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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
- 73
- 74
- 75
Direct quotes in bold from Chapter 37 of OotP are © J.K. Rowling

Chapter 74: Caring & Recovery

Snape and Dumbledore sat at Snape's small table with a tray of late breakfast that Dumbledore had sent for. Snape picked at some toast, occasionally speading it with sharp marmalade with a knife, although he was far more interested in his large mug of tea, knowing that Dumbledore watched every mouthful.

Snape watched Dumbledore too. Dumbledore tucked in quite happily to some devilled kidneys, making Snape's nostrils twitch with disgust, but Snape also saw how tired he looked, how very – beset. Neither had yet to sleep.

Snape had recounted his summoning in full and Dumbledore knew that Lupin slept a deeply medicated sleep in the room next door.

"What type of structure do you think Voldemort will go for, Severus?"

"I don't know," Snape sighed. "I was trying to think on my feet to prevent him targeting a high casualty building. He seemed far too keen on the prospect of a Muggle hospital or orphanage. I will try to find out before he takes any action. I dare say, I will be summoned more often now his rebirth is known and term finishes in a fortnight. I expect all action will now escalate sharply. He has no need for secrecy any longer. The only thing we have in our favour is that so many of his inner circle are incarcerated in Azkaban pending trial. And to be honest Albus, their loss isn't really that much of an impediment to the Dark Lord."

The men ate in silence for a short while.

"I want Remus to stay here with me at least until term finishes, now you're Headmaster again," Snape said, his tone brooking no refusal.

Dumbledore regarded him over his half moon glasses, his expression grave, as he sipped his tea from a fragile china cup with violently colourful floral decoration.

"None of us can have too much time to rest, Severus. There is much work for everyone to do, including Remus's work with the packs. You know it is essential. And don't forget, members of the Order will wonder where Remus is. They'll be worried for him. Your cover is even more important to us now."

Snape let his knife clatter loudly on his plate feeling his hold on his tired and frayed temper slipping. "Give him time to grieve, Albus, for pity's sake! It's not even been a half a day. It's only two weeks until the end of term. Now you're back, this will be a safe place for him to stay. He can see the others from the Order when there are meetings, but I won't have you sending him to live on his own at Grimmauld Place!" Snape took a deep breath, and modulated his voice. "He won't cope with it, Albus."

"No, you're right. He can't return to Sirius's house. I'll be going to look for Sirius's will of course and I'd best take Hagrid with me so he can collect Buckbeak. If the house is bequeathed to one of his family, then Kreacher goes with it, and that would never do."

"It would be my pleasure to silence the duplicitous little beast permanently," Snape sneered.

"As appealing as revenge on an ill-used wretch such as that house-elf may seem, it would give you no pleasure in the long run, Severus."

"I'll be the judge of that, Albus. In any event, it would solve our potential problem, would it not?"

Dumbledore gave him a small sad smile. "Or perhaps just entrench the ideals behind it?"

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Just remember, Severus. Voldemort won't wait for Remus to have compassionate leave. You know that better than anyone," Dumbledore said, in that reasonable tone of voice that seemed to provoke Snape unduly.

"Let him rest, Albus, or he'll be no good for your missions, if you prefer to see it that way then," Snape huffed.

"Very well, Severus."

Snape glared at Dumbledore for the amused tone. He really had no time for these games. He was tired, his back was sore, he had a headache starting. He just wanted to have a shower and go to bed with Lupin. He dropped the half-eaten slice of toast he'd been playing with and pinched the bridge of his nose. But there was still so much to do, and he was so very tired.

He would need to set a potions brewing timetable for the ten potions Miss Granger would require. Dolohov, Snape mused. Never to be underestimated in battle – apparently his ruthlessness even extended to children. Then, he recalled another duty would need to be performed; one that would be quite unpleasant.

"Have Malfoy, Crabbe and Nott been told of the fate of their dearly beloved fathers?" Snape asked, wearily.

"No-one has come from the Auror Office as yet. I have suspended all owl deliveries to students at the request of Rufus until later this afternoon pending informing all involved. I suspect the information coming from you rather than the authorities would be appreciated, Severus, unless you prefer me to do it."

"No. I think in all the circumstances I would prefer to tell them. It will be expected of me to - ah - sympathise. Now tell me about your duel with the Dark Lord," Snape said, finally pushing his plate away.

"It is a thrilling tale," Dumbledore said lightly. "I'm sure I cannot do it justice as tired as we both are feeling."

"Nevertheless," Snape challenged, "you must tell me your account, for the Dark Lord must suppose, rightly or wrongly, that I am in your confidence," Snape rebuked. "If he suspects I am not, you understand that my life becomes worthless to him at that point."

