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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
- 88
- 89
- 90
Chapter 89: The Battle of Cadr Idris

Snape went from deepest, contented slumber, his arms and legs tangled around Lupin's limbs, to startled wakefulness when he realised someone was moving around nearby. His eyes flew open and he groped for his wand before he realised that a partition screen had been Conjured to cover the bed from view.

Alphard. Yes, that's who it had to be. He had warned them he would be in at dawn. Snape blinked heavily a couple of times and then looked at Lupin and the steady rise and fall of his chest and deep breaths showing he still slept deeply. Snape stroked the side of Lupin's face softly with a small smile. Lupin murmured and moved into the hand, but continued to sleep as Snape heard the small clinking sounds of phials being sorted. Curiosity won Snape over and he found his trousers and shirt on the floor and quickly dressed, watching Lupin sleep as he did so and how the counterpane just draped over the crest of Lupin's pelvic bone revealing the trail of hair from his navel downwards (remarkably attractively, in Snape's opinion – damn Alphard for being there), and then Snape moved out from behind the screen.

Alphard saw him and smiled.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry. Not as quiet as I thought," Alphard said, amiably.

Snape saw Alphard had gathered a number of potions and balms and was collating his patients' notes, just as if he were engaged at St. Mungo's.

"No matter," said Snape. "You did warn us. I thought I'd see what you do."

Alphard told Snape what potions he was using and the ailments for which they would be applied. He passed a heavy crystal jar to Snape.

"I've been working on this balm to assist the transformation wounds. We don't see so many of these as most of the pack runs free at the full moon but our elderly wolves can suffer badly from this as well as age."

Snape's personal and professional interest was piqued now: a balm specifically for werewolf injury. He opened the jar, cupping his hands over it so he could smell it before looking at the texture and then taking a dab with his finger. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.

"Not only is there the Dittany base of the usual healing balms, with added Essence of Murtlap, I've been working on an incantation to help with the curse element of the wounds to try to lessen the scarring. I'm a proficient Spell-Worker, but not the best." He seemed to be eyeing Snape knowingly. "It would certainly help if I had a Master-Caster to help me."

Snape rubbed a small amount of the balm into one of the livid fingertip bruises on his upper arm, turning over what Alphard was saying in his mind, keeping his expression blank.

"What makes you think I can Work Spells?" Snape asked, keeping his tone even, as he watched the livid mark recede remarkably quickly.

"Oh," said Alphard softly. "Anyone who can trap a curse of the malignancy I saw in Dumbledore must be a Master-Caster. I've never seen a counter-curse of such strength and complexity." Snape watched Alphard carefully – as carefully as Alphard had clearly been watching him. So Dumbledore had told him this too? If Dumbledore had entrusted so much information to Alphard Black and Idris, perhaps it was all to the good. "And I think, Seth, you probably know that I come from a family steeped in Dark spell-work to recognise the skill."

Snape nodded curtly. He had invented such spells as would certainly be at home in the Dark books housed in the library of the House of Black, most certainly. The older he became, the less proud he was. At least, his Dark knowledge could now be used to counter the Dark magic he used to revere so greatly. He fingered a scroll Alphard had pushed towards him, covered in Runic workings and Arithmetical calculations, with different permutations of Latin castings worked and re-worked. Everything this man was doing, Snape wanted to do. Just a brief glimpse of Alphard's attempts at Spell-Working fired his imagination.

Snape regarded Alphard for a moment, his innate reserve in working alone challenged by this opportunity.

"It's true that I have invented many spells; many of them Dark. I have, I am sorry to say, an affinity for Dark spells, creating them and now defeating them – if I can. Perhaps, I can copy over your spell-work so far and look at it. Remus is very gifted at Arithmancy too. He could help." Snape didn't rule out asking Dumbledore. After all, it was he who broke the Thrall.

"I couldn't help but notice your scars," said Alphard mildly, indicating Snape's abdomen. "I hope you don't mind my saying but it's clear they are also cursed scars. How did it happen?"

Snape was momentarily confused, but then he recalled the gouge scars across his midriff that Alphard must have seen before he screened them both off. Any embarrassment he may have felt at having been so displayed quickly extinguished itself with what Alphard seemed to be implying.

"No, not a spell," Snape admitted. "It was Remus - a wound received at the full moon." Alphard's eyes went wide and Snape hurried to continue. "I had rescued Remus from the Dark Lord but he'd been under the Cruciatus and had had no Wolfsbane. Even though he marked me before he transformed, his wolf did not recognise me at first and attacked me. I passed out, but when I came to, the wolf had healed the gouges as you saw them."

Alphard seemed transfixed by the tale and held Snape's gaze for what seemed an inordinately long time, then a fire seemed to light his eyes.

