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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
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Chapter 73: The Dark Lord Denied

No sign. There was no sign.

Snape had searched for ages, casting revealing and direction spells. Nothing, nothing at all.

Of course, he hadn't gone to the centre of the forest. No-one went there but Hagrid and Dumbledore – where the Acromantulas were. And the centaurs.

But he was deep in already. As deep as ever he came when he used to escape from his House mates. But he had never been further than this. His tracking spells had led him here. There were traces of a scuffle on the forest floor. Centaurs' arrows. His lips pursed – that didn't bode well. Giant footprints. Not just hyperbole for large, but larger even than Hagrid's. He held his wand high looking for other signs. Broken branches, high in the trees. He didn't know what the meaning of it all could be. He saw the centaurs' hoof prints leading deeper into the forest. He cast again, but this time, he saw two sets of foot prints away from this scene. He followed them, and found them joined by other foot prints – leading to - what were these? Not centaur hoof prints, hoof prints coming to a point at the centre of the curve – Thestrals.

No! He looked around again and followed the Thestral hoof prints, squatting to trace the prints in the dirt of the forest floor as he felt his stomach sinking – these were running tracks – running prior to taking flight – six of them. He closed his eyes slowly – six children held in Umbridge's office. They'd taken the Thestrals to fly to the Ministry.

How long had they been gone? He swore loudly, cursing the boy's idiocy, kicking the dirt up and started to stride back towards the castle.

The Dark Mark burned. It blazed furiously.

Snape fell to his hands and knees with the sudden viciousness of the burn, his eyes went wide and watered as he gasped, "No!"

The blaze of the burn told him: it was either triumph or fury. He turned his head, screwing his eyes shut to summon the strength to stand, but the burning blaze pulsed on and on, flaming his arm. Snape knew then.

Fury.

oooOOOooo

He Apparated once more to the dining room at Malfoy Manor, and to the sights and sounds of Bellatrix under the Cruciatus curse, turning in the air. At the outskirts of the room, Travers, Wilkes Pettigrew, Narcissa, Miles, Courtney and Markham cowered, each trembling from post-Cruciatus tremens. Snape Occluded deeply to try to still the rushing of blood in his veins as his heart hammered uncomfortably hard.

"You have failed me!" the Dark Lord spat. "All have failed me!" His voice began to rise, his temper unrestrained as he began to shriek at the woman writhing in the air. "I bring the boy to you, and twelve of my most trusted lieutenants are unable to subdue six children! Now the Prophecy is destroyed! How do I find out how to defeat the boy now?"

The Dark Lord had failed. Snape felt a small thrill of triumph but squashed it. He knew he'd been summoned as another scapegoat for the Dark Lord's fury. He felt it in the summons that was still pulsing through his arm. Wherever the others currently were, their forearms would now feel as if they were being roasted on an open spit. There would be no relief for them: whilst the Dark Lord remained incandescent, their Dark Marks would incandesce, attuned to his will.

The Dark Lord ceased his spell and Bellatrix fell heavily to the floor, panting and burbling as she begged for mercy.

"But my Lord," she gasped, "the Order of the Phoenix ..."

"... Arrived later, Bellatrix! And only four of them! You still should have managed to despatch more than just one! Do not try to deceive me! CRUCIO!" The Dark Lord twisted his body to give more force to the curse.

Snape's blood froze. Who? Who had Bellatrix killed? The nauseating freezing sensation crawled under his skin. He had no way to ask that wouldn't look unnatural. He would have to wait – bide his time. That too was torture.

Snape stood, still like a rock, watching Bellatrix twist in re-applied bursts of torture, her face a strained mask of agony until the Dark Lord tired of it and, as he had done with Snape before, flung her twitching, convulsing body away from him.

The Dark Lord stood panting, his fury not yet spent. Snape readied himself as much as he was able as the Dark Lord spun sinuously towards him.

"My Lord! What has happened? I … I had no summons my Lord!" Snape exclaimed, as if sorry to have missed whatever mission had happened.

"Severus! I did not call you. I wanted you blameless. Fool that I was to trust these," he scowled at Bellatrix's barely conscious body, "these – idiots – no better than Squibs! Take her out of my sight!" the Dark Lord barked at Narcissa. She inched towards her sister, too terrified to draw attention to herself and Snape saw her face was drawn, her hair and clothes dishevelled as he'd never seen her. He saw the pulse of the Cruciatus chase across her hands revealing that she, too, had been tortured, albeit briefly as she Levitated her sister as quickly as she was able from the room to the door held open by Pettigrew, his skin also jumping and twitching – except for the silver of his magical hand.