"I stand corrected, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly. He recounted it all, from his arrival and rounding up the prisoners, the death of Sirius and Lupin pulling Potter away from throwing himself beyond the Veil, the duel with the Dark Lord, spell by spell, to the Dark Lord's possession of Potter to provoke Dumbledore to strike him down, to the Dark Lord's flight with Bellatrix once Fudge and the Aurors arrived. Snape listened in silence to every detail.

"Has the boy any after-effects of his possession?"

"No, he has been remarkably resilient." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "But I fear the loss of his godfather will hit him hard."

"Especially as he is to blame for it ..." Snape shot at Dumbledore.

"I hardly think that's called for, Severus," Dumbledore reproved.

"You are right. I apologise. You are to blame for it." Snape folded his arms and stretched his legs out. "I warned you his Occlumency lessons would fail and they did fail, rather spectacularly. You would not speak to the boy or find him a teacher other than me. Had he been able to Occlude, his godfather would be alive and scratching his fleas as we speak." That wiped that infernal twinkle from your eyes, Snape thought with a thrill of satisfaction, that wiped itself out on the instant he recalled Lupin in the room next door. He waved a hand in annoyance.

"There is little point going over this ground, Severus. I had hoped you could see past your school-boy grudge."

"Don't you dare lay this at my door, Albus!" Snape said dangerously, leaning forward, his forefinger pointing at Dumbledore. He put his own hand down sharply, but his anger remained. "The child never, never wanted to close his mind, or learn those lessons. Just don't you dare!"

Dumbledore raised his chin and looked at Snape coolly. "I think it is unkind to accuse a child so bitterly, Severus, especially one who has struggled under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school.'

Snape stared at Dumbledore, scarcely giving credence to what he just heard, his fists hidden under the table and whitened with anger and recollection of old abuses. "Did I hear rightly? 'More burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school ...' Really? You overstate your defence in your favouritism of the child, Albus."

Dumbledore pressed his hand against his mouth as he regarded Snape. "You may think so, Severus. Perhaps you do not understand as I do."

"Perhaps, you would care to enlighten me – why Potter's burden is so much greater than others?" Snape bit out.

"You know, Severus, that I cannot divulge all to you, especially as you continue to consolidate your position so well with Voldemort. If I did and Voldemort pries it from you, the battle last night, and the loss of Sirius, will have been for nothing."

Before Snape could respond, Dumbledore stood. "Thank you for breakfast, Severus. Or, perhaps, I should say: for brunch. We both have much to do. I've been reinstated to Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot, and I dare say the other positions will follow. At least, I can be at the forefront of opposition to Voldemort now. I have urgent correspondence to attend to. Letters I'd rather not write. More has been lost than just a godfather, Severus. Others had familial ties to Sirius too," Dumbledore said sadly.*

Snape was momentarily confused, but then he remembered Emmeline. She hadn't been at Grimmauld Place that night. Surely, she knew by now from other Order members although he didn't know that she could be classed as family. Dumbledore left by Floo.

Snape sat at his table, thinking, his mouth resting against the steeple of his hands. Dumbledore never failed to amaze Snape with his casual cruelty – Potter 'struggling with more burdens than any student who ever passed through this school'? Dumbledore had no right to denigrate other students' suffering in that manner. The man incensed him sometimes.

He stood quickly. He had no time for this. He had far too much to be getting on with.

He went to the bathroom and took a shower. He showered for as long as his back would bear, although it smarted uncomfortably. It only partially woke him up. He was desperately tired, but he would need a Pepper-Up Potion instead. He stood under the shower, his face upwards into the shower of water, letting it drum down on his face and body to try to invigorate himself. He scrubbed at his eyes and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, and then turned to leave the shower.

Lupin was standing at the bathroom door. He looked dreadful: his face almost translucent, his eyes reddened and puffy. His look at Snape was so sorrowful. Snape cursed inwardly. He had wanted to be with Lupin when he awoke. He must have spent longer with Dumbledore than he realised.

He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself, going to Lupin carefully.

"Remus. You shouldn't be out of ..."

As Snape approached, Lupin slowly held out Snape's bloody shirt that he must have found on the floor, his face seeming to crumple as he looked from the garment to Snape and he stepped forward reaching one arm around Snape's neck to pull Snape to himself.

"I can't lose you too, Severus..." he said in a small voice, hoarse from that early morning's desperate crying. "I just can't." He started to weep softly again, holding Snape close as he slid onto his knees on the bathroom floor taking Snape with him and Snape held him close in turn, murmuring to reassure him – of what, he couldn't say.

