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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.

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Chapter 51: A Day of a Spy

"Lupin. A word," Snape sneered as he entered the kitchen in Gimmauld Place.

Lupin, at his most mild mannered, moved away from Black, Tonks and Shacklebolt without complaint, although his companions each scowled their disapproval at Snape's rudeness.

Snape took the opportunity to deliver the Electio Potion at the same time as Lupin's Wolfsbane. They had arranged this charade between themselves before Lupin left Spinner's End after breakfast to return to Grimmauld Place. Snape had delivered the instructions anonymously directly to Amelie and Jasper by owl when he had finished the final filtration process, with the advice that Lupin would deliver it to them. It was not date-sensitive, so they could use it according to their own timetable but it must be taken by the mother at the coupling of conception. He pressed two phials of the strangely iridescent lavender potion into Lupin's hand in front of the large goblet containing the Wolfsbane.

"Remember to drink it straight away, Lupin," he said as his lip curled. "We don't want you loping around London, creating your own particular brand of mayhem."

Tonks scowled at Snape and Black launched into a tirade of invective against Snape's lineage as florid as any used by Walburga Black, as Lupin caught Snape's eyes.

I've arranged to see them at the weekend, Severus. Thank you so much. They'll be delighted.

There's enough for two but I've explained it in my note to them.

It will mean the world to them.

Snape heard the earnestness and warmth in Lupin's mind voice and it warmed his heart as he recalled the phial of lavender potion he had secreted in his own stores, far at the back, out of the way, because … well … because maybe … one day … the Dark Lord might be defeated … and …because …

He only had to look at Lupin to know how much he loved him; how completely loved he had felt that day in his small bed – how Lupin just might bring him out of that dark tomb of hatred for his childhood he had floundered in for so long. If Lupin could do that – well, that was his "because".

He broke the connection to tell himself he was a fool to even consider thinking about it, but the warm rock of his adoration of Lupin settled prettily in his stomach and he concentrated on that feeling, rather than the condemnation of Snape's soul issuing from Black's mouth until all the members of the Order including Dumbledore finally arrived and Molly presented every member of the Order assembled with their choice of drink.

It was, of course, with a sense of outrage coupled with amazement that the meeting convened to discuss the Dementor attack on Potter and his cousin. Arabella Figg reported. Dumbledore turned to Mundungus Fletcher to await his excuses. Snape was sure he wasn't the only person around that table who was grateful not to be in Fletcher's shoes as cerulean blue eyes bored into his soul over half moon glasses, and clearly found it wanting.

Dumbledore outlined the expulsion attempt by the Ministry, then the steps he had had to take to suspend that decision pending a hearing. Although Snape did not voice the thought, he wondered (and certainly not for the first time) if his own vow would be easier to keep if the boy did not attend school at all. It must surely curtail Potter's frequent, enthusiastic and successful forays into mortal danger. But now, if the blood wards were compromised, perhaps Snape had to re-assess his own enthusiastic attempts to see the boy expelled. Perhaps, perish the thought, the boy should be under Snape's own watchful eye at Hogwarts.

The boy was to be brought to Grimmauld Place. Clearly, he was no longer safe in Little Whinging. Snape could not help but wonder at it. The blood wards were supposed to protect Potter from attack by the Dark Lord or his minions. Add to that, it seemed to Snape dubious at best that the Dark Lord would jeopardise the secrecy he was so set upon by sending Dementors to attack Potter. He did voice both of these views, but neither of these opinions met with even due consideration from the Order. Because who else would do such a thing? was the loudly-trumpeted consensus. Snape considered that was rather missing the salient points he had tried to make, but Black was determined to shout him down.

"I think we should hear Severus out," Lupin said quietly.

"Why?" Black shouted derisively, waving a dismissive hand at Snape, "He's bound to try to lay the blame elsewhere other than at the filthy feet of his Dark Lord and master, isn't he?" Various others murmured their agreement with him and Black sat back with a smug smirk on his face.

"If you would think with your head, rather than your heart, Black," Snape snapped, "you would perhaps divine that something else is at work, rather than just cutting me dead."

