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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
- 87
- 88
- 89
Chapter 88: Battle's Eve

It had all gone wrong, and Snape heart beat so violently, he felt sick and faint even as his very being screamed at him to fight for his life.

Where is Remus? What has happened?

The wild thoughts that Lupin hadn't made it to Idris and imagining what horrors might have befallen him were his terror far more than the palpable rage of the Alpha who now harshly bound Snape's wrists behind him and then pulled him roughly to his feet, his cruel fingers digging in Snape's upper arm with a pincer-like grip. The constriction of pain in his midriff from the kick and the bruising to his throat all just added to his terror, making his breathing almost impossible. He saw Idris's sons covering him with their wands from the corner of his eye.

Snape tried to take in what was going on around him, as he saw some of Idris's werewolves fighting with Greyback's. Greyback himself fought in a frenzy, sharp teeth bared as he slashed and shouted his curses. He knew his life depended on not failing the Dark Lord this time. Greyback had never understood that raw aggression counted for nothing in duelling, but Greyback's inadequacies gave Snape no solace. He had to master himself to get out this and find Lupin.

Then Idris stood straight and imposing, still gripping his prize.

"STAND DOWN!" Idris bellowed over the duelling. "STAND DOWN AND HEAR ME!"

"STOP!" barked Greyback, his hand raised in command, as he watched Idris through narrowed eyes. "STOP, I SAID, YOU SCUM!"

Slowly, the duelling werewolves ceased throwing curses and, wands still trained on their opponents, they moved away, each drawing their own battle lines.

"Now who has the hostage, Greyback?" bellowed Idris, his wand at Snape's throat. "What will yer precious Dark Lord think of this?"

Snape heard Greyback snarl and watched as Idris curled his lip in both triumph and disgust.

"Ye want him, Greyback? Yer pack against mine. Here. Tomorrow at noon."

With that ultimatum, Idris yanked Snape away and into the mass of his pack. Snape estimated thirty-odd werewolves with Idris, approximately matching Greyback's. Was that luck or judgement? They stood their ground until Greyback's werewolves moved away.

And still that same question raced through Snape's mind leading on to so many others, all of which as distressing as the last: what had gone wrong? Where was Lupin? Had he not made it to the camp? Had the London werewolves hurt him? Had the Death Eaters found him? Dear Merlin, was he hurt? The more he thought, the more distressed he became, as this large man hitched him along uncomfortably by his arm, scowling at him that he would pay dearly for his trespass. Snape barely heard it just trying to think through his fug of terror.

"The Dark Lord's torturer, is it?" the Alpha sneered at Snape, an ugly look marring his already deeply scarred face. "We'll see about that."

Suddenly, he pulled Snape into his arms in a painful bear-hug, and Snape was assailed by the man's strong smell, like a wild animal, and they Disapparated.

As they came out of the Apparition, Idris, still holding Snape's upper arms, pushed Snape away from his body as if his proximity burnt him. Snape felt the agony of his shoulder dislocating and bit back a scream. Idris grabbed the other arm and yanked him along, muttering vengeful promises under his breath at Snape, every step making his dislocated shoulder jar in agony.

Snape saw the werewolves of Idris's pack amassed by the ward perimeter, each at every one of them watching him with loathing, and he saw Geraint holding Scabior in an uncomfortable arm-lock, even as his twin held a wand to Scabior's throat. What they were muttering to him, Snape could not make out, but he saw the wizard's abject terror as he passed.

"Yer'll be a different wizard when ye return to yer precious Dark Lord ... if we return ye at all," rumbled Idris as they passed Scabior. Snape's panic wasn't even for himself. He was now so sure – so very sure – that Lupin was lost somehow. Lupin would never fail him – never leave him to the wolves like this. His stomach churned painfully in terror, but not for himself. He needed a minute, just a minute to try to find him – call in the mirror or call for Tippy – he desperately needed to know Lupin was safe.

All the while he was thinking, Idris marched him through the wards and through the camp, past jeering werewolves, young and old, one even pelted him with vegetable peelings. He didn't care. Everything: the pain in his shoulder – everything – his vows, the geas, everything had been wiped out by the blind terror that Lupin lay injured somewhere without help. Or worse. Snape suddenly found himself blinded by acid tears of terrified helplessness.

"Cryin', is it?" Idris snarled, cruelly. "Mightta known!"