How could he reassure him?

He knew this grief would carve open all old losses anew, sharpening them in Lupin's mind and in his heart.

He knew what Lupin felt now was fathomless desolation.

Snape remembered it.

Grief having no measure – how it felt there could be no end to the pain.

Indeed, there was no end; there was only learning to live with the loss.

Yes. Snape knew.

Snape held Lupin close there on the bathroom floor, unable to bring himself to tell Lupin just how much he understood. But he could be there for him. Hold him and keep him close. Murmur his gentle love to him.

When Lupin's tears began to wane, Snape tried to prise the bloody shirt gently from Lupin's white-knuckled grasp. Lupin's grip tightened.

"How badly did he hurt you?" Lupin whispered, his eyes searching Snape's once more.

"He was angry the Prophecy was lost," Snape said quietly. "But, with all the others you helped to capture depleting his ranks, I got off lightly." Snape smiled tightly, but his attempt at levity failed.

Lupin became more intense. "How badly?" he repeated.

"A Whipping Hex," Snape said eventually, uncomfortable about where this would lead. "Bad enough," he said quietly.

"So," Lupin said, his voice quivering, "I forced myself on you like some foul drunk while you were ... were ..." he broke off and looked down at the bloody shirt in his hand and fingered it with his other hand, his face etched with misery. "I hurt you," he finished feebly.

Snape pulled the shirt away and Vanished it.

"The Dark Lord hurt me, and no!" he said sharply as Lupin opened his mouth to speak, "you were in no fit state to understand what had happened and, no, I do not blame you." He exhaled as he looked at Lupin's wretched expression. "You were my first priority. Finding you safe. The rest could wait."

He kissed Lupin's forehead and helped him to a stool and ran him a bath, helping him in carefully and, kneeling at the side of the bath, washing him gently. Lupin never took his eyes from Snape.

"Will you let me apply the Healing Balm, Severus?" Lupin said softly.

"Of course," Snape said, his voice suddenly rough.

Snape washed Lupin's tear-stained face, remembering how he never wanted to see Lupin's face stained with the traces of tears. He found his own throat obstructed to see his own loved one grieve so.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Lupin whispered, his voice still hoarse, "for the terrible things I said to you."

"It's no matter," said Snape, taken aback by the sudden sting of tears of his own. He concentrated on washing Lupin's neck and shoulders as if it were a complex task. Lupin grasped Snape's wrists and Snape looked into Lupin's shining, troubled eyes.

"I had no right to say them. No right to push at you like that. Please, Severus. Forgive me. Promise me you will not leave me."

Snape couldn't bear the hurt and fear he saw in those eyes, and heard in the tremor of that voice. If his husband had been anyone but Lupin, he might be able to tell him of his own loss of his most special and beloved friend and then his husband would know that Snape understood him perfectly. But he could not. Snape could never tell Lupin about Lily, because to tell him that would invite questions; questions meant explanations; explanations would cost him this love. Lupin would never forgive Snape for being the catalyst for it all – all of Lupin's grief. How could he? Lupin would cast Snape away from him. And Snape was sure that he couldn't live if he did.

Snape struggled against his own tears at the fear these thoughts provoked. Better to suffer those slights, spoken at the height of grief, than lose this love that Snape found so deep and redemptive. What were a few misguided insults to a man such as he, whose own father had loathed the very sight of him? How could Lupin even think Snape would leave him because of it? He swallowed hard. It hurt his throat.

"My own dear Remus," Snape said, trying to keep his voice strong – to sound strong for Lupin's sake. "There is nothing to forgive. And I will never leave you. I would die rather than leave you!"

Lupin pulled him into his arms and feathered kisses on his face and Snape could not stop his heart soaring or his stomach churning that he loved this man so, but could not just pluck the pain from him.

"Let's finish washing you, then I'll get you something to eat," he said, feeling it was the nadir of banality, but all there was to be said.

oooOOOooo

Snape had called the three boys to his office and told them to pull up chairs. This was enough to alert them that something was very wrong and they stole panicked glances at each other. The children of Death Eaters, Snape thought with sour amusement. Each pampered materially; loved without reservation or discipline; washed and mired in bigotry; craven and cowardly.