"All of you, OUT!" the Dark Lord yelled, "except ... Severus."

When they were alone, the Dark Lord breathed as if meditating, then he turned to Snape and placed one hand on his shoulder, a confidential action as if they were - friends. Tonight - Snape was favoured. The Dark Lord spoke slowly.

"I planted a vision of the blood-traitor and animagus Black being tortured in the Prophecy Room for Harry Potter. He took the bait precisely according to my plan. A plan of meticulous detail, Severus, right down to ensuring that Black's house-elf was there to ensure the boy could not find out that Black was safe in his mother's house after all …"

Kreacher! Snape thought. That's why Potter was distraught. He's been told Black had already gone.

"… Harry Potter took the bait. Of course he did! Weak, pathetically heroic child," the Dark Lord spat with clear disgust. "He and five of his little school friends mounted a rescue mission." The Dark Lord was sneering now. "He went, exactly as I directed, and retrieved the Prophecy. Twelve of my Death Eaters were there to retrieve it from him …"

The Dark Lord paced, his magic reverberating menacingly, staring at the floor as if the answer could be found there. The monstrous snake hissed loudly from its coil near the grand stone fireplace.

"… Twelve, Severus! Count them: Lucius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Dolohov, Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Nott, Rookwood, Jugson and Mulciber!" the Dark Lord enumerated, counting each off on his long fingers. "Six children duelled my Death Eaters," the Dark Lord emphasised the word as if the very idea were unthinkable. "Oh, there were some minor injuries to them, but the Prophecy was smashed. It is gone!" He swiped his hand in a gesture of fury.

Snape had to speak, had to try to calm the Dark Lord, deflect him from the explosion of temper that was building – that could kill Snape if it were unleashed full force.

"Had I known, my Lord, I could have assisted in the endeavour. Broken my cover to follow him … I would not have failed you, my Lord," Snape said, bowing low.

"You are a good and faithful servant, Severus. I understand I ask much of you to remain in such a place, pandering to such a weak old man and his so-called Order of half-bloods and blood traitors and half-breeds. It must be … sickening when you would rather be at my side."

Snape acknowledged and kept his bow low, feeling the reverberation begin to recede and be restrained as the Dark Lord's pacing began to slow, measure by measure. When Snape judged the Dark Lord had calmed enough, he asked, "My Lord? Which Order member has been disposed of?" He felt his heart flutter weakly and his stomach roil. Dear Merlin, don't let it be Remus, don't let it be Remus, don't let it be Remus ...

"The animagus. Knocked through the Veil by Bellatrix. Death – without dying," the Dark Lord smiled unpleasantly, stretching the scaly white skin over the bones of his flat visage. "Poetic, is it not? You must be pleased, Severus. You loathed him so, did you not?"

He did not hide his body's release of tension from the Dark Lord, but he Occluded his deep, deep relief - no, joy - that it was not Lupin that was killed. He did not know if Lupin was hurt but would need to bide his time to ask the question. But he did know that Lupin would be heartbroken, but at least, he was with friends. Snape found it was not within him to mourn for Black, no matter what tentative steps towards accommodation they had made – his relief that Lupin had not been taken from him was too enormous. He struggled to maintain his cold, efficient demeanour, but schooled himself. Let the madman think Snape rejoiced. It mattered not.

"My Lord, you could not have told me more welcome news. Had your own loss not been so egregious, it would have been a triumph for our cause."

"You are correct, Severus. As always," the Dark Lord sighed. "In more ways than you know. I ..I … had to rescue Bellatrix," the Dark Lord stabbed at his chest. "I had to go to the Department of Mysteries when I realised they had been too long and it must be going wrong. And now, my rebirth has been confirmed by the sightings of me. I had wished for more time to prepare … perfect my weapons. I have not perfected enough." The Dark Lord inhaled deeply, fuelling his anger. "Fudge cannot now continue to deny the evidence of his own eyes or those officials who were with him. The others are …" the Dark Lord sneered hideously, "incarcerated. I will call away the Dementors from Azkaban, but not until my Death Eaters have learnt their lesson. I will have to make a stand, Severus. I will need to establish my authority as quickly as possible. Key people must be removed. A spectacle of power must be arranged. We need to achieve as much as possible in a short space of time between us. Perhaps, a hospital. An orphanage." The Dark Lord's crimson eyes darkened with malice.

"If I may make the suggestion, my Lord. There are some…" Snape did his best to sound as if he could not possibly understand that point of view, "who may find such targets … untenable. Might I suggest a structure – to be symbolic – an exhibition of destructive power rather than mass deaths of Muggles – at least until your recruitment proceeds apace." He bowed again.