Then Snape was pushed into another tent and flung on the floor at the feet of Alphard Black.

"Think your Dark Lord will save thee now, Snape?" growled Idris. "D'ye think I'm not ready to dirty my hands with 'ee? Lay hands on my mate an' yer'll pay the price."

Idris picked Snape up by his robe front and grasped his face painfully, his face a rictus of rage.

Then Snape heard him. Lupin's voice. His heart seized painfully.

"My prize, remember. We agreed. Snape owes me a debt. He pays my price first. You can have what's left."

Idris squeezed Snape's face hard again, still emanating fury, but he nodded and violently cast Snape on the floor once more.

Snape's mind was reeling in confusion: Lupin voice, but so hard, so full of hatred. From the corner of his eye, as he panted on the floor, he saw Idris cast a heavy silencing and sealing charm on the tent.

And then there was Lupin, kneeling next to him, his voice now warm and comforting him, his arms wrapping around him.

"Oh, my Severus. Thank Merlin you're here."

"Dear God, Remus! I thought you were dead!" Snape said hoarsely, his heart leaping as he fumbled his uninjured hand over Lupin's face, and then he swore as Lupin touched his shoulder.

"I pulled it out," said Idris, giving the group a sheepish smile. "Didn't expect 'im to be so distracted."

"What?" Lupin barked, and his wand was in his hand casting over Snape.

"Let me," said Alphard. "A healing spell for a healing spell, I think," he smiled warmly as he knelt next to the pair.

Now Idris barked the same question. Snape steadied himself as he looked at those around him, now looking on him with no malice at all.

All an act? He had not even suspected.

"I think," Alphard interceded, "we can say that everyone played their part well. I believe I felt a healing spell, is that right – erm – Seth? Severus?"

"We should stick to Seth, I think," said Lupin, his eyes never leaving Snape's face. "Severus is such an unusual name, if something slipped, his secret would be out."

"Seth it is, then." Alphard smiled again as he cast at Snape's shoulder. "I'm right that I felt a healing spell?"

"The runt, Jake, he kicked you when you were Stunned. I healed you."

"Well, I thank you." Alphard cast, and Snape felt the knitting warmth of the healing charm as Alphard deftly manoeuvred the dislocation back into place as smoothly as Poppy had ever done and so Snape's body eased from its tension of pain.

"Anything else needing attention?" Alphard passed Snape a pain reliever in a small phial, which Snape downed in greedy gulps, his hands still trembling.

"There'll be bruising, but it's best to leave it – 'my marks and scars I carry with me', shall we say," said Snape a little wildly, disconcerted to have been played as well as he normally played others, as Lupin helped him shakily to his feet. Now, he was seeing Lupin for himself, he felt the wash of adrenaline fading, leaving him unnerved and shaky.

"Ah. 'to be a witness for me that I have fought'," Alphard continued the quotation. "Pilgrim's Progress! Very good, I understand."

Snape nodded again, appreciative of Alphard's grasp of Muggle literature. He had thought all Blacks were ignorant it. He suspected this man would surprise him. But that was for later. For now, all he wanted was to look at Lupin; to drink him in. As Snape stood, Lupin dropped his arms around his waist, leaning his head against Snape's.

"Thank heaven you're safe," Snape said, his voice uneven. "I thought … I feared ..."

"Shhh," Lupin said softly, planting a gentle kiss on Snape's nose. "I'm sorry. I couldn't let you allow Alf to escape and then go back to torture. I changed the plan. I'm sorry."

"Couldn't Idris have just let me know? Whispered a word?" murmured Snape, a flicker of anger now kindling.

"Surrounded by werewolves, Severus?" Lupin said sadly. "I'm so sorry, no. Your fear had to be genuine so they could smell it."

Of course, Snape understood now. It had only been a few hours, but it had felt like an eternity of torture. His anger died instantly as he nuzzled into Lupin's neck, reassured and comforted, the presence of the other three forgotten in his overwhelming relief.

"We'll still carry out your plan for Greyback to be thrashed, but you will engineer your own escape and that wizard. Who is he?" continued Lupin.

"His name's Scabior. He's no better than a jackal," replied Snape, listening, but more to the tone and cadence of Lupin's voice, savouring the feel of his arms around his waist and his breath on his face. "Remus, I was so scared. I thought those werewolves in London …"

"They nearly did," Lupin said, but held Snape closer when he started. "A couple of them saw the mirror. They wanted it. Bit of a tussle about it, but I got away and Angharad patched me up."