"Ha! Well we know cutting is your speciality if I recall!" Black spat, never missing an opportunity to remind Snape on whom he had first tested his bespoke Dark curse. Snape was livid and fairly sure he had a reminder of his own that would shock Black after all these years.

"Indeed, and I'm surprised you don't cherish the reminder of it I gave you so many years ago," Snape whispered dangerously, and with that, he made a delicate slashing gesture with one long hand to Black's clavicle and then turned away.

"Severus!" Dumbledore said firmly. Snape rolled his eyes. Far be it for Dumbledore to have stopped this conversation when it was Black who spoke out of turn!

Black's eyes widened as his hand whipped to his clavicle and Snape heard him whisper furiously to Lupin, "Do you remember that fight with Death Eaters behind the silver vaults in Chancery Lane? James was there. It was him! Bloody Snivellus sent that cutting curse at me! I should've known ..." Black had pulled his perfectly ridiculous ruffled shirt to one side to reveal a large deep scar running the length of his clavicle. "I didn't think it would ever stop bleeding. Albus had to heal it, do you remember? How the hell are we supposed to trust him?" Black was looking earnestly at Lupin, pointing accusingly at Snape, whilst the rest of table watched in silence, yet again.

Snape did not to look at Lupin. He did not want to see how disappointed Lupin would be that Snape had risen to the bait – again.

"If you two boys have finished pissing up the door frame," Moody growled.

"Aptly put," Dumbledore said quietly so only Snape would hear and he felt a sharp flush at his neck at his own quick temper. Why did he give Black the satisfaction? Why? The answer was simple enough and was sitting next to Black and not at Snape's side, where he should be.

"We should get on with our business," continued Moody then stood to introduce the plans for the advanced guard for Potter.

As he did so, the Dark Mark burned. Snape inhaled sharply through gritted teeth, grasping his forearm, his eyes snapped to Lupin (No!) then to Dumbledore instantly, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Without taking further leave, Snape swept out of the house and Disapparated on the front step to Spinner's End for his robes and mask and then on to the Dark Mark.

He Apparated and looked around quickly to try to assess his location. He believed he was in the same dusty, disused manor house as before but now they were in its great hall. He was not the first to arrive, nor was he the last. The Dark Lord stood in the centre of the circle they formed around him watching intently as each of his suppliants arrived. The unlucky late comer today was Yaxley and he was felled by the Cruciatus Curse as soon as all had greeted their master. The Dark Lord didn't want apologies, and Yaxley knew this once the curse and the screaming stopped, and as quietly as he could as he gasped for breath, gathered himself to his knees until the Dark Lord said he could stand once more.

"My followers ..." the Dark Lord announced. "Report to me your news. How have your efforts progressed?"

"My Lord," Snape said, "I come directly from a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix ... "

"Yes?" the Dark Lord said impatiently.

"The attack by Dementors on Potter was unsuccessful as he is able to produce the Patronus Charm to repel them. He is to be collected by members of the Order and delivered to its headquarters ..."

"Tell me when and where." The Dark Lord demanded, advancing on Snape.

"My Lord, your summons came as the Auror Moody started to outline his plans. I did not stay to hear. As for headquarters, I am unable to say ..." Snape said, immediately mentally rebuking himself for not mentioning the Fidelius at the outset and bracing himself now, knowing the curse would come.

"Severus ..." the Dark Lord hissed warningly.

"My Lord ... I cannot ..." Snape fell to his knees reflexively: it would be less distance to fall.

CRUCIO!

His nerves flamed on the instant and he keeled to the floor, screaming. The Dark Lord lifted the curse and spun around as if to cast it again in his fury -

"The Fidelius ... my Lord ... I cannot ... I beg you ..." Snape managed to rasp out, as he tried to crawl to his knees from where he had fallen in agony, one clawed hand outstretched for mercy.

The Dark Lord gritted his teeth and hissed with annoyance at Snape, wanting the information, but knowing it simply could not be extracted by any means. He paced furiously and sent a burning hex to the outstretched hand instead.

"Get up!"

Snape staggered to his feet, trying not to sway. It took all his force of will as his nerves convulsed and his hand throbbed.

"There is nothing to be done about the Fidelius. But, next time, if you are in an Order meeting when I summon you, you must remain so I have the full report. I will, of course, be understanding of your lateness, Severus."

