to finish preparing their breakfast.

Snape turned to look enquiringly at Lupin, but he steadfastly avoided his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching almost uncontrollably. Then the suppressed smile genuinely faded away.

"Have you read this Severus?" Lupin said, folding and passing The Daily Prophet to Snape, stabbing his index finger at the offending article headlined, No Confidence in Dumbledore International Confederation Decides.

Snape read and re-read the article, too stunned for words. How could Fudge be so unutterably stupid? He shook his head. "That's not the first," Snape said. Lupin's eyes widened. "He was demoted from Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot last week and Fudge is muttering about trying to dishonour his Order of Merlin."

"I don't understand how Fudge could have managed all this against Albus so quickly," Lupin said wearily. "We'll be fighting with our hands tied behind our back this way."

The fire flared green. It was Dumbledore, unusual in itself in the morning.

"Good morning boys." They both acknowledged him. "I'll get to business immediately, if I may. We need to convene a meeting of the Order today. Harry Potter and his cousin have been attacked by Dementors and the Ministry has tried to expel him from Hogwarts ..."
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You Will Not Kiss Me