Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 64
- 65
- 66
Chapter 65: Mysteries, Old and New

There was another Order meeting three days later and Tonks brought David with her. He was tall, brown haired and, if Snape were to describe his disposition, he would not say 'sunny' because he didn't think in those terms. But David was cheerful and outgoing, smitten with his mate and obviously delighted by her gift as an animagus as she fashioned various animal faces at Moody's more overt idiosyncrasies, clearly playing up to her mate. (Snape wondered if it was possible to tut telepathically when Lupin made a lewd comment to him about what Tonks might be able to change into for David's benefit – he realised it wasn't meant to be unkind, but really, he thought his husband's taste was sometimes really quite questionable or perhaps Snape was just too reserved.) He'd given his own report and was now lost in his own thoughts about Remus Lupin's body behind his mask of indifference. Lupin was leaving tomorrow morning and had asked him to stay this night. As if it was even up for question, Snape thought.

oooOOOooo

By rights, Lupin should have been his this night with the waning of the moon but he knew now that when Lupin went to the packs, his smell had to be right. It had become their pattern now and Snape relished it for, when he had to cede to Lupin like this, Lupin's attentions became sharply focused on Snape's pleasure, and his alone.

And so it was that Snape was stretched out on the bed, and Lupin was feathering every part of his skin with kisses, or with small bites or swirls with his tongue where he knew Snape liked them best, his fingers and hands stroking or grasping his skin to work in concert with his mouth. Whether it was the kisses he lavished on Snape's thighs as his hands stroked his chest; or the small bites to his stomach and chest, gently licking around the bites and into the hollow of Snape's neck as his fingers stroked down the sides of Snape's body to make him arch into Lupin's mouth, or the light sucking on his ear lobe or his Adam's apple as Lupin's hand's caressed Snape's face: it all combined to make Snape writhe with the gorgeousness of Lupin's touches upon his skin, each and every one sending thrill upon thrill throughout his body, his pleasure mounting with his desire and the heat pooling harder and harder in his groin, although he could do no more than run his hands through Lupin's hair and sign and moan with delight, either closing his eyes to intensify the sensation, or watching his beloved's face making his heart pound harder.

Lupin traced his kisses and small bites from Snape's throat slowly down his breast bone to his navel, tracing the cup of it with a swirl of his tongue, sending a magical tingle that pierced through Snape's body making him moan loudly at the unexpected sharpness, before continuing down to tease the tip of Snape's erection, that feeling that was unlike any other, so exquisite and unique. Snape hands grasped at Lupin's hair as he murmured into his pillow, as Lupin dragged his tongue down Snape's cock and up again, his hands grasping Snape's hips as he took Snape's cock in his mouth, making Snape groan loudly at the hot wetness of Lupin's mouth moving up and down against his shaft, tracing his tip with his tongue and edge of his teeth.

It was always when Lupin did this that Snape began to lose control, his body stretching and arching, and his hips beginning to buck into the waves of pleasure Lupin's mouth produced, feeling Lupin smile against his cock every time Snape moaned against a lick of his tongue or a nip of his teeth or a noisy sucking of the shaft, feeling his pleasure mount, pushing his conscious mind away as Lupin's hands moved under him, grasping his backside, tilting his hips to prepare him with his fingers, finding his prostate with them so Snape's mind almost unravelled at the pleasure of his sweet spot being excited and his cock being so tantalised.

Snape uttered a deep, long moan as his fingers tightened in Lupin's hair. "Please ..." he managed to groan, now so near to his orgasm, he could barely speak. Lupin hummed against Snape's cock, sending a further deep thrill through him, as he slowly took his mouth away and drew his body back over Snape's, kissing as much of his skin as he could, until he was face to face with Snape once more, as his fingers still worked, driving Snape's need and feeding his desire, only briefly removing them to line up his own cock, just resting it tantalisingly at Snape's opening, tracing his tip against it.