Their fathers' incarceration, dressed up by Snape as a devoted offering to the Dark Lord for which they should be justly proud, should be a harsh lesson for which their fathers' privileged and entitled tutelage had never prepared their pampered offspring, and one, Snape had no doubt, that would be rejected as not worth learning.

oooOOOooo

Snape folded over his copy of The Sunday Prophet viciously and continued reading to Lupin, "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. The Dementors are currently taking direction from Lord – Thingy." Have you ever heard such nonsense, Remus? 'Shown themselves averse'! The language is ludicrous. 'Lord – Thingy'! Is he five? Fudge is a bloody moron," Snape sneered. He turned to look at Lupin, but he had curled himself under the covers again. Snape sighed. It had only been two days, he supposed, and Lupin, although he was becoming more talkative with each day, Snape was sure he was reliving it all – not just Black, but Potter and Lily too – probably even Pettigrew's betrayal. He would become very withdrawn for hours on end.

Well, Snape would make sure Lupin got the time he needed. He would not let Dumbledore throw Lupin out before he had mastered his grief – throw him to the wolves, Snape thought sourly. Various members of the Order had asked after Lupin: Kingsley, David, Tonks, Moody, Diggle, but, in fairness, Dumbledore had deflected them and told them Lupin was resting at a safe house.

He kissed Lupin lightly on the forehead and left for his rounds. On a sunny day like today, there was bound to be trouble somewhere – if he looked.

He didn't need to look far. As he rounded the staircase up from his quarters into the Entrance Hall, he came across Potter with his wand levelled at Malfoy, who clearly had been too slow to draw, even though he was flanked by those two lummoxes, Goyle and Crabbe.

'Potter!' Snape shouted, before the boy did anything even more idiotic than he had already. Even this far from the child, he saw the hatred of himself in the child's eyes.

'What are you doing, Potter?' said Snape, as he strode over to the four of them.

'I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,' said Potter fiercely.

Snape stared at him in disbelief.

'Put that wand away at once,' he said curtly. Why had Potter no self control at all – had he really learnt nothing? 'Ten points from Gryff-'

Snape looked towards the giant hour-glasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.

'Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hour-glass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to -'

'Add some more?'

Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle; she was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well, Snape was pleased to see.

'Professor McGonagall!' said Snape, striding forwards. 'Out of St. Mungo's, I see!'

'Yes, Professor Snape,' said Professor McGonagall in her usual deadpan fashion, shrugging off her travelling cloak, 'I'm quite as good as new. You two – Crabbe – Goyle - '

She beckoned them forwards imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.

'Here,' said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's, 'take these up to my office for me.'

They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.

'Right then,' said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hour-glasses on the wall. 'Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What do you say, Professor Snape?'

'What?' snapped Snape, knowing what the dratted woman proposed to do: what Gryffindor professors always did. Still, he had to admit – but to himself only – Umbridge's point-taking had been beyond even his standards of unreasonableness. 'Oh – well – I suppose ...'

'So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom and Miss Granger' said Professor McGonagall, and a hower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor's hour-glass as she spoke. 'Oh – and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose,' she added, and a number of sapphires fell into Ravenclaw's glass. 'Now, you wanted to ten from Mr Potter, I think, Professor Snape – so there we are ...'

A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable below nevertheless.

'Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this,' Professor McGonagall continued briskly.

Potter clearly did not need telling twice; he thrust his wand back inside his robes and headed straight for the front doors and Malfoy stalked away in the opposite direction, glowering at both Snape and Minerva.

Snape watched Potter heading towards Hagrid's cabin as children waved at him, knowing that the self-same children had previously believed that he was as deranged as The Daily Prophet had made out. The boy ignored them. Snape frowned. For the second time since Snape had known Harry Potter, he looked at that retreating figure, and saw how very small he was. It made him uncomfortable.

"You need eye contact to hex him, Severus."

Snape snapped out of his odd thought and looked to Minerva's sly smile.

"Come, Minerva," he said, to cover his discomfort, "let's get you settled back in."

"I want a full account, Severus, not the babbling rubbish I read in today's Prophet!" Minerva chided. Why did women have to know everything?

Snape scowled, and Minerva raised her eyebrow at him, Snape rolled his eyes but gave her a small smile. He'd put a fair few Galleons on it that Dolores Umbridge would not survive four Stunners to the chest. The trouble was: he doubted anyone would be foolish enough to take the bet – even though he'd be happy to volunteer to be the caster.

"Come, Severus. Let's follow your two students before they get lost without Mr Malfoy to shepherd them."

oooOOOooo

Slowly, very slowly, Lupin seemed to surface from his own mire of despair. He slept a great deal, as if finding refuge in oblivion. Snape hadn't pushed him – they talked when Lupin wanted to talk, he held Lupin when he wanted to be held, often during the night when an indefinable something would wake Snape and he would find Lupin awake with silent tears tracing down his face as he stared at the ceiling. Lupin hadn't attended the first meeting of the Order a few days after the battle that was held in the Hog's Head. He just hadn't felt able. Snape understood. Lupin's world had been turned upside down again. He needed to adjust once more.