Snape drew away and stared at Lupin in horror, knowing he was underplaying whatever had happened in London, even though Lupin's mouth twitched upwards at the corners.

"My love, I'm fine. Don't look that way. We're here now." He kissed Snape's forehead and then pulled him into a full embrace. Snape felt the last of his terror drain from him as his whole body softened into the embrace, feeling as if he moulded himself to Lupin's body, drinking in his scent and basking in his warmth and the soft touches of Lupin's fingertips to his face. For this short time, nothing else mattered.

Eventually, it was Idris who broke the moment.

"You two. C'mon. We need ta plan."

Angharad went to fetch Idris's Betas and his sons. During that short absence, Snape saw Idris draw Alphard into his burly embrace and murmur words to him that Snape couldn't make out, but saw Alphard's smile welcome them and return the embrace. Within minutes, the others arrived and Idris told them that Snape was, in fact, Seth Moore and held them to silence on it. As soon as each man gave his pledge, Idris returned Snape's wand in full view of the small assembled group. Then, using a large piece of parchment laid out on Alphard's brewing table, Idris plotted out the surrounding area and Snape contributed the current positions of Greyback's pack.

Snape had never seen a werewolf pack fight before. He reasoned that they must be rare as feral werewolf packs rarely encroached on each other's territory. Idris and his lieutenants discussed various vantage and ambush points and tactics. Watch around the camp was doubled, and those werewolves capable of Disillusionment Charms were sent out in a group to scout the others' current whereabouts and take out as many look-outs silently before dawn as possible. If the opposition could be frightened by unexpected losses; all the better. This was no time for playing fair. Snape appreciated that sentiment – all too well.

Lupin told the group everything he knew of Greyback's tactics, and both he and Snape told them about their last fight with Greyback and his smaller pack, back when they had been with the Whitby Werewolves. Snape told them of Aidan, probably Greyback's best fighter, vicious and unscrupulous, who had killed Acastus when aiming the Killing Curse at Wallop, just as Greyback had killed Thad as carelessly as one would swat a fly. They also could identify Nero and Jared. It was resolved that these were clearly trusted lieutenants and should be disabled as quickly as possible.

They planned for hours, each lieutenant being assigned certain manoeuvres, to envelop Greyback's pack in a pincer movement leaving them only retreat. Snape expected Greyback to call on the Dementors to begin with to weaken Idris's pack. These had to be dispelled at the outset as that too would fatally weaken Greyback's pack's collective resolve. Finally, their planning meeting broke up, the lieutenants leaving to hold meetings with their own cohorts. Angharad left to fetch food and drinks, and was careful to re-set all the security charms on her return, when the five sat at Alphard's table with the stew and bread and golden mead.

"I can only stop a spell with 'ee," said Idris. "My place is with the pack on the eve o' battle." Snape and Lupin nodded, as both ate quickly, Snape having had nothing since the night before and he was sure Lupin was the same. Idris finished quickest of all and excused himself to join the pack around the winter fire on battle's eve.

Snape couldn't help but notice the way Lupin kept looking at Alphard as they ate. He wondered how much of a shock seeing the man who looked so like his friend had been. As if reading his mind, Lupin asked the question.

"Alf? May I ask? I thought ... well, Sirius told me you had died – years ago," said Lupin, as he wiped the last of his stew up with a piece of bread. If Alphard minded, he didn't show it but instead he smiled ruefully.

"I renounced my name - it's an old pure-blood ritual," he went on to explain at Lupin's perplexed expression, "relinquishing all ties with my family. I did it after Sirius and Bellatrix were imprisoned. I had had enough of my family's Dark ways, and what Sirius had done ... what we all thought he had done ... was the final straw. As far as the family and the law were concerned, at that point I no longer existed as a Black. I left the country for good after that." He smiled wanly again. Just like Black, and yet not. There was a sadness to Alphard Black's smile, in his eyes, Snape thought.

Lupin turned to Snape. "Sirius used to talk of his Uncle Alphard all the time when we were young," explained Lupin and then looked again at Alphard. "I think you were the only one he ever spoke of without being angry," he said to the other man. "Well, you and Andromeda. He always liked Andromeda, too."