"Wise advice, Severus. After all, we have a better plan for the demise of Muggles, do we not?" The Dark Lord turned to him and his head inclined in enquiry. "My potion, Severus. I trust it progresses well and that I will not find you ... wanting."

Snape felt his throat dry out. Mass deaths were what the Dark Lord desired. He would not be deflected as Snape had hoped. Snape felt the Dark Lord's magic charge.

oooOOOooo

Snape staggered through the Floo at Grimmauld Place. He should have gone to Poppy straight away, but he wanted to find Lupin. He knew he must be devastated. He should be with him.

The house was eerily silent. Snape didn't think he had ever heard it so ... still. He felt sure that nothing was alive in this place, but he had to check.

Snape stood at the foot of the stairs, a shaking hand on the newell post, one foot on the first tread. He looked up the staircase, fearful of what he would find. He cast Remus Lupin Revelio. He was not there.

He stood for a while. Where could he be? Injured? St. Mungo's?

"Accio enchanted mirror!"

Nothing came. Lupin must have it with him.

Snape had no time to waste looking there, if he wasn't there. He needed to get back to the dungeons to find the mirror, find Lupin, find Dumbledore. He left by the front door and Disapparated to the edge of the wards of Hogwarts.

He rushed back to the dungeons and unlocked the wards to push open the heavy door, straight into Lupin's waiting arms.

Thank Merlin.

oooOOOooo

Lupin held Snape at arm's length, staring at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Snape's eyes darted to the table and an open bottle of Firewhiskey and understood. He had no idea how long Lupin had been here in his room, but Snape knew he'd been with the Dark Lord for hours and Lupin had drunk an obscene amount of alcohol and his swaying body and bloodshot eyes showed it.

"You've been with him? And her, the murdering bitch?" Lupin spat as he swayed.

"I was called, yes," Snape said, watching Lupin carefully. He'd never seen Lupin as anything other than a happy drunk. This was different. Understandable, but worryingly different.

"Are the others here? Kingsley? Moody? Tonks?" Snape asked.

"St. Mungo's. Got injured," Lupin said, his eyes narrowing. Snape nodded.

"Remus," said Snape softly, "I'm sorry about ..."

"Are you?" Lupin swayed, still holding Snape's arms. "Or is it quite convenient? Won't have to put up with me badgering you to accept him anymore now ..."

"No, Remus, that's not true," Snape said quickly, but keeping his voice quiet.

Lupin stumbled away from Snape, waving at him dismissively, and then fell heavily onto the settee.

Snape sat on the settee carefully, trying not to crowd Lupin.

"Remus. I know ..."

"You have no idea!" Lupin suddenly burst out. "When did you ever allow yourself to care for anyone before to know?"

"You mean apart from you?" Snape asked, his heart suddenly full of pain at the hateful look on Lupin's face.

Lupin stared and then blinked. "Friends, I mean friends! You don't know what this feels like – again. To feel it for him twice."

What could Snape say? He wanted to yell at Lupin that he knew damn well. His heart had broken the same night as Lupin's had. His one and true friend had died with Lupin's, protecting that boy. That boy whom he was under a geas to protect but who refused to be protected; refused to trust anyone, even though it had now cost the life of his godfather.

"This time," Lupin said, his voice starting to tremble, "there's no mistake – no "not really dead" as it was with little Peter – it's all a dreadful mistake and there he is, back again. Now it's all really true. I saw it with my own eyes." Lupin voice broke. "All my friends are dead except the one who's a traitor responsible for it all. It's like having that wound ripped open again, Sev'rus." Lupin's head fell back as a huge sob lurched from him. "I don't know how to make you understand."

Lupin hadn't said it to be cruel, Snape knew, but it cut deeply that Lupin thought he didn't understand his grief; it cut deeply that Snape could never confess how much he understood. It cut that he could not take this pain from his beloved: this pain that tore at Lupin's emotions. But Snape did know, and he wasn't going to allow Lupin to drive him away in his irrational grief, made so much worse by drink.

"Remus," Snape said gently, "tell me, if you want."

Lupin looked at Snape, his eyes glassy and unfocused and waved his hand in an unco-ordinated dismissive wave again.

"No point," he muttered. "No point to anything. Just get hurt anyway," he slurred.

Snape moved so that he was next to Lupin and he placed a gentle hand on his knee.

Lupin grabbed Snape's head and kissed him hard and messily, the stench of alcohol strong and sickly, then grasped at his body.

"Come to bed. Let's fuck," Lupin drawled, his eyes barely focusing properly.

