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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 85: Introspection & Recollection

After their short conversation, Lupin had made love to Snape tenderly, each touch and kiss Lupin's affirmation of his love and trust. Snape had relished every one, every caress as if it were an act of worship. It was one of those times when Lupin him took him to his brink so slowly and carefully that, by the time he crested his orgasm, he could have cried with the overwhelming physical and emotional release, and at the words of love that Lupin whispered into his mouth.

And now, it was mid-morning. And Snape lay with one hand behind his head as the other played through Lupin's shaggy, yet greying, hair as Lupin slept, his head resting on Snape's midriff, his arm wrapped possessively around Snape's slender torso.

He knew the Unbreakable Vow had distressed Lupin and they had yet had the chance to discuss it – or at least, as much of it as he was able – but Snape was seeing more and more the physical toll that the life Lupin was being forced to lead was also having on him. Snape was sure there was more grey in his beloved's hair, he could see that Lupin had lost weight, that his sadness seemed to be etched into the lines of his face. What wouldn't Snape do to wipe it all from Lupin's face, eradicate his ills and give him strength?

His own experiments were sluggish. Such deep magic defied his attempts to find a cure, and he, instead, persisted with his experiments for slowing down the damage that the curse – or rather the changes that it forced on the human body – did to its victims.

Snape knew he had rare magical abilities. He had created new spells – many of them. There weren't many wizards and witches that could do that. And yet he had – often. He had made logic-defying leaps to invent and perfect potions. This absolutely should not be beyond him.

As he carded Lupin's hair, he thought on what the Lycanthropic curse meant. It was the Darkest of all magics. At some time in the long distant past, a powerful wizard or witch had cursed a man to become a wolf at the full moon – shattering his own body to become a hunter, a predator of human flesh. With every bitten human being, the curse would be perpetuated. Such a Dark and savage curse. Was the curse against that first victim personal? Or was it a curse to create a Dark creature, perhaps for an army of Dark creatures? Was it just to create a self-perpetuating curse – an experiment with no animus against that first victim? Snape knew that deep magic recognised intention. He had to discover that original caster's true intention if he was to find the counter-curse or potion for a ritual to undo it. He had to continue his researches.

As he pondered, he recalled what Lupin had said to him.

You remember Lily, don't you, Severus?

Why did Lupin not remember? Snape and Lily had been inseparable. Hadn't they?

Lying there he remembered the Sorting. He recalled that sickening lurch in his stomach when she was Sorted away from him. Not just away, but to Gryffindor, of all places! Perhaps, his traitorous mind had supplied, that was for the best – a Muggle-born in Slytherin! He had always known Muggle-borns had no place in Slytherin. His mother had that word for them. But he had hoped it would be different for Lily. He didn't know about other Muggle-borns, but Lily was an extraordinary witch. He had seen that the very first time he had set eyes on her. He had been young then; he hadn't understood the politics of it all. He had thought it had to do with the quality of magic. He had learnt otherwise quickly. There were some pure-bloods who were positively mediocre in magic.

Had Lily been sorted into Ravenclaw, it wouldn't have been so bad, but he already knew that Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was legendary. He had groaned out loud when she had been Sorted and he had watched with longing as his friend sat next to that loud-mouth brat from the train. The loud-mouth who coined that foul nickname that had dogged the rest of his life. Sirius Black. He felt some small solace that she had turned her back on him when she recognised him from the train.

He had been one of the last to be Sorted, begging the Hat to put him in Slytherin. He remembered sourly how Lucius Malfoy had patted him on the back, welcoming him. Of course, that false bonhomie had fallen away as soon as he and the other half-bloods were in the common room and out of the way of the staff. He tore his mind away from that train of thought. Whilst curled up with Lupin this way, he wanted nothing to do with those memories.

He remembered Lily had come to him the very next day and they had explored by the Lake together, as excited as 11year old children could be, Snape feeling so important telling her about the Giant Squid and watching her hands fly to her face as she giggled. He remembered that she looked like an angel, her red hair catching the sun, as the ripples on the Lake caught the sun too. It was such a vivid memory. There had been some teasing from older girls in her House, but they kept meeting. They had some lessons together too: History of Magic and Potions. She had tried to be his partner in Potions, but that lump, Mary MacDonald, insisted they work together, so Snape worked with Mulciber. Their tables were next to each other and they watched each other work surreptitiously, Lily putting into effect all the little tricks and tips Snape had taught her that he, in turn, had learnt from his mother when he had watched her brew in their cellar at Spinner's End. He was so proud when Slughorn singled her out for praise, not picking up on the slight to himself when his own Boil Cure had been perfect. He hadn't cared. Not back then anyway.