Snape listened to the tone of Lupin's voice, and heard the sorrow he tried to mask. The other man smiled, just as sorrowfully in Snape's opinion, and they began to swap stories of Black's rebellion against his family, with Alphard telling them stories of Sirius Black's juvenile insurrections. In seemingly no time at all, they were laughing together, although Snape could not possibly feel part of it – how could he? The accommodation he and Black had learnt to have with one another had been so very new when Bellatrix had sent him through the Veil. And Snape remembered all too well that Black's rebellion had included hexing as many Slytherins as he could, on principle – usually Snape himself. The odd thing was that all these years on, he thought he understood more of Black's pathology; his desperate need to be different from his kind. Not that he would ever forgive him, he supposed, but the analytical part of his mind was interested that not all pure-blood, entitled brats had been spoilt with love, the way Snape had always assumed. Except Potter of course, Snape thought sourly.

"It's good to see him talk of his nephew," Angharad whispered to Snape. "It hurt him so when he died."

"He knew he was innocent then?" asked Snape, recalling what he had said about renouncing his family.

"Aye, he found out when the Whitbys joined us, from a boy called David. It was confirmed by that Headmaster. That's how he found out where Idris was too. "

Dumbledore. Of course, it was. Who else? Snape thought, feeling a slight lurch of guilt at the mention of David, and then further thoughts struck him.

"That expensive advocate who cleared his nephew's name: did Alphard retain him?"

"Aye. The boy was still alive then and Alf wanted to clear his name." Angharad smiled. Snape found it very difficult not to respond to her smile. It was so warm and merry. She had an openness that reminded him sometimes of Lily – a desire to engage him – him: Severus Snape. Not many people harboured that desire, he knew. He smiled back, and warmed to his theme. It all now made so much sense. All these threads that seemed so odd before he knew of Alphard's existence.

"May I ask you a personal question, Angharad?" he asked softly, quickly checking Lupin and Alphard were still talking, although they would not have heard anyway as Alphard was regaling Lupin with the tale of Black turning the Black family motto on their crest on the china at a dinner party for like-minded Ministry officials to Toujours Puke, and Lupin had tears rolling down his face in merriment. Snape adored the sight of Lupin laughing: it warmed him through. He wondered briefly what the terrible Walburga Black had done about that. Had she been like her portrait in reality, Snape suspected he did not really want to know.

"Aye, Seth," Angharad said, smiling too at the men laughing freely. Snape turned his attention back to her.

"When Alphard – Alf ... When Idris ..." stuttered Snape, then bit out the question he wanted. "How did you accept Idris taking another mate?"

Still smiling, but now a knowing smile, Angharad picked up his hand in hers.

"I was Idris's only mate these fourteen years. An Alpha can take another mate or more if'n he wants – it's our way. Idris never has. I thought all these years, he might put me out for someone younger. But he never did. Then one day, he walked through the camp with Alf – that Headmaster had arranged for them to meet." She squeezed Snape's hand. "As soon as I saw them together, I knew this man was special to Idris. Knew it. Smelt it. Felt it. Idris didn't do anything about him though, just introduced us and let us get to know each other." Her eyes left Snape and travelled to Alphard and Snape saw her smile soften. "It was months before Idris asked me for permission," she continued. "He didn't need to ask me. Not at all, but he did. He respected me. We arranged it, but then Alf's nephew was killed. Oh, Seth." She patted his hand. "It broke his heart, and it broke mine. He's my brother now. We look after our mate together."

Snape listened in wonder, no lurid or perverted thoughts assailed him about these three people. He knew in his heart that they loved each other as a family, not some seedy sexual arrangement, but a genuine relationship. He had seen how Idris looked at them both, and they looked at him. He was sure it should repulse him, but it didn't – not these people, anyway.

He couldn't share Lupin though. He would never share him, but he had an idea that this is where Dumbledore had come up with his plan. Even though it was now ruined and that was still something to work through, he couldn't help but wonder.

"Has the Headmaster been to see you?" he asked tentatively.

"Not me, but he saw Idris and Alf last summer. Needed to speak to Idris about wands and warn him that he-we-don't-name is interested in him." Of course he did, Snape thought. If anyone could second guess the Dark Lord, it's Dumbledore. "He told them of your troubles, Seth."

Snape gawped. "My ... my troubles. What do you mean?"

