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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
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Chapter 70: A Taste of Heaven and Mercy

These would be tender times. For these few days at least, Snape knew neither of his masters would summon him, and this would be their time.

They had slept, cradled in each other's arms. Although the sun shone weakly through the net curtains of their bedroom window at Spinner's End, this morning seemed like such a bright morning to Snape. After a week of plotting torture scenarios and enacting them, now he felt like a man reprieved and all he could do at this time was to drink the sight that always made him feel so light in heart and mind.

There were times (and Snape had to admit they weren't often) when Snape liked to sit upon the bed, legs curled to the side, and just explore Lupin's body. Not for lust, but just because he enjoyed the feel of Lupin's skin under his fingertips and the way Lupin would never take his eyes from Snape's face, even though Snape would watch his own hand's progress. It would usually only happen if they were spent sexually as it seemed it didn't take much for Snape's touch to ignite Lupin's desire. And once Lupin became aroused, then really it was only a matter of time ...

But this was a distraction. This was one of those other times when he would let his hands wander luxuriously slowly over Lupin in a way that he had never even contemplated wanting to before Lupin. Lupin lay stretched out before him, one arm behind his head, the other relaxed at his side as he watched Snape gently and slowly running his fingers along the edge of his rib cage and down the plane of Lupin's side, smoothing them over Lupin's hip bone and around his thigh muscle. He swept across the soft inner thigh, then through the curled brown hair on the pubic bone and traced around and across his stomach in lazy diminishing circles until he was tracing Lupin's navel. He followed the midriff line to the breast bone and smoothed along the pectoral muscle then up to trace the clavicle until his fingers met the hollow at the base of Lupin's throat.

Snape moved his fingers away. Tracing Lupin's neck and ears always aroused Lupin. He wanted to explore his skin more first. His fingers traced back along Lupin's chest, across his shoulder joint and his hand smoothed the bicep muscle and then the muscles in Lupin's forearm, so clearly defined, then they reached his hand. Snape's fingers stroked the back of Lupin's hand and the soft spaces between the fingers and then enfolded the fingers with his own.

He looked up at Lupin, to the soft blue eyes that beheld him. And he smiled.

Lupin smiled back and softly stroked Snape's stomach as he always did. Snape flinched as the gentle fingers touched his new scars.

Lupin sat up, taking one of Snape's shoulders in his hand. "Does it hurt still, my love?"

"No," Snape said softly, "but it's ugly." Snape found that now he had become comfortable with, and even welcomed, Lupin's attentions to his stomach, he would miss them if they were withdrawn because he was now scarred.

Lupin took Snape's hand in his and guided Snape's fingers over the large puckered silver Turning bite that marred his body more than any other of his many scars.

"Ugly," Lupin said simply.

"No!" Snape protested.

"No," Lupin repeated to him quietly as he traced the scars across Snape's ribs and leant in to kiss each one. Snape's eyes closed slowly, and he stroked Lupin's hair softly.

"It's time," Snape said. "I'm ready."

Lupin sat up and nodded, collected his wand from the bedside cabinet and poised his wand as held Snape's face as gently as Snape had held Lupin's before.

Snape collected the foul forgeries to the front of his mind, and met Lupin's eyes.

"Obliviate."

oooOOOooo

Minerva had agreed to look after his House whilst he extended his Easter break for work for the Order. Apparently, Umbridge was angered by his absence, Minerva had wryly informed him. Well, he would deal with her when it was necessary. In the scheme of his concerns, Umbridge rated just below keeping his Flobberworm supplies up to date. Like it or not, however, he did have work to do.

"Sooner or later," Snape said to Lupin's enquiry about the documents spread out on the small table in the sitting room, "I have to do some work for the school. I go back next week." He picked up Lupin's hand that rested on his shoulder, and kissed it lightly, as Lupin leant in to see what Snape was working on.

"Careers advice for the fifth formers," Snape announced. He put the papers he was holding down as Lupin pulled up a chair. "It's so pointless, Remus. All the purebloods will be what their parents were before them. No magic of discovery and achievement for any of them. Effectively, they'll all become just breeding stock within their tight community. Look at them: Draco Malfoy, although he may take a sideline at the Ministry, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, although I may concoct a sterility potion in their particular cases."

"Severus, you're hardly taking this seriously," Lupin laughed.