Very quickly, he learnt that his friendship with Lily was considered unhealthy and unbefitting a Slytherin. He and the other half-bloods were already becoming aware that their position in the House was parlous. It had started with unpleasant comments, but quickly escalated to being tripped, pinched, kicked and hit for fun. They ran errands for the pure-bloods, and soon were doing the homework for the other pure-blood first years, if they were too lazy to do it themselves.

Snape had told Lily some of this, but not that it was to do with blood status. He didn't think she'd understand that. She understood his need to get away, though, and not be found, and suggested they find their own hideaway. They found a disused classroom, and there they met as often as they could. They would laugh, and joke (or rather Lily would, and Snape would drink in her laughter like a healing balm as the bullying in his House began to escalate). They did their homework together, practising charms and potions. The room became Snape's port in the turbulent storm of his life at Hogwarts. They would still talk to each other occasionally out in the open, but usually they waited until they were together rather than listen to the carping of Lily's girlfriends about having a snake for a friend, or the snide comments of Snape's Housemates about 'not knowing what was good for him'.

It became very clear that the loud-mouth brat, Black, and his equally entitled friend, Potter, were after his half-blood too. After all, a shabby half-blood, clearly without friends, was a fair target, wasn't he? Snape remembered his feeling of utter helplessness, all too well. Lily never understood why it was defensive spells he began to prefer to practise (although he loved creative charms too, they wouldn't be much help to him).

When Potter and Black did catch him without his classmates, and Lily was there, she would always stick up for him. He felt so useless. He should be sticking up for her, not vice versa. He felt so humiliated. But he could never make her understand.

"But you're my friend, Sev! My best friend! Why wouldn't I stick up for you?" He remembered her tinkling voice. It made him close his eyes against the sharp remembrance of that he would never hear that voice again.

"Because I'm a boy, Lily. You must understand that!" he had cried.

"Yes, but they know I'd go to Professor McGonagall! That James Potter. He's so full of himself. I'd stick up for anyone when it comes to him, and he knows it. He's got such a big head, Sev. Honestly, I'm surprised he can hold himself upright ..."

Snape remembered how he had smiled as she had held her hands out to the sides of her head to do an expanding gesture and made a silly face.

She never understood how it hurt his pride that those boys ragged on him mercilessly for letting a girl defend him on top of everything else they hated about him on sight.

Potter accumulated another couple of hangers-on: the sickly Remus Lupin and the waste of space, Peter Pettigrew. The older Slytherins laughed at the odd assortment of blood traitors and half-bloods. They were out for Black's blood too. He was a blood traitor far worse than Potter in their eyes. All Black's family had been in Slytherin. His cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa, were in Slytherin right at their time, their shock at Black's Sorting evident. Why, it could even have threatened the blood match that had been made for Narcissa with the Malfoy family and Andromeda's with the Irish branch of the Yaxley family. And yet, the runt and his blood traitor pal insisted on finding and picking on as many Slytherins as possible as if to prove their Gryffindor credentials, and the Slytherins responded in kind. It was their duty. Snape joined in with any Slytherin revenge, exactly how they instructed him. He used his knowledge of Dark curses he had gained from his mother's old books to try to gain himself some standing in his House. He was only half successful. They thought him useful, but the bullying didn't ease.

Snape sighed at the recollections as he tried to remember how it might have looked to Lupin back then.

So it went on, and by their third year, Snape would only meet Lily in secret. It was to save them both, he had reasoned at the time. He didn't want to give up his friendship with Lily, but he didn't want to bring himself or Lily to the attention of those in his House anymore than was necessary for this friendship they so loathed. The abuse in his own House had ratcheted higher and Snape found himself a target for Lucius Malfoy more and more in this, Malfoy's final year. The little raggedy half-blood with no friends. It was so easy for Malfoy.

Snape knew that Lily was sometimes offended by their secret meetings, but he could never tell her the full reason for needing to keep their friendship a secret. She thought he was ashamed of her, but that wasn't true. It wasn't true at all. But he never knew how to tell her it was protectiveness, and selfishness, if he was honest, that drove him to secrecy.

She hated how he went around with boys with an outspoken affinity for Dark magic. He couldn't tell her why he had to acquiesce in everything his Housemates did. If he didn't, things would be worse, so much worse. And when she would get cross with him for not publically disowning those Slytherins and tell him off, he'd go to their classroom on his own and work there, perfecting his spells and potions.

Yes, Potter was often on his mind when he perfected those spells. Potter and Black who seemed to find in him sport of a different kind to Malfoy, and their hangers-on: Pettigrew who watched with the hunger of a hyena and Lupin with his frown. The frown he always wore when those two boys plagued him. How Snape had hated Lupin for that dozy look. Not taking part, but keeping to one side. He remembered at the time how he thought that made Lupin even worse.