"Please!" Snape gasped into Lupin's mouth, as his hands grasped Lupin's backside to pull it forwards. Lupin leant into kiss Snape, their tongues lapping around each others as Lupin traced Snape's opening to tantalise him more, Snape's gasps of breath interrupting their kiss until Lupin pushed in as he pulled one of Snape's legs over his forearm.

Snape arched sharply and cried out, wrapping his other leg around Lupin's waist as he hands flew upwards to hold the bedstead, driven to the edge and knowing exactly how he needed it now, at such a pitch of heightened pleasure that he thought he would split in two. "Harder please ... oh please," he panted as Lupin moved into him deeply and slowly, each plunge as slow as he could, each man feeling the friction against each other as Lupin pushed his arms under Snape's shoulders to hold him tighter as he gradually increased his pace, murmuring his love and the name of his love now against Snape's ear, his thrusts increasing in depth and pace as Snape cried out against each thrust, now striking his prostate with accuracy. Snape started to buck back as much as he could, his grasp around the bedstead now white-knuckle tight as his body screamed for his release as Lupin whispered to him, "Wait for me, my darling, wait."

Not for much longer, his mind gone, his whole body thick with hot pulsing passion, he almost whimpered his inarticulate need, "Remus ... please ... I can't ... need to ..." but he couldn't finish his plea, his orgasm had built to the point of pain. Lupin grasped his backside hard and trust hard and fast and deep, his pace no longer measured and controlled, sweat dripping from his forehead as he brought himself to the same pitch of arousal as Snape, and then found Snape's cock. It only took two long hard strokes of Lupin's hand and Snape could hold on no longer, his orgasm fiercely washing over him with a hoarse cry as he raised his own hips for Lupin to go deeper still, his orgasm following quickly with a shout as he buried his head into Snape's exposed neck, his head thrown back as his release ebbed slowly from him, leaving him breathless, his thigh muscles trembling against Lupin's damp body.

Lupin, still panting, lowered himself next to Snape and they calmed together in each other's arms, gently kissing, neither speaking until sleep took them both.

oooOOOooo

Snape didn't want Lupin to go, but he supposed at least, this time, Lupin would have company – another civilised, Wolfsbane-using werewolf to keep him centred in the wizarding world. At least, that's what he hoped. He did worry that maybe David would be overwhelmed by the raw and primal atmosphere of a pack. Lupin said it would be a shock for him, and had spent a long time talking him through what he could expect at the Order meeting last night. With the arrogance of youth, David thought he would be able to take whatever came his way. Well, time would tell.

Snape and Lupin went through Lupin's rucksack to ensure there was nothing that needed replenishing, discussing David and Tonks.

"Perhaps, she's just not sure how people like Molly and Arthur will react," Lupin suggested when Snape queried why Tonks had called David her 'friend', not her mate.

"But Bill knows surely and we know Moody does," Snape said as he packed the small stock of potions Lupin carried with him, as well as some salves, astringent and dressings for emergencies.

Lupin shrugged. "I doubt that Molly and Arthur, nice people though they are, would ever think that Tonks would mate with a werewolf. It was one thing for her pureblood mother to marry a Muggleborn. That would be quite acceptable to people like the Weasleys. But, well, it's quite another to marry a half-breed, isn't it? I would imagine that Tonks has thought of this and is trying to spare their blushes rather than being deceitful."

Snape watched Lupin's face as he spoke for signs of upset or disquiet: there was none. He wondered at it – to be able to speak of one's own kind so disparagingly. He found himself cross at Lupin's conditioned acceptance of this perceived lesser status. His jaw worked in annoyance. One day, he promised himself, one day it will be different for Remus. I will make it different.

Lupin and he finished packing and checking and then shrunk the ruck sack for fit in his robe pocket, and then they took each other into their arms to kiss each other good-bye. They held each other quietly for a while, until Snape spotted David through the window walking jauntily down the street. He told Lupin who kissed him once more and then sped out of the room.