Angharad rubbed his hand gently. "What ye do against he-we-don't-name, spyin' an' such, and that it keeps you from Remus Lupin at the full moon. Idris told him that a wolf must be with his mate at the moon – it's the way our curse works, see? To keep its potency." What his face was showing, he didn't know, but Angharad tucked his hair behind his ear gently to see him better. "Are ye three now, Seth?"

What to say to this woman who was so accepting? And then another realisation dawned on him to his horror: just who Tonks was to the man now talking to Lupin. He palmed his face with his free hand, not knowing what to say.

"No, not three. A friend of Remus's lets him mark her for the moon to keep us safe. They have not ... not mated." He looked at Angharad's open face. When would he ever have the chance to try to understand this from someone who truly knew? "It kills me not to be with him," he said quietly. "I don't think I can do what you can. It's too difficult for me – I ... I just cannot ..." he finished feebly.

"You cannot doubt Remus Lupin loves thee, surely, Seth? Is that it?" whispered Angharad earnestly.

It was too difficult to discuss – to articulate. He had never discussed how he felt about Lupin with anyone else. It was so precious to him, if he spoke it out loud, he was sure the magic would disappear. He couldn't risk it.

He shook his head, made mute by his own inadequacy. If Lupin had brought Tonks to them and waited for him to accept her as Idris had – well, he just couldn't. He wasn't a werewolf, accepting of the hierarchy of his Alpha. He knew Lupin mastered him in many ways – his temper, his passion, his terrible jealousy – and he adored that mastery, but only for him – for him alone, never to be shared.

Angharad sighed. "I understand, Seth. I do. It could so easily have been different for us." She inclined her head towards Alphard. "Imagine had I not taken to him, or thought Idris would put me out. Then it would have broken my heart." Holding his hand still, she squeezed it again.

At that moment, they heard singing. Just Conway at first, then joined by the other Whitby Werewolves. Rousing songs. Snape thought he recognised them as more and more werewolves joined in, and Angharad laughed.

"We should join them now, Alf," she said, as she squeezed Snape's shoulder, "and leave these two alone."

"I'll be in at dawn," warned Alphard. "Rounds for the patients and to ready for battle." He nodded at an alcove full of potions that Snape had not noticed before. And with that, both were gone and the charms re-set.

Lupin snaked his arm around Snape and they leant against each other, listening in silence to the rowdy, roaring singing outside for a while, Snape wondering if Lupin was contemplating the battle tomorrow.

"Hymns!" said Snape suddenly. "They're singing Muggle hymns."

"I think I heard a sea shanty earlier as well," Lupin laughed and gently pushed Snape up to look at him. "Tell me, Severus. Just what do you suppose Greyback makes of this singing?"

Snape smiled slowly, imagining the small pack by the forest listening to the lusty singing travelling across the night air, defiant, triumphant, masculine sounds! Lupin nodded.

"I don't imagine they'll be having a campfire sing-song!" smirked Snape. "I should dearly like to see their faces."

With that, they fell to talking as Lupin told Snape what he had seen in the camp as he waited. How they had hatched the new plan, and that when Scabior had come to the camp with Uriah, it was like a gift. Idris had snatched him into the camp and arranged it with his sons so that he should witness Snape's capture and his treatment. He was now bundled up under guard, believing Snape was being tortured by his one true nemesis: Remus Lupin.

Snape couldn't deny they'd executed their plot well. He himself had been terrified. He could only imagine what Scabior thought was going on in this tent after he'd seen Idris dislocate his arm and then throw Snape around like a doll. A part of him hoped he would never see that side of Idris in reality.

Lupin then told him how the Whitby Werewolves had now become part of Idris's pack, rather than a satellite pack. It reminded Snape of Pisser yesterday, and his new name. Did Lupin know?

"Yes, Idris demanded he be known by his given name, not by the name given to him by bullies." Lupin shrugged. "That name is Botolph. And Alphard did the same for Stacy."

"Wallop?" Snape remembered the large, hulking man.

"Yes. He's developed quite an attachment to Angharad, apparently," Lupin said, smiling hugely. "Anyway, Alphard told him his name is a short form of Eustace, and that it's a good name and now," Lupin shrugged again, "that's all he'll be known by. It seems they've found a home here after all, Severus. I wouldn't have dreamt it of such townies. Idris says that Stacy has a special talent that will be useful for battle and against the Dementors because he can't cast a Patronus, but he's keeping it quiet for now."