"That is all these children are for: to carry on each benighted family's lineage. Sometimes, I can't even be bothered to be creative. As it is, I get Howlers from parents believing I'm trying to persuade their children to counter-jump into trade."

"But you do try ...?"

"Of course, I try ... I'm just saying that it is a pointless exercise that I carry out every single year. Look – look at this." He passed over a card of grades and teachers' comments to Lupin. "Theodore Nott: he's an exemplary potions student. He could easily be an Apothecary, or any related profession – a Healer, a Magivet. He's a clever boy. I think he'd like to be solitary, but he's afraid not to be part of the group his father has chosen for him, so, of course, he hangs around with Draco Malfoy. Half the time, he looks as if he hates it; the other half, he's just happy not to be noticed." Snape sighed heavily.

He picked up another card, as if telling an unpleasant fortune. "Blaise Zabini: his Arithmancy and Runes work is top-notch, and his Charms and Defence work is exceptional – he could be an Auror, a Curse Breaker, any profession requiring a sharp intellect and good skills and reactions. For a boy of his ability, the wizarding world would offer him many opportunities. But, he will marry, sit on his fortune and breed more pure-blood children. There it is; it's not up for question.

"Millicent Bulstrode," Snape picked up her card with his annotations. "A surly, unpleasant child, no doubt brought about by her less than appealing appearance, such is the vacuity of our society. An arranged marriage for her, without question, especially as her blood-line became diluted with her father's unfortunate marriage to her half-blood mother. They will be looking to correct that with their choice of husband. She will not be expected to work. Indeed, it would be most unwelcome." He leant forward to Lupin. "The girl adores animals, Remus. Her father has a hobby farm and breeds Abraxans.* You should see the difference in the child when she talks of them. Her face lights up with a smile so broad and bright. She is knowledgeable about their care, training and breeding and she's a natural at Care of Magical Creatures. I will discuss Magizoology with her, Magiveterinary nursing and even joining her father's own stud farm. She will harbour hopes for a future as long as it takes her to tell her parents and then I will receive a Howler of monumental ferocity from Brutus Bulstrode the very next day, I can assure you."

Snape pinched his nose as he picked up the next card, and frowned deeply. "Some of the most beautiful student prose and poetry I have ever read has been written by one of the most unpleasant students I have ever had the misfortune to teach. Pansy Parkinson is an exemplar of her type: an entitled bully. Every facet of her personality that I despise has been engendered and nurtured in her by her parents to be reproduced at the earliest opportunity. And yet, the child has a turn of phrase, an appreciation of the written word, a feel and love of language that belies her vapid prospects. How much better for her to study literature or journalism and maybe bring out that love of beauty that clearly resides in her mind but which her upbringing has repressed?

"Truly, Remus, I am defeated at every turn." Snape looked at the pile of cards despondently.

"You know so much more about your students than I ever realised, Severus." Lupin said, proudly. "But, tell me, do you really think Draco will end up in the Ministry, like his father?" Lupin picked up the card that Snape had been working on for Draco Malfoy.

"He has learnt the machinations of the Ministry and the power of Galleons at his father's knee," Snape said with derision. "I would be surprised if he did not. He had a cadre of cronies from his first day at school, some just brawn," Snape picked up Goyle and Crabbe's cards, "and some talented, just like a true political sponsor." He leaned back in the chair and looked at Lupin. "The sad thing is the waste of talent. He's a bright boy, but he is privileged, indulged and steeped in his father's hatred and prejudices."

"You don't think he'll join Voldemort, do you?" Lupin asked sadly.

"I think it's just a matter of time."

oooOOOooo

There were times (and Snape had to admit they weren't often) when Lupin liked to explore Snape's body but liked Snape to allow him free reign. He would push Snape's arms up slowly to grip the bedstead so Lupin was free to drive him wild. Lupin liked to stroke Snape's skin and watch his passion ignite. He liked to touch him in all the places that Snape enjoyed and slowly make him insensible with desire. Lupin enjoyed telling Snape softly, in his ear, what he would do next, to see Snape shiver in expectation.