Lupin ran down the stairs, taking two or three at a time, to open the front door before David used the knocker and set off the portrait. Snape smiled. He could hardly blame him: he didn't want to hear Mrs Black mouthing off about one half-breed, let alone two. Black came to the landing at the clatter of Lupin's strides down the stairs. He saw Snape and acknowledged him with something that was a cross between a nod and a sneer and something then passed across his face that Snape couldn't quite put his finger on. Snape reciprocated and then Disillusioned himself so David would not see him as he followed Lupin silently down one flight of stairs, staying out of the range of David's sense of smell.

"Remus!" David greeted Lupin brightly. He was dressed much like Lupin in shabby robes. Snape suspected he had had to have gone to some lengths to find them. He had been employed by Gringotts since leaving Beauxbatons and never known the type of poverty that Lupin clearly had. Snape suspected that this was all a dressing-up adventure for young David. He also suspected David would be disabused of any notion of derring-do very quickly indeed.

Black made his way downstairs, deftly and surprisingly avoiding Snape. He waved lazily to David and wished Lupin well and then turned to go into the kitchen. Snape watched David's reaction. It was odd: he saw David lightly flaring his nostrils as Lupin walked past him to the door, and then turn quickly to look in the direction that Black taken with a knowing smile on his face as he then turned and followed Lupin away. Snape realised with horror that David had smelt sex on Lupin and assumed that Black was his partner. He felt an ugly flush of anger and jealousy, even whilst knowing it was pointless.

After all, what difference could David's mistaken assumption possibly make to anyone?

Once they had closed the door, Snape removed the charm and made his way down the rest of the stairs and towards the front door to leave for Hogwarts. He had brewing planned for this weekend.

"Snape?" Black's voice. It sounded odd, not commanding or sneering. Asking.

He turned to face Black, who was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, no wand that Snape could see, his face unreadable.

"I ... I wondered ... I hoped," Black's voice seemed to peter out and he coughed. "I want to talk to you."

Snape raised an eyebrow slowly. Surely, Black wasn't going to try to bond with him. It would be too revolting.

"What can we possibly have to talk about?" Snape said brusquely, controlling the sneer that would have been natural; but for Lupin, he restrained it.

"Please," Black said softly, controlling his voice, Snape could hear it. "I want to know what happened to Reg. You were his friend." Black's eyes never left Snape's. "I never knew, you see." His voice caught on the last word.

Snape saw the sadness, the desperation, the longing for knowledge, beseeching for closure. It was all there. In his eyes.

"Who else do I have to ask?" Black said bitterly. Snape understood: when would Black ever have the opportunity to ask a Death Eater for this information? If not Snape – then who? Humanity alone demanded that he answer.

Snape felt his shoulders relax slightly.

"I don't know everything. I don't believe anyone does, but I'll tell you what I know," Snape said.

Black nodded and Snape followed Black into the kitchen where he noted a mug of tea already awaited him. He sat opposite Black, stiff and formal in his chair, Black leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands wrapping around the mug, attention avid – expectant.

"What do you know?" Snape asked, with a resigned air.

Black let out a whoosh of air and dragged his hands back through his hair. "Very little. I found out when my mother sent me a Howler ..." Snape made no sound, but closed his eyes at the travesty of it. "Yes, a Howler," Black said, picking up on Snape's reaction. "Something along the lines of 'your brother is dead – would that it had been you'." Black stopped and breathed deeply, looking around himself. "It was the last time I visited this house or my mother. I returned to find out what had happened, when the funeral was, you know." Black now stared sadly at his hands, clasped together on the table. It took him time to summon the words. "With Reg's death, the last shred of my mother's sanity left her. When I got here, she was quite deranged.

"I found her in Reg's bedroom, holding one of his robes to herself. Rocking. Wailing." Black was staring into the middle distance now, eyes wide and sad in recollection. "She flew at me, trying to claw at my face." Black's eyes flew down to the table, unable to look Snape in the eyes - not for this. "She said it should have been me. It would have been no loss – a nasty blood traitor like me." He looked up once more, a small bitter smile, but no smile in his glassy, hurt eyes. Snape now understood what he saw: sadness for the lost brother but also for a mother whose love Black had never had.