"No!" Snape said, horrified, then he calmed himself. "No, Remus, talk to me instead."

Lupin grabbed his wrist and pulled him roughly into the bedroom.

"Come on, Sev'rus. Why don't you just fuck me? Make me feel better."

He started to grapple with Snape's robe, too incompetent through drink to use magic as he usually would and he fumbled with the buttons, becoming increasing agitated. Finally, Lupin managed to summon the spell to undo the buttons and pulled the robe off Snape and he started yanking at Snape's shirt.

"Stop that, Remus," Snape said quietly as he pushed Lupin's hands away repeatedly, feeling slightly sick that Lupin thought that this would be what Snape would want, that he would want to hear that coarse language from Lupin's mouth, his dear, sweet mouth.

"C'mon Sev'rus! You know you like to fuck me. You don't have to take your clothes off if you don't want to but I do." Swaying still, he managed to undress himself, nearly falling over when he pulled his boots off.

"Remus, stop this please," Snape kept repeating as he tried to still Lupin's hands with his own.

"I don't want to stop, Sev'rus. I want you to fuck me! COME - ON!" Lupin fell against the bed, pulling Snape with him so he was on top of Lupin's naked body. Lupin writhed underneath him as if it would in some way turn Snape on. But it didn't. Snape found himself repulsed, even though he knew it was the combustible combination of grief and booze. He grappled with Lupin's fumbling searching hands, until his temper broke.

"STOP THAT!" Snape shouted and held Lupin's wrists fast above his head and pinned Lupin's body with his own.

He did know how this felt. He knew exactly how this felt. It was how he felt when he ended up on all fours before some brute of a Muggle he'd picked up in a rough East End bar a week after Lily had died. He'd done it partly to punish himself in the most intimate way possible, humiliating and disgusting himself, but also – to prove that he could still feel something - anything - through the bruising grief that had consumed him.

He knew exactly what this was. And he would not bruise his husband in his grief, no matter how much Lupin thought he wanted it or needed it – that it was in some way exculpatory. He didn't – it wasn't - and Snape would not give it to him.

Holding Lupin's wrists, Lupin's body still bucking under him as tears of frustration and caustic grief rolled down the sides of Lupin's face, Snape pressed against him to try to still him, their faces no more than an inch apart.

"No, no, no, no," Snape whispered into Lupin's mouth. "Beloved, no." Still, Lupin bucked underneath him, in a sad and hopeless, frustrated attempt at harshness that Snape refused to allow. Snape would not reinforce the bleak, savage desolation that Lupin was experiencing.

"No, no, no ..." Snape whispered repeatedly as Lupin gradually stopped moving underneath him. "Stop now and hush." Snape's voice was a mesmeric murmur, soothing Lupin's soul. "Shush," he crooned quietly, loosening his hold on Lupin's wrists gradually, as Lupin's sobbing became more evenly spaced – slowly, slowly his breath easing as Snape continued to soothe him with his voice, still holding him, gradually moving his hands from Lupin's wrists, bringing Lupin's arms down to his sides, so Snape could bring his own arms over them and hold Lupin's shoulders.

"Remus, beloved," Snape said softly, listening to the soft keening in Lupin's throat that became heart-rending raw sobs torn from his throat, understanding what they meant.

Irreplaceable loss.

Loss that would never be filled.

Hollowness that ached with remembrance.

All this.

And worse.

Snape knew. He remembered.

Snape held Lupin close, fingers spread over the face of the head that now leaned into his chest as Lupin curled himself around Snape, grasping him to himself for comfort as he howled in pain.

Hope destroyed.

The howling of a broken heart.

An old grief, now fresh and glinting sharp.

Snape held him still, as Lupin wept a seemingly endless stream of the bitterest of tears, the rawest of sobs, rocking him slowly as he summoned a sleeping draught.

"Take this, my love, you need to sleep," Snape said gently, lifting Lupin's head to drink the potion. Lupin drank it through his hitching breath, holding Snape's hands as he did so. Snape watched as the Potion began to draw Lupin's eyes closed and fog his brain.

"I played the best prank, Sev'rus, and I wanted to tell ... P-Padfoot." Lupin's tormented eyes searched Snape's own as he whispered, his voice broken with crying and slurred and only just coherent with the drink but now mainly with the Potion. "I pranked Malfoy. I wanted to tell Sirius. I used that spell on Malfoy. You should have seen his face. I wanted to tell him ... God, he would have ... would have ... laughed." Lupin drifted off into drug-induced sleep, as Snape smoothed his hair, wishing he could have saved the mutt's life just to remove that pain from Lupin's eyes.