"Another talent apart from a fist like iron?" asked Snape, remembering how Stacy had felled a man with one almighty blow back in Whitby and wondering what else the seemingly damaged man might have. There were other ways to shield oneself from Dementors, but he would be surprised if Stacy were capable of them.

"Apparently so. He says it's quite shocking, but I can't believe that. Stacy may be lumbering, but his nature was always gentle when he was with the band."

Outside, the lusty singing that had reverberated in the crystal-cold January air had now died away, and they heard Idris giving the orders to pack up for the night. Snape felt a thrill of excitement run through him. He hadn't realised how much he had been waiting for this time – for what he really wanted.

He leant towards Lupin, catching his lips to kiss him. This kiss ignited him immediately, all the longing and reassurance he put away from himself through the long day suddenly crashed in on him. He wanted to be with Lupin – dear heaven, he needed him, to be filled and pushed to his limits by him, released by him – release all the tension of these past days in a frenzy of love-making. The more he thought of it as their tongues swirled around each others, the more his groin burned as their kissing became more passionate. Of course, Lupin knew. That damn sense of smell of his would tell him how Snape was feeling. Lupin's arms tightened around him and Snape knew his desire was understood and reciprocated.

They heard Idris calling for lights out and knew they would finally be undisturbed. Snape got up and checked Idris's wards still held on the tent and then strode over to Lupin, held out his hands and then led him to the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Lupin stood before him, his hands in Snape's hair, the only sounds now were their breathing becoming heavier and the rustling of the material of Lupin's clothes as Snape undressed him completely, aching for the sight of his beloved's body and the feel of it: the more that was revealed, the greater his desire to see and to feel it.

His stomach clenched hard as soon as Lupin was naked before him, and he pressed his hands and lips to Lupin's chest and stomach, listening for the hitches in Lupin's breath as Snape caressed Lupin's body, dropping onto his knees to do so.

The desire that overcame him as he pressed hard kisses to Lupin's hips was so overwhelming that he could not seem to touch or hold Lupin enough, knowing that in the large roundhouse next to them, the werewolf couples would be coupling too. Snape had no idea if he was imagining it, but his sudden lust was heady, hefty and insistent, just as it had been when they had joined the werewolf rut.

As Lupin encouraged him with caresses to his hair and throaty noises, Snape almost whimpered as his mouth and tongue found the tip of Lupin's cock and teased it with his teeth and tongue to a deep moan from Lupin that drove on Snape's desire as he swirled his tongue down and up Lupin's erection, feeling the clenching of Lupin's body in his grasping hands and his name streaming from Lupin's lips as he took Lupin in his mouth inch by delicious inch.

Then Lupin pushed Snape back and onto the bed gently, leaning over him remove his robe and then to unwind his cravat and then to draw off his shirt, but then drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh Severus," whispered Lupin, taking in the dark, lowering bruises on Snape's shoulder, his upper arms, throat and midriff. "Please let me heal them."

"They're my proof, Remus," Snape said gently, reaching out to bring Lupin closer to him to kiss him hard, even though his face also carried painful fingertip bruises from Idris's grasp. He wanted Lupin, and he didn't care about anything else. "Leave them."

"Let me get the bruise balm. I can do a Glamour of bruises when you leave to replicate them ..." Lupin said, pulling away to get up, but Snape grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

"When I present myself to the Dark Lord, my injuries must be real, Remus."

"But we've done this before ..." said Lupin, a pleading edge to his voice.

"With memories, Remus, memories. The Dark Lord will see through a Glamour in front of him immediately. They must be real."

"I wanted to save you from injury," said Lupin sadly, his eyes now shining. "I failed."

"These are just bruises, Remus. It is nothing like what the Dark Lord would have done to me. You know this," said Snape, his tone insistent. "You of all people know this." He was sure that Lupin remembered, just as Snape did at that point, how he had healed Snape that night of the Dark Lord's return: Cruciatus, Legilimency and Snape's own Cutting Curse. Yes, so much worse than bruises.

Lupin's eyes still shone and his jaw worked, and he traced a gentle finger across Snape's bruised face. The fingertip left a trail of fire on Snape's skin and he pulled Lupin back onto himself and stopped his objections with a passionate kiss. The feel of lips and tongue and skins were what he wanted now, nipping and slipping his tongue along Lupin's lips before greedily kissing him, holding his head firmly with both hands, his desire – his assent – plain. He heard the deep, throaty noise of Lupin's re-kindled excitement and released his hair so his hands could clutch Lupin's bare back, his desire now rapacious.