"I managed to calm her enough to sit her back on the bed, to ask her questions. In between her invective and wishes for my speedy demise, I discovered that there was no body to bury. That Voldemort had killed him or had ordered him killed, she didn't know which. I wanted to know why. How. But all she could tell me was that he had spent days in our library, so much so that she thought he would become ill and then he set out on a mission, he'd called it. He wouldn't tell her where – but that it was dangerous and that he had been wrong, so very wrong – but she didn't know why he said that and then she just sat on his bed." Black screwed his eyes shut. "Shrieking. Even Kreacher was nowhere to be found." Black's eyes now were haunted by the memory.

"I even wrote to Cissy, hoping she could tell me how it happened or where his body was. I didn't know if she would speak to me: she was married to Malfoy by then and he was a dedicated Death Eater, but I hoped. She arranged to meet with me in secret. She told me that Reg he had become scared of the things he was being asked to do, that she had feared it would come to the attention of Voldemort and she had tried to shield him, but she wondered if it finally had come out –she supposed it must have done. She hadn't heard of any duel or assignment he'd been involved in where he might have been killed by the Order or the Ministry, so she could only assume."

Black sat back in the chair, his arms limp at his sides. "That's all I know," he croaked. Snape had never seen such a war of uncovered emotions chase across a man's face: desperation, guilt, sadness, anger, hatred. Too much time trapped alone in this house, Snape thought.

Snape nodded slowly. "I don't know that I can add more. But I will say this: it is true that Reg wanted to leave the Dark Lord's service. He had become embroiled in it so young with so many others in Slytherin ..."

"Including you," Black spat.

"Yes, including me. We were friends. We discussed the Dark Lord often. We both admired him, couldn't wait to be inducted into his service. If I may say, your parents also fed Reg's admiration of the Dark Lord's aspirations for pureblood supremacy," Snape said calmly, hearing and seeing the accusation in Black's tone and face. "Not to mention their sizeable financial contributions to the Dark Lord himself. So large, indeed, I'm surprised they never actually took the Dark Mark," Snape said waspishly.

Black closed his eyes again and held his hands out in a conciliatory gesture.

"You're right, you're right," he admitted, and Snape could tell it was costing him. "I'm sorry. Theirs was a pureblood mania second to none. They admired everything they thought Voldemort stood for and Reg would do anything to please them. As for taking the Dark Mark," Black allowed himself a snort of derision, "I can't see they would ever have allowed themselves to be branded or to serve anyone – they were Blacks, after all," he sneered, his voice bitter. "As far as they were concerned, they were Voldemort's patrons, ha!" he barked. His expression changed and he looked enquiringly at Snape.

"You know, I knew nothing about that – that Dark Mark until the night of Voldemort's return when you showed it to Fudge. Perhaps – if I had - " his expression became distant, "I would have known what to check for ... on Remus and Peter, I mean."

"It wasn't known to any other than Death Eaters and the Dark Lord until he fell. It became public knowledge through the trials, but you were ... well, you were in Azkaban by then. But no, it probably wouldn't have helped you. The Dark Lord would never brand a werewolf. It's a blood brand. It connects us to him so when he calls, we Disapparate and it takes us to him. He would never connect himself by blood to a werewolf. Pettigrew has it, that's true, but even if Remus had been a traitor, he would not have been branded," Snape explained.

"Reg had it?" Black asked quietly, as if the answer should be quiet too, because it was too dreadful to be said out loud.

Snape nodded. "When he was sixteen, with me."

He saw Black mouth the word 'sixteen' and closed his eyes with sadness. "Did you know Peter was a Death Eater before?"

"I did not," Snape said, his own brow now furrowed. "I have since learnt he came to the Dark Lord offering up the Fidelius – he received his Dark Mark then."

Black thumped the table with both fists and swore loudly and viciously, and then dropped his head in his hands, shaking it slowly. "He used them ... Lily and James ... to get acceptance?" Black asked, his voice now shaking. "He wasn't already a Death Eater?"