Now, as he looked at the man sleeping across his body, he understood that boy better. Lupin and his abject terror of rejection, bred into him by well-meaning parents and conditioned self-hatred of Wizarding society. Black had told him Lupin had tried to get them to leave him alone when they were in the privacy of Gryffindor Tower. Often. He had forgiven Lupin by then – bonded with him, no less. But it had been good to hear from Black's own lips nonetheless.

By the fourth year, Malfoy had left, but the bullying did not stop. There were those who still considered themselves entitled to treat Snape and other half-bloods however they liked, but Snape was starting to come into his own now. His magic was becoming stronger and his casting skills more successful. Avery and Mulciber took him along on their own incursions into Gryffindor territory. He went along willingly – happy to have revenge for the many slights and injuries Black and Potter played on him.

He also noticed that Potter was looking at Lily in a different way. He fancied her: Snape's Lily. Snape hated it and, self-destructively, he could not help himself from running Potter down or demanding she stay clear of him. He even knew it was counter-productive. But it was like a wound he couldn't help scratching. By the fifth year, he and Lily still met in their room, but things were changing. Lily was changing, and if he were honest, so was he. They would both become quite emotional when they had disagreements and seemed to be unable to resolve them very well. Snape recognised now how they were becoming hormonal teenagers, but he didn't understand that then. All he knew was the utter devastation he felt whenever they had cross words or when she walked away from an argument about Dark magic, or whether Lupin was a werewolf, or why he couldn't tell her why Potter really wasn't a hero, or when his Housemates called her that name. The arguments and silences happened more and more and every time left him crushed and unsure how to make it right.

He just worked harder to be more powerful, to have the best magic. Eventually, she would see who he was and wipe her hands of braggarts like Potter. He had been sure of it.

And then there was that fateful day by the Lake. Once again, she stood up for him, and in his complete humiliation he lashed out at her in the way he knew would hurt her the most. There had been no making it right after that. He had tried, but she wouldn't speak to him. The mirror he had enchanted for them to chat came back to him. He remembered to this day how that had hurt.

He tried to see her over the summer holidays, but she had refused to see him. How Petunia had crowed to send him from their door. He was so shamed when he saw the sympathetic look from Mr. Evans as he too turned Snape away. It is one humiliation after another. Snape could do no more than steel himself and try not to feel it as keenly as he did.

Through their sixth and seventh years, they were no longer friends. Lily made mirrors for Black and Potter using the spell Snape had shown her. He heard them bragging of them, and it had cut him deeply. Snape mourned as if she had died but tried not to let others see that he watched her always, missing her voice, her laugh and the way she could make him forget all his troubles as they discovered magic together in that small classroom they claimed as their own.

How could Lupin have known as he watched his friend, Potter, win the girl of his dreams? When Potter started courting Lily, Snape was nowhere on the scene. Out of sight and out of mind. Why should he even think that Lupin would remember how close he had been to Lily when it was he that had hidden it? How egotistical to think anyone would notice him.

But it was better this way, wasn't it? Better than Lupin should never know. That he should never guess at that terrible thing that Snape had done all those years ago.

oooOOOooo

They had lunched together as Tippy had fussed around them with a roast beef rib and roast potatoes and cabbage, Snape's beef well done, Lupin's rare. As they ate, Lupin told him of his time at the Burrow.

First, he repeated to Snape word for word his conversation with Potter, even down to how Lupin had tried to be impartial about Snape when Potter had ranted about him. As Lupin told him, he coloured in shame, but Snape picked up his hand and kissed it in understanding. Lupin continued. Snape could confirm nothing about Malfoy, but he listened intently as Lupin relayed the conversation between Potter and Arthur too, but the detail was too sparse to understand what they could have been talking of, and Lupin confessed that he knew no more. His hope that Potter may have seen something that Snape could identify, and so foil Malfoy's plot, receded with the conversation.

Lupin told him of torture by Celestina Warbeck and of the chilly atmosphere between Molly and Fleur. It had been pronounced and embarrassing.

"I'm told that's what makes a family Christmas," Snape said acidly.

Lupin laughed and promised Snape their family Christmases would not be like that. Snape could have sworn his heart skipped a beat with the promise.

Then Lupin then told him that Potter had asked about the Levicorpus spell. Lupin told Snape he had told Potter how it had been fashionable in their OWL year but when he noticed Snape's reflex flinch, he apologised profusely.