"My Lord, yes," Snape whispered, but he knew it was a lie. There was never leniency for lateness. There was always torture.

"Who ordered the Dementors to attack Harry Potter?" the Dark Lord demanded, looking around at his Death Eaters. The question visibly shocked the assembled company. All had assumed it had been the Dark Lord himself. The Dementors were his natural allies; they did his bidding without compulsion. Murmurs of ignorance circulated as the Dark Lord paced the circle, his red stare boring into his followers. Snape fell back to the circle and pursed his lips: it was as he had suspected. Who then?

"Make enquiries. Yaxley, Lucius – enquire at the Ministry – strenuously, if required – the Dementors are supposedly under its control. I want to know." The two men bowed quickly and murmured their acknowledgement. Snape needed to pursue his own report. This part had been specifically agreed with Dumbledore to be reported. Dumbledore was taking a calculated risk by forcing the issue, but he needed to see where loyalties lay on the Wizengamot. Snape would have to take the risk of rekindling the Dark Lord's ire by speaking again.

"My Lord ...?" Snape ventured. The Dark Lord's head snapped back to Snape, his red eyes aglow, his body following slowly.

"The Ministry sought to expel Potter from Hogwarts – Fudge no doubt is behind that. The old man has intervened to suspend that expulsion. Potter has a hearing for contravention of the laws on the reasonable restriction of underage magic on the twelfth of this month ... it occurs to me that this may be ... an opportunity ..." Snape spoke slowly and deliberately as if deep in thought so that the Dark Lord would reach the conclusions Snape hoped for, as if of his own volition.

"Yes ... yes ... I see, Severus. Fudge is turning out to be quite the ally in his desire to be ignorant of my return ..." A cold smile cleaved his face. "Lucius ... speak to Fudge ... impress upon him the inherent ... ah ... instability ... unreliability ... of Harry Potter ... the need to protect the wizarding world ... indeed its children at our respected school ... from Harry Potter's unstable influence ... use your undoubted talents to persuade our dear ignorant Minister that the usual lax rules should not apply – a full trial should do the trick, and discredit Potter once and for all. After all, what defence can the boy use? Dementors? In Little Whinging?" The Dark Lord laughed his eerie, high pitched laugh. "Such an inventive excuse, surely ... See to it, Lucius."

"My Lord," Malfoy nodded.

"If the boy is expelled from Hogwarts, he will no longer be under the protection of the old man. Even better. Well done, Severus." Snape breathed a little easier. The Dark Lord turned to Malfoy once more. "Is the half-breed ready to report to us?"

"My Lord, yes," Malfoy bowed and strode to the double doors of the hall, and was followed back in by Greyback.

"My Lord," the werewolf growled. The Dark Lord's nose wrinkled at the smell of the werewolf, the coppery tang of blood and the sickly smell of old sweat and sex. It was pungent and overpowering. The Dark Lord had allowed the beast Death Eater robes, but not the Dark Mark itself. Greyback was an exquisite weapon for the Dark Lord, but a dirty Dark creature nonetheless that the Dark Lord would not countenance marking it with his blood brand.

"How goes it, Greyback?" the Dark Lord enquired silkily, with an expansive gesture of his wand.

"I have been to two packs since we met: one in the fens of Norfolk and one in the New Forest. The fen pack has no interest in affiliation either way. Your Lordship may wish to consider allowing me and mine to teach them a lesson." Greyback voice was rough and deep and he bared his incisors in a grimace of a smile that made Snape shudder. Those teeth would match exactly that savage Turning bite on Lupin's body. He had known it for a long time, but seeing the teeth bared and looking at and smelling the beast responsible for Turning Lupin made Snape's gorge rise. One day, maybe he would have some time alone with Mr Greyback and a certain cutting curse. The thought, deep in his Occluded mind, pleased him.

"The New Forest pack of Octavius has pledged to your cause. They informed me that they had caught a Ministry spy trying to join their pack, but he was rescued before I could pick him up." Snape's mind raced. How many days – or hours even – would it have been before Lupin had been delivered to Greyback and his own violent destruction had he not found him through Tippy? He struggled to stop his stomach lurching and tried to think proactively. He had to tell Lupin that Greyback was being alerted to spies and had to find a way to know which packs Greyback was visiting and when so he could forewarn Lupin, or he could walk into a trap at any time.