"Correct," Snape said, as softly as he could manage, even though it was to Black. "If you recall, at that time, the Dark Lord was almost victorious. Pettigrew resolved on decisive action to change sides and what better than to break the Fidelius for the Dark Lord." He was going to add that it was ironic that Pettigrew's act of treachery in the end defeated the Dark Lord, but he could see Black would not appreciate that irony as it was he, Black, who had given Pettigrew his admission offering. He remained quiet and still until Black collected himself.

"Is it right – I mean – did Reg tell you he was having second thoughts?" Black asked, his voice now quite thick with emotion.

"Yes. You knew Reg. He was not cruel or unkind. He agreed with all Voldemort's ideas on blood purity and wresting power away from Muggles and Muggleborns, but the way of Death Eaters began to sicken him. Yes, he was interested in magic – increasing his magic – becoming more powerful in his magic. But once the Muggle killings started, the torture and maiming of wizards and witches who would not join the cause, he began to question what he was doing – not to the Dark Lord himself, but to me or to Narcissa. He became very troubled. Then the Dark Lord asked him for a favour. I don't know what it was – I just heard him ask for a favour as he led him to another room. Whatever it was, Reg seemed excited – honoured to be serving the Dark Lord. I assumed the favour could not have included any cruelty then. I don't know what happened next, but he sent me a letter a short time later saying he'd discovered something, something quite terrible and he needed to discuss it with me. He said it changed everything."

"What? What was it?" Black asked, breathily.

"I don't know. It was the last I heard from him," Snape said, watching Black's evident disappointment. "The next I knew, the Dark Lord announced that Reg was dead, and that was all."

"So, he – Voldemort – must have been behind it." Black's voice sounded hollow, resigned.

"I don't know. Not necessarily. He would know if a Death Eater died through the Dark Mark. I always wondered if it was him, because if the Dark Lord is angry or someone betrays him, he always makes a public example of them. Even if he had killed Reg away from us, I feel sure he would have told us – gloated. But he didn't." Snape sat silently for a while, regarding Black, not really sure what else he could say. "I'm sorry – I know no more."

Snape stood and started to walk to the door.

"But he was changing his mind, wasn't he? I mean, that's something, isn't it?" Black said, seeking reassurance.

Snape stopped as he opened the kitchen door, and inclined his head toward Black; to Snape Black looked like a broken man.

"Yes, he was. It is something."

oooOOOooo

Snape dropped into the chair opposite Dumbledore, slightly breathless, but this time, not from torture, but his brisk walk from the gate, across the grounds, through the castle and straight to the Headmaster's office direct from his meeting with the Dark Lord. He took the tea that Dumbledore offered.

"The Dark Lord has set me an assignment. Homework, if you will," Snape drawled. "A project that he intends to unleash when he makes himself known yet again."

Dumbledore leant forward quickly. "A potion?"

"How astute of you," Snape said and rolled his eyes. Dumbledore did not react, his eyes continuing to meet those of Snape. Snape exhaled heavily. "To be precise: a poison. At the instigation of Bellatrix, the Dark Lord requisitioned a potion that detects Muggle blood and destroys it."

Dumbledore sat quietly for a while, his face impassive. "An impressive feat, if it can be done. Does he not see the flaw?" Dumbledore eventually asked softly.

"That it would kill him too? He has not admitted it. When we discussed it at the meeting, as you can no doubt imagine, Bellatrix delighted in pointing out that it would rid the magical world, not only of Muggles and Muggleborns, but of half-bloods like you – oh, and me," Snape clipped out, with a wave of his hand. "She, at one point, even insisted on being the inventor and brewer herself. I'm afraid I could not contain my annoyance. Bellatrix is a potioneer truly worthy of derision. Her instability renders her impossibly impatient and ludicrously histrionic. She prances around a cauldron, chanting – chanting for Merlin's sake - lobbing in ingredients with a flourish. I rather lost my temper ..."

"You don't say ..." Dumbledore chuckled.