Finally, he heard the soft regular sounds of sleep as Lupin's body became heavy against him. He gently disentangled himself from Lupin's arms and legs, and left the bedroom.

He threw the Floo powder into the fire and asked Poppy to come through.

"I have five injured students, Severus," Poppy said, not unkindly. "Are you able to wait or come through?"

Snape allowed himself a small, bitter smile. Now Lupin was safely asleep, he was freshly aware of his pain. Surely, Poppy knew by now that he always healed himself if he was able.

"No, Poppy, I don't believe I am," Snape said as stoically as he could.

"Of course, Severus." With that, Poppy spun through and stepped out smartly, her frown deepened as she took in his pale face and shirt soaked red and sticking to his back.

"Severus!" she gasped harshly. "Why didn't you come to me earlier? Did he keep you there like this?" she said, as she patted gently to see how badly the material was stuck to his flesh.

"I had something to attend to first," Snape replied obliquely. Snape saw Poppy's eyes dart to the bedroom where Lupin was sleeping, visible to the drawing room.

Poppy sighed. "I know what happened tonight." She sat him on a chair turned backwards so he could rest against the chair back, and she talked as she cast a charm that steamed his shirt, softening the dried blood so she could remove the shirt and then she dropped it on the floor. "I have five students in the hospital wing because his followers duelled them. Duelled children, Severus!" She huffed crossly then her face softened. "Remus and another Ministry official brought them here. I heard about Sirius." He heard her sharp intake of breath as she looked at his back.

"Oh Severus," she said quietly, a small squeeze to his upper arm. He felt the warmth of her healing spells as she cleansed and closed each long, deep slash left by the Dark Lord's Whipping Hex for his failure to perfect the Muggle-murdering poison. He let his head fall onto his arms as the relief of healing settled into his skin, Poppy working quietly and efficiently, hands deftly following the work of her dextrous wand until every wound had been sealed and healed.

"I suppose I don't need to ask you if you need a Pain-Relieving Potion?" she said, a small sad smile on her face.

"I won't take any, thank you, Poppy," Snape said, standing and stretching out his back. "I need to be awake in case ... well ... in case Remus wakes. I'll take the blood replenisher though."

Poppy nodded. "I'll apply a balm tomorrow." Then she looked again at the room. "Is he taking it very badly, poor lamb?"

Poor lamb? A werewolf and the only Order member uninjured when hopelessly outnumbered by Death Eaters? Snape couldn't help it – sometimes, he found Poppy – well, women in general really – quite odd. But he said, "Yes, Poppy, very badly."

Poppy smiled sadly, her own eyes clearly stinging as she blinked quickly to dispel the tears.

"Please don't tell him of my injuries. It would only make him feel worse." Lupin could never know. Snape would never add to the pain Lupin felt this night.

"As you wish, dear," Poppy said quietly, reflexively smoothing down her apron once more.

"What injuries did the children have?" Snape asked.

"Ginevra Weasley had a broken ankle. Ronald Weasley has burns from magically disembodied brains and a rather long lasting Confundus." Snape suspected he would be able to tell no difference between Ronald Weasley, with or without a Confundus cast upon his person. "Poor Neville Longbottom was tortured and his nose was broken - and his wand to boot." She shook her head reprovingly. "Luna Lovegood was Stunned, but there are no other injuries for her. Hermione Granger was cursed with a bone-crushing curse."

Dolohov! Snape thought. His speciality curse – somehow deadened. It should have killed Granger outright. Snape wondered if she knew how lucky she was.

"I'll have my hands full brewing for that one then, won't I?" Snape said, nonchalantly, with one eyebrow raised.

"Indeed. Don't think it isn't appreciated, Severus," Poppy said, her tone now more business-like.

"And Potter?" Snape asked, feigning indifference.

"Just cuts and scratches. But, how he'll be in himself, caught in the middle of duel between Albus and You-Know-Who, and losing his godfather ... well, that's another matter, isn't it?"

Snape's face remained impassive, but his mind was in turmoil. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord duelling? He needed to see Dumbledore but he couldn't leave Lupin.

"Poppy, may I ask you to tell Albus I wish to see him, but I don't like to leave ...?" he gestured the bedroom.

"Of course, Severus." Poppy nodded. "Make sure you eat, won't you? You look completely drained."

Snape nodded. He didn't want to eat, or even see Dumbledore, but he needed to do both things. What he wanted was to crawl into bed with Lupin to be there when he awoke to the realisation that his friend was dead. He wanted to be with him every morning until Lupin could awaken without that realisation shattering his world anew every time he opened his eyes.

Snape recollected that feeling – all too well.
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You Will Not Kiss Me