"There are no werewolves employed by the Ministry," Yaxley interrupted.

"Then it must be an Order spy," Malfoy enjoined. "Severus?" Snape's stomached roiled. He was about to speak, when another spoke.

"Remus. Remus Lupin," squealed Peter Pettigrew, on the periphery of the gilded circle, just like Greyback. "He scouted the werewolf packs during the first wizarding war." He then ducked his head, and backed quickly away.

Snape wanted to kill Pettigrew on the spot, and thanked Merlin for the mask he wore.

"Is that correct, Severus?" the Dark Lord turned to him.

"I believe so, my Lord," Snape said, doing his best to keep his voice even. "He is rarely at Order meetings."

"Lupin ... Lupin ..." the Dark Lord mused. "Why do I recall the name, Severus? Something to do with you ...?" Snape's blood froze as he struggled to think of an answer. "Ah yes ..." Snape couldn't breathe. "I remember now," the Dark Lord had a rictus smile on his face. "The blood traitors tried to feed you to their pet werewolf. That was Remus Lupin, wasn't it? I recall the story now."

Greyback laughed gruffly, and Snape heard Pettigrew squeak. There was nervous laughter around the room. Years ago, Snape would have felt the heat of humiliation at the laughter; now he felt just blessed relief that the Dark Lord had remembered his tale of woe from so long ago. The smile fell from the Dark Lord's face suddenly, and the laughter around the room ceased with it.

"I'm surprised you have not sought him out to teach him a long-overdue lesson, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed. Severus seized to opportunity to dissemble – all he had to do was recall his own true thoughts only three years ago.

"I had some small measure of retribution, my Lord, when the old man saw fit to employ it as the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts but I revealed its secret to the world, and destroyed its tissue of lies that it was a respectable teacher. It can't inveigle its way into the wizarding community any longer." Snape hoped his voice sounded convincingly smug, even though he felt sick to the pit of his stomach. "However, it remains a dear wish for a more personal revenge of my own making, but the beast is also under the old man's protection, my Lord," Snape bowed.

"I see. How very galling," the Dark Lord commiserated.

"I am a patient man, my Lord," Snape said coolly.

"That you are, Severus, that you are. It is a trait of yours that I admire."

"If I may, my Lord," Snape ventured, his mind still working on how to get the information he needed. "Might I propose that one of your followers keeps records of the approaches that are being made to all the different enclaves, packs and covens, as they are planned, so we can ensure we keep track of progress if something should happen to any of your followers or affiliates? Of course, it should not be me, given my close proximity to the old man's prying ways." Snape took a small step backwards as he bowed.

"Yes, that would be prudent. Greyback is approaching the werewolves. Yaxley's contact in France is trying to contact the Giants, and I would like lists kept of those wizards I deem worthy of personal approaches, or punishment, as the case may be. We may as well make this orderly. I will give it some thought." The Dark Lord swung to the large Death Eater to Snape's left. "Thorfinn, what news have you?"

"I have been in contact with several influential vampires. It is difficult to get them interested when they take blood from whoever they please, but we have had a few notable pledges: Sanguini, de la Page, and Bodmin. Bodmin has his own followers who are also keen for the cause," Rowle reported.

"See if a reminder of the power of a stake wielded by every Death Eater that crosses their paths has a persuasive effect on those who remain recalcitrant," the Dark Lord said, silkily. "From my time in the Forbidden Forest a couple of years ago, I know that the Centaurs will not be drawn into mortal man's battles, no matter how hard Dumbledore tries to convince them. I must accept that these creatures will not be mine to command; but neither will they be his." The Dark Lord spun around to face Malfoy.

"Lucius, Gibbon. Your news. Have you disposed of those Mudbloods who have been actively supporting Potter at the Ministry?"

"I have brought the Baxter Mudbloods for your enjoyment, my Lord," Malfoy smiled glacially and indicated a couple huddled in a dark corner, in full body binds. "Their spawn I have promised to Greyback for the full moon to augment his numbers. The children currently reside in my dungeon, may it please my Lord." The Dark Lord nodded his approval.