" ... and told her her brewing antics were comparable to a scene from Macbeth."

"And how did she react?" Dumbledore asked, amusement in his voice.

"She had no idea what I was talking about. Muggle literature is a closed book to Bellatrix."

"Very droll, Severus."

Snape snorted. "Shakespeare was the greatest exponent of the magic of word-craft, but to Bellatrix, he is nothing but a filthy Muggle."

"Dearest Bellatrix." Dumbledore shrugged gently. "I have to confess to a scintilla – a soupçon even – of delight that Bellatrix does not know of her precious Voldemort's Muggle origins. I often wish I could be the one to tell her. I fear her reaction would be – quite terrible." Dumbledore's tone told Snape that Dumbledore had no such fear at all.

"Indeed." Snape allowed himself a small smirk. "The Dark Lord believes that because his body is a cursed construction, it couldn't be harmed by it. However, I did – ah – reason, if that is an appropriate word, that his body was raised by the blood of a half-blood and the flesh of a different half-blood so proper care would need to be taken."

"I should imagine he did not take that well," Dumbledore commented.

"He did not."

"Did he hurt you?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was not my turn today. Dearest Bellatrix received the curse for promulgating the idea without thought. It was her correction." Snape emphasised the appalling euphemism that the Dark Lord had taken to using.

"Was she even aware of how her master was restored?" Dumbledore's eyebrow raised into his hairline.

"I'm sure she knows now. Surely, you don't feel pity for her, after everything you've just said?"

"I can't rejoice in anyone's torture, Severus. Not even Bellatrix's," Dumbledore said quietly. Snape snorted softly. Snape wasn't sure he shared that sentiment.

"You know, I'm sure I would be able to find a way to slip the Dark Lord an undetectable poison. Bring all this to an end. I don't understand why you won't let me try."

"No, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. "It is not time yet. We cannot afford to have him return again."

"Will you tell me why you believe that would happen again?"

"No, Severus. And I must ask you not to enquire too deeply. The job that you do with Voldemort is critical. If he ever suspects you are looking too deeply at his magical defences, you know as well as I that he will kill you. Will you give me your word, Severus?"

"My word? Why do you need my word, on top of the Vow I have already made to you?" Snape responded sharply.

Dumbledore held up his hand in a pacifying gesture. "Be calm, Severus. Understand that you should not make an attempt on Voldemort's life at this stage. As long as you understand, that will suffice."

Snape sat back into his chair and looked away and then nodded.

"So, what is your assignment after all?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have said I will look to inventing a poison that will not activate against magical blood. It would mean that it would not kill half-bloods and Muggleborns, but it's always good to know that you, the Dark Lord and I will be safe," Snape sneered, then his face became set again. "He wants there to be huge Muggle casualties and he's hoping it will affect Squibs too, but I don't think it will. I've always thought Squibs have remnants of magical blood and it reasserts generations later and that's when we get Muggleborns."

"Possibly, Severus," Dumbledore considered. "Possibly. How do you propose administering this to the general Muggle population?"

"I had thought an appropriate delivery system would be the water supply."

Dumble nodded slowly, his fingers twirling his beard gently in thought. "You will, of course, find this exercise fiendishly difficult and it will take – I suppose – some years, don't you think?"

"Indeed I do," Snape responded, his face completely blank. "A great many years for a poison of such complexity."

"Let's hope Voldemort doesn't expect results at an unreasonably fast rate."

"Perhaps as my employer, you'd care to remonstrate with the Dark Lord on my behalf – point out the facile nature of his demands? No? I thought not," Snape lips pursed.

oooOOOooo

The table in his quarters was covered in books and papers. This was not, however, work on his Muggle-murdering poison, as he'd named it. He had resolved before Christmas to look into the problems of age with werewolves. Wizards and witches led substantially longer lives than Muggles (accidents and Dark Lords permitting). But it seemed from what Angharad had told him that it was different for werewolves. The toll on their magical core of the monthly transformations rendered their life span more in line with Muggles, if not shorter.