"I'm sure that's not important," said Lupin quickly and moved quickly on to the visit of Scrimgeour with the erstwhile Percy. That had not been so amusing. Clearly, the Ministry wanted Potter for propaganda purposes, even after the shameful way it had treated him the year before. It could scarcely be believed.

Snape had tried hard to hide his relief that Tonks had not been there only to be troubled to hear that Molly appeared to have taken up the cause to match-make Lupin and Tonks. Away from the children, she had tried to persuade Lupin that he had no reason to fear rejection because of Tonks's age and that she was sure if Lupin would just trust in love, everything would work out well.

Snape's jaw dropped, his fork half-way to his mouth. "She said that?"

"Exactly that." Lupin nodded. "I can only assume this is what Dora has told has told her." Lupin shook his head. "I don't want to embarrass Dora by telling Molly that I have no interest in her that way." Lupin sighed. "Selfishly, I don't want to humiliate Dora so she refuses to stay with me at the full moon and you are endangered. Luckily, Bill was there. He was able to step in and stop the conversation. At least, that's someone who knows the truth of us, Severus. He and I had a chat in the garden after everyone had gone to bed. He said he'd try to speak to his mother to convince her not to interfere, but it's a terrible mess, Severus. What on earth do we do?"

oooOOOooo

Snape had to commute between the flat and Hogwarts. He could not afford prolonged absences or Dumbledore trying to interfere. He set up an alarm system so that if any student in his House needed his help, Tippy would inform him. He could use the external Floo to Dumbledore's office or Apparate to the edge of the enchantments, if necessary. It was a hassle, but it was worth it to be with Lupin as much as possible.

He tried to have one, possibly two meals with Lupin, and the minimum of one in the Great Hall so the pupils remaining over the holiday could see him. It wasn't unknown for him to miss meals. As long as he was seen once a day, he was satisfied. He made his House inspections as usual, hoping to find Malfoy, but he was always missing. He had stopped leaving messages with his Housemates. He didn't want Malfoy's disobedience to be widely known, or indeed emulated.

His concern about Dumbledore's interference turned out to be unfounded. Dumbledore was rarely there himself. All Minerva would tell him was that he was off on important business, but had not divulged its nature. She looked at him curiously when he turned down offers of a game of chess or a hand at cards by Charity and Septima. Even Filius seemed to want to engage him in Christmas games. He was sure they had never been this insistent on his company before. Perhaps, he had never been so keen to get away before. Only Poppy nodded at him with a small smile, knowing why he was in such a rush to get away.

The day before the full moon, however, Snape waited in Dumbledore's office with a goblet of Spiritus Vitae and Dumbledore returned, looking wan and worn out. Snape performed the casting to ensure the curse remained trapped, as Dumbledore drank down the golden potion to stopper death once more. He avoided Snape's questions with mild pleasantries and enquiries after Lupin's health.

"I dare say he would be happier and healthier if you released him from this fool's errand with the urban werewolves. You know Remus cannot fight against the lure of Greyback's promises of revenge on wizardkind and blood on demand!" spat Snape. "When are you going to accept that it's hopeless and let Remus have his life back?"

"Hopeless, Severus?" Dumbledore said softly as he sat back and regarded Snape over his glasses. "Did I give up on you when so many told me you were a hopeless cause?"

"That ..." Snape ground out through gritted teeth, "is different and you know it."

"Do I, Severus? Do I, indeed?"

oooOOOoo

Snape let himself in at Grimmauld Place as usual, and into the room where Lupin and Tonks were as soon as the transformation had finished. No wards prevented his entry and Tonks was withdrawn and meek. That in itself struck Snape as odd. He was used to her flashes of temper when she so resembled her cousin, but there was none of that. She pulled on her boots and biker's jacket, then wrapped herself in a garish travelling cloak and left with a whispered, "Happy new year, Remus." With that she shot away, clattering down the stairs.

As usual, Snape checked Lupin for injuries. This time there were some small tears and large bruises. That hadn't happened for a while. It had clearly been a poor transformation. Snape healed Lupin carefully and then dressed him gently and then, on the front doorstep of Grimmauld Place, Snape held Lupin close and they Disapparated to the farmhouse at Cadr Idris.

Snape didn't let Lupin show him the memories straightaway. He helped him to the bathroom and ran the bath for them both. Only when Lupin had slept and eaten would Snape then look, but for now, as he soaped Lupin's chest and neck as Lupin leant against him in the bath, Snape would take his time to care for Lupin.

Tonks could wait. Whatever had happened that had caused her to look so upset could wait. This was their anniversary. It was their time, not hers.

AN: Thank you for the reviews posted. They are greatly appreciated.
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You Will Not Kiss Me