"Remus, please!" whispered Snape hoarsely, moving his hips against Lupin's own. "I don't want to wait anymore."

Snape knew Lupin could never resist him, not when he called his name, and his eyes fluttered back as Lupin growled deep within his throat as he began to kiss and suck at Snape's throat, as he worked off Snape's trousers and ground their hips and erections together, and making him whimper as he found the bite – the bite that made him weak with hot, hard desire, even more so here in the werewolf camp. Then Lupin's tongue and lips found the bites on his chest, making Snape cry out at the sensations he hadn't felt for such a long time from the magical wounds, as Lupin's fingers played across his nipples and down his body, trailing across and around the bite below his flat stomach making Snape arch violently and cry out as shards of magically enhanced delight pierced through him with each touch of fingers and tongue. Then, when those fingers found their way inside him, the thumb caressing the bite above, Snape thought he would split wide with ecstasy, his whole body alight, his mind gone as Lupin's name spilled from his lips, needing fulfilment.

Strong hands then held him bodily and Snape scrambled onto his hands and knees, his body trembling at a pitch of fevered excitement, wanting Lupin inside him as deeply as possible. Only that would satisfy him now. Lupin lined up behind him, adoring words, huskily spoken as he kissed up Snape's spine, and then placed Snape's hands on the bedstead as he kissed the side of Snape's face. Lupin's head nuzzled against Snape's neck and Snape felt the head of his erection at his opening, tantalising him. He groaned with the intense fire in his groin, then Lupin found the bite and bit as he thrust in and Snape cried out loudly. It felt like a red hot brand of sheer ecstasy, knifing through him and he was lost to it then – he and Lupin moving together in deep hard thrusts, as Snape grappled at the bedstead to anchor himself, to feel Lupin as deeply as he could, seeming to fill him to his core with fire that consumed him anew with each searching thrust, as they moved harshly against each other, Lupin holding him even as he pumped Snape's straining erection in time, calling the other's name over and over, their pleasures heightening and brightening, slowly and inexorably building until Snape's incandescent orgasm flared and Snape shouted out as he came fiercely, as Lupin emptied into him with a hoarse cry, and clutched Snape to himself as they both trembled under the ferocity of it, even as their ecstasy ebbed away.

Both still panting for breath, Lupin steadied Snape in his arms and lowered them both onto the bed, cradling Snape as their breathing eventually regulated, then they kissed gently, sated and fulfilled in each other, their bodies softening together.

Even away from the others, Snape knew their love-making had been intensified by being in the pack, the wanton sexual scents on the atmosphere, and even that it was also the eve of battle, with expectation and adrenaline running high.

"I want to fight by your side," said Snape, the profound ache in his body pulling like a magnet to be with his mate. "You can transfigure me, then I can."

"It's too dangerous. If the spell were to be lifted – dear Merlin, Severus - imagine what they'd do to you!" whispered Lupin in horror, his hands still pressing Snape to himself.

"I won't stand by and watch you fight!" hissed Snape, raising himself on one elbow to glare at Lupin. "No more than you would stand by."

Lupin matched his glare, his own protectiveness so beautifully evident, but frustrating just the same. Snape's black eyes burnt with passion and fervour, and he saw it reflected in his husband's eyes as Lupin breathed deeply, his nostrils delicately flaring with each breath.

"The plan was for you to fake your escape with Scabior as we fight. You know that makes sense, Severus!"

"I want to see it through! I need to know the battle's won – no nasty surprises when I report back to the Dark Lord, with all my injuries!" insisted Snape, just a firmly. "Knowing the outcome before I prostrate myself before him makes more sense, I assure you. I need to know what are the casualties, make sure no captives are taken ..." He inhaled hugely and then cupped Lupin's face with his hand. "I need to know you're safe before I leave."

Lupin's expression softened and he leant into Snape's palm and turned to kiss it. Then Lupin nodded.

"Very well. We'll find a way," conceded Lupin, pressing Snape back to bed, and running his hand along Snape's body. "But perhaps in a more Slytherin way."

Next chapter: The Battle of Cadr Idris

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You Will Not Kiss Me