As his fingers would lightly stroke down the tendons of Snape's long neck and abrade the bites on his chest, Lupin would nip Snape's neck, asking him if his hand should go lower or should it be his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, his lips. What would Snape want? What would he want most? Snape wanted it all. He yearned for it all. At first, he would be able to say what he wanted, but as Lupin progressed down his body, the thrills becoming more insistent, the tingling of his skin becoming deeper, the desire in his groin becoming hotter, he would become less able to speak as his throat became dry and obstructed. By this time, Snape could no longer speak. He was now on fire. He would become desperate to hold Lupin, to kiss him, to guide him where he needed him. But this was Lupin's time – how Lupin wanted it to be. All Snape could do was to encourage with his writhing body and guttural noises of luxurious desire.

Finally, when Lupin's hands and mouth had Snape sweating and arching under his touch, he would place his fingers and know Snape would open for him, wet and hot, that his fingers weren't needed, but they were desired, as he lay to one side of Snape's glistening, tense body and snaked his fingers in. A low growl of pent up desire would escape from Snape's throat and unable to resist he would drive his own body down on them, as Lupin whispered encouragement into his ear, licking and nibbling the lobe. "That's it, my love. Harder. Do it harder for me. Beautiful, so beautiful."

Snape would whimper in the back of his throat, almost a growl, feeling so open and now needing to be filled, as his body would arch and twist onto Lupin's fingers. Lupin would push his fingers in harder and until Snape cried out and arched sharply, his prostate found, his vision blossoming out, as he would push himself on again, needing the feeling, wanting the feeling but now too hot in his body to bear postponement any longer.

Snape was panting now and Lupin agonisingly slowly positioned himself over Snape until they were face to face, as Lupin whispered how he loved him as he guided himself in, and Snape groaned low in his throat as the hot friction seared inside him at last and his grip on the bedstead tightened. Lupin rocked gently but deeply into him, each thrust heating him inside and provoking that same low groan. Not be able to touch Lupin, whilst it intensified the glorious sensations Lupin provoked, also heightened the tension in Snape's body until he felt as if he would snap with each thrust until he could bear the tension no longer and growled, "Please, Remus. Let me ... please!"

With that plea, Lupin rested his body onto Snape's, kissing Snape deeply as Snape wrapped his legs around Lupin's waist, one hand holding Lupin's head into the kiss greedily and they both now moved against each other, wantonly and deeply, with Snape crying out each time his prostate was hit as Lupin stroked his cock now to bring him on. He couldn't last long now, his head and body were so thick with deep red hot desire. Just a few more core-piercing thrusts and he came so hard, his release was a ragged noise, ripped from his throat as Lupin cried out Snape's name as he pulsed inside him.

Never, just never ... he thought to himself wildly, panting, stunned by the strength of his orgasm as it slowly ebbed away, and Lupin let himself slip next to Snape, holding his outstretched hand to Snape's chest over his heart, until it calmed once more.

"Thank you, Severus. I don't know how I can ever repay you ..." Lupin said as they walked noisily down the hallway of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Get in, Lupin, and stop wagging your tail. I know you're grateful. Any more of that and I'll douse your flea collar with slow-acting tincture of arsenic. Enough!" Snape grumbled loudly as they barged into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore having ensured most of the Order members would be there before an Order meeting and that Black had been suitably primed on the "rescue". The waiting members rushed to greet Lupin with a cacophony of questions, while Tonks and David watched Snape with barely concealed distrust. Dumbledore remained aloof from it all.

"There's no need to speak to him like that, Snivellus!" Black said loudly, grabbing Lupin into a back-slapping hug.

"Would you care to ask me if your friend has any back or rib injuries, Black?" Snape asked snidely.

"Any chance you two could be remotely decent to each other? I've had a bit of a trying time," Lupin asked hopefully, although his smile was huge for all those who smiled so readily at him.

"No chance at all," Black said. "He only saved you because otherwise Albus would shop him to the Aurors, we all know that."

"Stop being such a drama queen, Lupin. I got you out. You're healed and back at home with your loving pooch. Can we just get on with the meeting?" Snape growled, glowering at Black.

With that, the rest of the Order members piled in to welcome Lupin home as Snape stood to one side, his face impassive, and Black, on the other side of the table, equally impassive, nodded his unspoken thanks, and then turned to listen to David and Tonks telling Lupin excitedly about their friends, Amelie and Jasper's new baby girl, born without Lycanthropy. Lupin greeted the news enthusiastically, managing to catch Snape's eyes over the heads of the others.