"How old?" Greyback's eyes flashed.

"The youngest son is five, and the youngest daughter is seven," Malfoy drawled, with little interest.

"A good age to Turn them. They take training well," Greyback growled.

"Were there not older children?" the Dark Lord enquired.

"There are: a boy of fourteen and a girl of twelve, my Lord. They are also currently resident in my dungeons. I was hoping to ask for ..."

"Of course you were, Lucius. You always do," the Dark Lord sounded impatient. "Take them, if you wish, provided you dispose of them afterwards. I want no spawn of Mudbloods surviving." The Dark Lord glided away. "Now. Kill the Mudbloods as you see fit," the Dark Lord said, his tone bored as he pointed to the parents.

Malfoy sidled up to Snape. "Why don't you return to the Manor with me after we finish here, Severus? Let bygones be bygones, hm?" Malfoy purred.

"You know it is not my pastime," Snape clipped, trying to appear unconcerned with the children's fate.

"You really are too monastic, y'know Severus," Malfoy's mouth twitched. "Come. Join me. I'll give you your choice. Which would you prefer? The filly is rather lovely and untouched," Malfoy chuckled lewdly, "but the buck is really quite beautiful in his innocence." Malfoy inclined his head to Snape, his expression oddly coy. "He rather reminds me of you when ..." Snape turned to glare at Malfoy who smirked and left the sentence unfinished with a low chuckle. Snape's stomach knotted in anger, but he kept his impassive silence. "I'm rather torn between the two," Malfoy said flippantly then turned to Snape and pressed himself up against him, purring in his ear, "We could share them ... and then maybe each other ..."

"I think not, Lucius," Snape sneered with one brow raised disdainfully at the silver haired man, and moved away. He heard the Dark Lord snort in amusement and Snape cast his eyes to the floor and he knew Malfoy had done the same.

"As you were, Lucius," the Dark Lord said dismissively, and waved one unnaturally long hand at Lucius who went to join the other Death Eaters taunting the couple in the corner, and then tilted his head towards Snape. "Yes, I recall you were always rather disdainful of that type of ... ah ... entertainment. It shows maturity, Severus. It keeps one's magic pure. Unmask and walk with me." The Dark Lord placed one hand near, but not quite touching, Snape's shoulder and steered him away from the spectacle unfolding in the great hall of the other Death Eaters and the Baxters.

Snape wished he could block his ears to the pleas and screams of the captives behind them. He could not save them, but he might be able to assist the children. There had been a time when Snape would have participated gladly in the torture and the killing, but he had kept himself away from the sexual assaults and rapes. He did not deny that he had tried to join in when he was young. He thought it would be easy. It had seemed easy to those who had forced themselves on him, after all. It had been expected of him, but it felt so dirty – he couldn't do it. Even his failed attempts gave him such tormented nightmares. He could never justify it to himself. The other Death Eaters had always inferred he was impotent from his refusal to participate and jeered at him, even when Lucius would protest he knew otherwise. Well, let them think it.

"Let us talk, Severus. That type of ... base distraction may be necessary to keep up the spirits of ordinary wizards, but there are those of us who are pure of purpose – those of us ... you and I ... Severus, who understand ... truly ... having strived for it ... what purity means." He was watching the effect of his carefully selected words and bestowed upon Snape one of his cold, cursory smiles. "Come, Severus, we need to plan ..."

Of course, Snape knew (because Dumbledore had told him) that the Dark Lord was a half-blood of a base Muggle father, just like Snape. He would never tell the Dark Lord of his knowledge, but he often noted how the Dark Lord despised, with venom, that which he purported to venerate. Snape saw with clarity that the punishment he meted to those of the purest blood could go beyond his usual torture for the most trivial of perceived slights. He also saw the begrudging respect the Dark Lord gave to Dumbledore, but he would never openly acknowledge the older wizard's half-blood status and admit such magical power could reside, as it did in himself, in "tainted blood".