His realisation that Lupin, so alive and energetic, could be doomed to die early from his condition had hit Snape hard. Now, term had started and Lupin was away trying to locate the Sussex pack with David, it was time to start his research in earnest. He had ordered every treatise and book on the Lycanthropy, in addition to the work Poppy had given him. Snape was methodical, diligent but also capable of great leaps of logic once he had mastered his subject matter. It might take time, but Snape was tenacious: a cure was the ultimate goal, but on the way, he would find ways to ameliorate the damage. He swore it to himself.

oooOOOooo

The passing of the weeks had been slow. Snape had spent his time outside his professorial duties in his research and on Potter's frustrating Occlumency lessons.

Lupin and David found the Sussex pack and stayed with them for over two weeks. He had only managed to speak to Lupin in the mirror occasionally as this needed to be kept secret from David. Now, five days before the full moon, they had returned to take the Wolfsbane that Snape had prepared. They had made good progress with the pack. Most had pledged for the Order although a couple of omegas had taken fright and left. They would report in full at the next meeting, after the weekend. Lupin only stayed at Grimmauld Place on the Thursday when they arrived back, but returned to the flat for the weekend, spending the whole of Saturday in bed with Snape, not letting Snape out of his arms until that evening when he finally had to let Snape up, if for no other reason than to administer his Wolfsbane.

Once up, Lupin took his Wolfsbane and then went to the kitchen to make them a simple supper. He popped a crockpot into the oven and then dropped onto the settee next to Snape.

"Thank you for talking to Sirius. He told me yesterday. It meant a lot to him," Lupin said.

"I wasn't able to tell him what happened to Reg though."

"No, but it meant a lot that Reg was changing his mind – drawing away from Voldemort. Sirius was awfully fond of Reg. It was the only thing he regretted about leaving home – leaving Reg behind. I gather little brothers are like that – they get under your skin."

Snape shrugged. What did he know of family dynamics?

"But, really. Thank you. I know you did it for me."

He planted a kiss on Snape's mouth then went to the kitchen to make some tea whilst dinner cooked. "You know, I'm going to push at this, don't you?" he called out.

"Push at what?" Snape called back, as he picked up The Daily Prophet to read.

"Making you both friends!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Remus. Neither Black nor I have any wish to be friends. He wanted information – he asked for it politely – begged even. It would have been churlish not to have imparted it."

"'Churlish not to have imparted it'?" Lupin repeated with a chuckle. "Honestly, Severus, you don't fool me with that imperious Death Eater act for one minute," Lupin continued, laughing as he spoke, "I think if I work on this hard enough, by the time the Voldemort falls, you and Sirius will be bosom buddies. Hell, he might even be godfather to the kids ..."

Snape heard Lupin break off his own sentence and the laughter stop as if mentally admonishing himself. Lupin came back into the sitting room, his face concerned.

"I'm sorry, Severus, it was only a joke. I didn't mean ..."

Snape stood quickly, resolving the longstanding matter on the instant as Lupin spoke, and took Lupin gently by the shoulders and kissed him.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all," Snape said.

"I shouldn't make jokes that make you uncomfortable. I vowed ..."

"No," insisted Snape, and cupped Lupin's face in his hands. "If the Dark Lord falls, I will release you from that vow."

Lupin blinked several times in quick succession and then a huge, bright smile broke over his face.

"You will! You mean it?" Lupin said breathily, his hands clasping Snape's waist. "You've thought it through?"

"Yes, I mean it. Yes, I've thought it through." Snape felt himself flushing very deeply indeed, especially as he recalled his secreted potion that Lupin knew nothing of. He'd been thinking on it for a long time, and now he'd confessed he found himself acutely embarrassed and wittering. "Well, I mean, I might be too old or ... well, yes. I'm only considering it. Don take on, or go on about it, or..."

This time, Snape found his own sentence stopped with a kiss – deep, loving and passionate.

"Thank you, Severus – thank you for even considering it," Lupin whispered.
- 64
- 65
- 66
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

You Will Not Kiss Me