Well done, you.

There had, of course, been substantial news to discuss with Dumbledore, news that wasn't for the ears of the Order, all of which had been lost in the tumultuous events of the past week. How were the wards to be strengthened, especially now he refused to teach Potter? It had only been over a week since he had lost his temper so completely with Potter and he would have to confess all to Dumbledore, even if he hadn't yet had done so to Lupin.

"The authority rests with the head teacher of the school, and the head teacher alone, or Voldemort himself could just take the wards down," Dumbledore explained. "Even if I went at the dead of night, the wards will not recognise me to do any rebuilding."

"That's not so. Do you realise that she can't get into your office? The castle does not recognise Dolores Umbridge as the Headmistress," Snape said urgently.

"You don't say," Dumbledore chuckled, and stroked his beard. "That's quite remarkable."

"Besides," Snape said, bracing himself for the onslaught of ... disappointment, "I am not teaching Potter any more; inaction is not an option."

Dumbledore's eyebrow twitched, and his amusement at castle's refusal to acknowledge Umbridge vanished. The atmosphere in Snape's sitting room deadened.

"Why, may I ask?" Dumbledore eventually asked quietly.

Snape told Dumbledore what happened with the Pensieve. Hard though telling him he refused to teach Potter may have been; harder still was telling Dumbledore, who so clearly disapproved of Snape's incendiary temper at the best of times, how he had shaken the boy, thrown the boy, launched missiles at the boy that only missed because the boy stumbled. When he finished, he waited. Dumbledore stood and paced the floor of Black's library.

"Was I in some way unclear when I told you why I could not teach the boy myself? The danger in which that would place us all?" Dumbledore said, disappointment heavy in his voice.

"No, but ..."

"Did I not give you lucid reasons why Remus could not be taken from his infiltration missions?" Dumbledore persisted.

This time, Snape said nothing. There was little point if he was to be unceremoniously interrupted. His face became a mask and he became very still, awaiting a litany of faults to be laid at his door.

"Could you not put your teenage hurts and wounds aside so we all may be protected against Voldemort? Could you not find it within you to protect Lily's boy from possession." Now, Dumbledore waited for an answer, but Snape said nothing as his stomach knotted at the accusation, unfair and foul as he found it. But had he tried. Had he really tried? Yes, he believed he had. But he was only human. When would Dumbledore acknowledge that Snape was as frail as any other man? Why was more expected of him than of any other?

He looked Dumbledore straight in the eyes, but his expression remained blank. They regarded at each other, not challenging but appraising. Finally, Snape spoke, slowly and deliberately so there should be no misunderstanding between the them.

"I am not proud of my reaction to the boy's prying. Neither will I apologise for it. He had no right to pry. The boy pushes at boundaries without thought constantly. Perhaps he will think twice before he does so again. I will not, however, stake anything I value upon his learning any restaint." Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Snape cut across him, his voice increasing in volume. "Would it not have been worth the risk of your speaking to the boy so he understood the importance of what I was trying to impart? That the visions he received were not the gift he thought them to be?" Snape said, affecting Dumbledore's tone in response. "Did I not warn you that I was the wrong person to teach him? Did I not tell you that the boy would not learn with me? Did I not tell you that he did nothing but hurt himself in those lessons? Since he refused to learn, never once practising, it follows that stopping the lessons cannot harm him. In fact, perhaps now he does not have me as the target for his animosity, he may be able to calm his own mind more. The wards, however, Albus. The wards can make the difference ..."

oooOOOooo

Snape had gone with Lupin to Whitby, just for that evening before Lupin went to find the pack with David the next day. Snape was going to transfigure his clothes from robes to Muggle wear, but Lupin stopped him.

"This is probably the one Muggle town in England where they'll see your robe and hair and take no notice whatsoever. It's Whitby, Severus, Whitby." Lupin said this as if Snape should know why Whitby would be different from anywhere else where robes would be odd, at the very least. Snape looked blank at Lupin's knowing insistence. Lupin rolled his eyes in an impression of Snape.

"Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'?" Lupin said, expectantly. Snape still looked puzzled, and Lupin laughed. "This town gets many visitors dressed like vampires because Whitby is where Stoker had his eponymous creation disembark from his voyage from Transylvania. It even has a Gothic festival in September. It earns a mint from these visitors so a chap in a flowing black robe? Completely natural – welcome even."