Whilst Snape taught, Lupin stayed in his quarters reading or just thinking, having his meals with Snape whenever Snape could manage to get out of eating in the Great Hall, sitting with Snape whilst he brewed. Slowly, but surely, he was returning to Snape, although still subdued and contemplative. No broad smiles, but at least now the odd occasional small smile would lift Lupin's sad expression.

But today was a turning point. Today was the first day that Lupin reached out beyond himself and Snape. Lupin had been up for the whole day. He had written letters to well-wishers from the Order and spent a long time composing a letter of sympathy to Emmeline arranging to meet with her at the weekend after the end of term, just for some mutual support. He had a conference with Dumbledore about the next werewolf pack target in Somerset and asked to be able to meet Potter with some of the members of the Order at King's Cross to speak to his Potter's family. Lupin had been sure Potter would be hard hit by Black's death and wanted to offer some reassurance, even though he felt there was little he could do or that Dumbledore encouraged him to do. Lupin was engaged at last.

And now, tonight was the first night that Lupin had pulled Snape gently to him and kissed him on the mouth, his hands pressing Snape gently to himself, his intention and want clear, but the question was in his eyes, the fear of rejection apparent.

To Snape, even though it had only been a week since they had last made love at Grimmauld Place, the night before the battle, it may as well have been months for the trepidation he felt, and could sense that Lupin felt also. Lupin had been very tentative with Snape physically since the night of the battle, as if his drunken advance, so full of self-loathing, had permanently damaged them. Of course, it hadn't and, although Snape wanted to reassure Lupin that he loved him as much as he ever had, he very much didn't want that advance repeated. It wasn't who Lupin was.

But this passion and gentleness – this was who Lupin was, and Snape welcomed him like his lost love, melting into the kiss and the embrace, hearing a small noise of pleasure at the back of Lupin's throat as Snape reciprocated, the kiss and embrace making his head swim as his skin ignited under Lupin's fingers and they pressed against each other as soon as they knew their touches were wanted, mouthing and kissing each other's neck to gentle moans as their hands explored the back of the other man until they both writhed against each other, hot with excitement and longing.

Snape worked his fingers into Lupin's opening, his stomach flipping to hear Lupin gasp and breathily say, "Please." They returned to kissing although it had become urgent and noisy as Lupin wrapped his fingers around Snape's cock and paced it, squeezing as his did so, his breathing rapid as Snape's questing fingers found his prostate. Lupin cried out and Snape groaned at the sound that drove into his own groin intensifying the feel of Lupin's hand. Snape's other hand moved Lupin's away and pressed Lupin down to the bed as his fingers rhythmically worked inside Lupin, delighting Snape to see him writhe, then cry out and arch when Snape thrilled him.

Kneeling now between Lupin's legs, Snape parted Lupin's legs wide, taking in the way Lupin looked at him with so much need that the very smokiness of it made his groin clench with heat. "My darling Severus," Lupin murmured and wrapped his legs high around Snape's waist as Snape pulled him towards himself and guided his own cock, and feeling the moist readiness of Lupin, thrust his cock into him full length. Lupin arched and cried out "Yes!" and Snape stopped, gasping for breath to hold himself in that glorious moment, fully sheathed, waiting for Lupin's blue eyes to meet his once more before he began to roll into Lupin deeply, his own want burning inside, his cock searing with every thrust, his orgasm building irresistibly with each movement and noise that Lupin made as Lupin grasped at Snape's back with his hands.

Both men were breathing sharply now, and Lupin made deep, delicious noises at the base of his throat until Snape angled sharply and made Lupin cry out. He could barely keep his mind with those noises and sensations. Snape manoeuvred them both so that he was sitting and Lupin was straddling him, impaled upon him as Snape clasped him to himself, mouthing and biting on his chest, both so very near as he just managed to speak Lupin's name as Lupin ground onto him, the hot friction almost undoing his mind completely as Lupin murmured, "I love you. I love you." Snape could do no more than thrust in time with Lupin, until he felt the scaling heat and pulse of his orgasm mounting and clutched Lupin's shoulders hard as he cried out his name as his vision blackened, and his orgasm flared brightly and began to fall.

And as Lupin cried out Snape's name as he came, his neck stretched back in the way that haunted Snape's dreams with its sensuousness, as Snape's own deep groan of intense release died away and he held Lupin close, he blessed all that was magical that he had waited – waited so their union would not be bruising, but beautiful and life-affirming.

Next chapter: are there really Giants in Somerset?

* currently being covered in the companion story "Old Friend".
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You Will Not Kiss Me