And as he walked side by side with the Dark Lord, he reflected how, when he first took the Dark Mark as a fervent acolyte of the Dark Lord and of blood purity, struggling against his stained heritage, this confidence of his master, the smarting of the burns and the tremors of the Cruciatus notwithstanding, would have left him speechless with gratitude. Now, because he found rape evil and torture beyond him and did not wish to besmirch his vows to Lupin, this apparent disdain had been misinterpreted by the Dark Lord as purity of purpose. It amused Snape darkly but he recognised the opportunity to cement this position. It was all to play for now. Malfoy's rapacious and incontinent sexual appetites had cost him the confidence of the Dark Lord. Malfoy would split himself with envy when he realised his mistake.

Snape allowed himself a small inward smile of achievement. Whoever the Dark Lord chose to be the list keeper would not resist Snape's Legilimency and he would have the information he needed on the wizard targets for Dumbledore but, more importantly, on the werewolves so he could forewarn Lupin.

Snape Apparated straight through his own wards into his sitting room to find himself swept into Lupin's arms.

"Remus!" he rasped, winded by the sudden and forceful embrace. "You shouldn't be here! What if one of the Death Eaters had come back with me, or followed me?" Snape cried, horrified.

"Have they ever before?" Lupin said, his concentration on his hands as he ran them over Snape's body for injuries, stopping at the hiss of pain when he found Snape's burnt hand, and then grabbed Snape's shoulders. "Where's your Cruciatus Potion and Burn Salve?"

"No, none has, but that's not the point!" Snape snapped as he wordlessly Summoned the Potion and Salve. "If they had ..." Lupin clearly was not listening.

"He Cursed you," Lupin said, still holding Snape's trembling shoulders as Snape drank a dram of the Potion to calm his tremors. "Why?" Lupin feathered Snape's face with desperate kisses and dragged him to sit on the settee, holding the Burn Salve in his hand.

"I couldn't tell him the whereabouts of the Order's headquarters or the plans for Potter's travel," Snape said quickly. "But that not important. I must report to Dumbledore." Snape said desperately. "There are four children held in Malfoy Manor." He kissed Lupin back, then threw his mask down and turned to the Floo. Lupin grabbled one arm tightly.

"Don't leave Severus," Lupin's voice sounded desperate and his eyes were dark and broody. The full moon approached, and Snape knew he would not win any battle of the wills this night. "Tell Albus by fire call. I don't want you to leave." Snape was going to tell him not to worry, but he saw the Lupin was past reassurance. How long he had been sitting here, Snape did not know, but clearly Lupin had worked himself into a state of some distress. Snape nodded curtly and got on his knees to make the call.

He told Dumbledore about the Baxters' children, the plans for them, and where they were being kept.

"I will send Arthur Weasley on a raid immediately, and we can ensure other Order members there to snatch the children under Disillusionment Charms so that Lucius will believe they have escaped in the confusion. Let's hope to Merlin we are in time. Well done, Severus. And the parents?"

"No, Albus," Snape said in a small, shamed voice. "I'm sorry." Snape could not see Dumbledore's face, but knew it would be sorrowful.

"Will you report in full tomorrow?" Dumbledore asked, "Remus permitting..." Snape could tell Dumbledore was not happy that Lupin had disregarded his orders to limit their meetings to their flat.

"Yes, Albus. I will." He stood when the Floo died down, and turned to Lupin, whose face was still grave and resentful. "I must."

"Sit," Lupin said and tended Snape's burnt hand with gentleness that belied his distressed state.

"I have much to tell you too, about the werewolf pack," Snape said. "You need to be careful ..."

"No, not now," Lupin shook his head gently. "Tomorrow."

oooOOOooo

When Lupin had taken Snape to bed, both knew as he carefully pushed himself into Snape's yielding body, it had not been for passion and desire, or even for release, but for union – for oneness, a need borne of fear of loss. Throughout the remainder of the night, as soon as Lupin was capable once more, he made love to Snape, without fever, but in slow desperation as if their souls' existence depended upon it. Come the morning, they lay tangled together in their bed, as much of their skin touching as they could. Legs intertwined, arms wrapped around each other and hands pressed to flesh. They kissed, not for desire, but for closeness, each so afraid for the other, but for now believing that union would keep them from danger.
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You Will Not Kiss Me