Snape laughed softly. "I bet there's a fair few real vampires that take advantage of that."

"So do I. And not just vampires by the look of it," Lupin said, pointing to a poster pasted to a brick wall.

THE WHITBY PALAIS

presents

playing LIVE

CONWAY & THE WHITBY WEREWOLVES

Featuring their smash hits:

LYCAN YOU LOVE ME?

LOVE AT FIRST BITE

TURN WITH ME!

"At least, we won't have to look far," Lupin said, with a smile.

"You know it's them?" Snape enquired, his eyes wide at such a public proclamation, flagrantly in breach of the Statute of Secrecy and then grimacing at the poor puns in the song titles.

"Oh yes," Lupin said, jabbing the photo of 'Conway' on the poster: stocky, long blonde hair, over-large trench coat with the collar raised, and clearly playing up to his werewolf nature for his rock singer image in the snarl on his face. "I met him during the last Wizarding War. He had just set up this band." Lupin chuckled. "It could only happen in Whitby. When our intelligence said Whitby werewolves, I wonder if the collators had any idea ..." Lupin shook his head in amusement.

"Does it help that you've met him before? Will he be sympathetic to the Order's cause?" Snape asked.

"I think so. I certainly don't believe he could see a future for himself and his rock band under Voldemort, do you? I think David and I should ask if the band need any roadies."

Snape looked at his husband's profile and its amused expression and couldn't help but admire how Lupin just seemed to adapt to everything that was thrown at him, no matter how unexpected. Perhaps, it was his lifetime of moving on, voluntary or otherwise. Could anyone ever imagine Severus Snape applying to be a roadie?

It was dusk and they walked around the old town, Lupin pointing out places or architecture of interest, as they strolled down atmospheric, old, pokey, winding streets of fishermen's cottages and then they walked along the harbour wall, hand in hand, the sea air bracing as it slowly became chillier as the April night drew in. Lupin had this mad idea that they should eat fish and chips here.

"Surely we can do better than that," Snape said, supremely conscious of his working class upbringing, tainting the image of this food that he so often had as a boy, with the coppers he could find, if he were to eat at all.

"Snob," Lupin mock chided. "You'll get no better or fresher quality fish than here in Whitby. I tell you, Severus, fish and chips in Whitby, eaten here by the sea wall, will be unlike anything you ever tasted in Cokeworth."

So it was, in the old town under the Gothic ruins of Whitby Abbey, tasting the salt in the air as they ate prime fish with chips doused in vinegar, with no need of salt when the air was so laden with it from the brine of the sea. Snape couldn't deny it: this humble supper, wrapped in paper, sitting on the harbour wall next to his beloved, tasted incredible to him – nothing could have been finer. It was a taste of freedom deferred. Once they finished, Snape Banished the wrappers and they leant into one another as the harsh April wind whipped the salted sea air around them. To Snape, it was a small taste of heaven.

oooOOOooo

Of course, Snape knew he would have to pay the price, and was more than willing to pay it. The Dark Lord believed the deception was his own, not Snape's. Lupin was returned to the Order at the Dark Lord's wish so Dumbledore would think that Snape was loyal. But, to the Dark Lord's mind, Dumbledore would expect Snape to be tortured for his ineptitude, or he would guess the escape was a ruse. The other Death Eaters must not know that the beast's escape was a deception in case they were injudicious to whom they repeated it. The Dark Lord had, however, conceded to Snape in private before joining the full meeting that a blood penalty would not be extracted on this occasion. Indeed, on this occasion, the Dark Lord would be - merciful. Snape had, of course, grovelled in gratitude.

So be it.

Crucio!

Snape had not told Lupin it would happen and nor would Snape tell him. As he turned in the air, convulsing and screaming, before the assembled inner circle to atone for losing his prisoner, it mattered not that this was real torture, not cobbled together through Glamour and spellwork. It only mattered that the deception (no matter who claimed it) had got Lupin away from this monster.

For Snape knew only too well the consequences of failure. He had failed before. This time, he had sworn: he would do anything to keep Lupin safe. Even this.

* Abraxan - a winged horse, and like a giant Palomino - Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them
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You Will Not Kiss Me