"But this is extraordinary, Seth!" Alphard said, clearly excited. "Although you weren't bitten, the wolf's saliva was delivered directly into the wounds to heal you! You should have been infected!" Alphard swivelled to his desk and grabbed quill and parchment and insisted Snape sit down and tell him the story again. It had never occurred to Snape, but, of course, Alphard was quite right: it was the saliva of the transformed werewolf that carried the Lycanthropic curse. He watched Alphard scribble the details down, Snape himself now quite excited as he wondered how it was that the only Lycanthropy he had was the Claim itself.

"I wonder..." he ventured, one of his leaps for which he had achieved such potions success occurring to him now, "I wonder if the Claiming beforehand works like a Muggle inoculation." He breathed in deeply with the thought and shuffled forward on his chair towards Alphard, stabbing the table for emphasis with his finger. "How else can it be explained?"

Alphard's brow furrowed even as he shifted excitedly in his chair. "An inoculation against Lycanthropy? It might be an avenue to research. We don't tend to look at curses the way Muggles look at their illnesses, so convinced are we that curses have no physical pathology to be tracked." He grinned at Snape. "Even this short conversation convinces me I'm right to ask you to collaborate with me."

"With the Spell-Working?"

"No, no. More than that! More than that!" Alphard began to pull other scrolls and scraps towards him. "This is what I've been working on," he said, unrolling one particular scroll. "Dear Merlin, it nearly got me killed," he said breathlessly, "and countless others, if you hadn't been on our side." Snape felt Alphard's appraising gaze.

"I left the camp to pick up a new ingredient for this." Alphard shook his head. "It was beyond careless," he whispered in self-criticism. "I was experimenting with a potion to help the older werewolves. They have no energy or pliability to transform safely. It's all well and good to perfect the balm to treat the injuries, but I want to prevent as many as I can. I've been modifying a potion of my own making and I'm making inroads, but they're slow. I wanted to try a new ingredient that might assist."

Snape moved to look at the research notes more closely – so like his own research – how could he possibly resist?

"I have been trying to work on similar research to ease Remus's transformations as he gets older. May I see what you have?" he asked formally, suddenly wondering if some form of professional rivalry would prevail over their extraordinary similarity of circumstance.

"Of course!" said Alphard, seemingly delighted. "Of course! Dumbledore's Potions master! Who could ask for more?" Dumbledore really had told them everything, it seemed, and it still unnerved him that Dumbledore had taken such a risk. Snape spread the scroll carefully and then smiled a tight appreciative smile at the coherent layout and cross-referencing.

Snape's expert eyes scanned the method and the ingredients, immediately seeing some miscalculations in its early states, but seeing also that Alphard had worked them through, noting meticulously all effects in minute detail. Utterly engrossed, Snape leant forward in his chair, his mind turning over. Alphard was actually further along than he was. Of course, he had a huge pack to observe, all different ages and degrees of damage. He shifted as he carried on reading. The researches were good, but he could add more. Oh yes.

"So, you're looking at a South American solanacae base ... nightshade?"

"Yes! I think it's a vegetable base that can be tolerated by the werewolf palette and can handle the antipyretic qualities of the willow bark without destroying it, and transfer it better, but also, with aggregation, it will add pliancy to the joints of patients, making the transformation more like those of a younger werewolf." Alphard was almost tripping over his words in excitement.

"Yes, I see." He followed the compounds, considering their interactions with each. "Of course, you would need to reduce honey and also the goat spleen in equal proportions and possibly extend the brewing time or you won't be able to stabilise the nightshade base properly."

He looked up quickly, expecting to see disgruntlement at such an interference but saw instead the delight of a mutually beneficial project.

"Do you know, before this happened, I had only been thinking that I wish I had a way to contact you. I'm not an Apothecary, although I'm a good brewer ..."

"... I should say you are to have got this far ..."

"But I know my limitations, Seth. But with your expertise, we could crack this!" exclaimed Alphard, slapping one fist into the palm of his other hand excitedly. "We could! What do you say? Will you work with me? Collaborate? We could exchange notes by owl ..." Alphard raised his eyebrows, his eyes alight. Well, they did have a shared purpose, didn't they? Did two wizards ever have such an unusual, shared purpose as they?

Snape stared at all of Alphard's meticulous notes, his fingertips fairly itching to have copies of them.

"Yes," he resolved firmly. "Yes, I will, Alphard."

"Marvellous!" Alphard cried then they both turned quickly to hear Lupin's muffled snore as he must have shuffled in the bed.

"Well, I have to do my rounds now. You look through these. Copy whatever you want – there's plenty of parchment." Alphard hefted a satchel full of balms and medicines. "When I get back, I'm afraid we'll have to wake Sleeping Beauty. Breakfast, then I dare say I'll need to plan for some kind of field hospital." Alphard's expression had become serious once more. He smiled briefly and then left the tent.

A research partner. He hadn't done any research with a partner since Lily, over twenty years ago. The prospect frightened and fascinated him all at once. As he flicked through the sheaths of parchment, he could see that Alphard had a clear focus and excellent medical understanding. In the book shelves by the desks were more books on werewolves than he had ever known existed, in many languages, as well as medical texts. He noticed a compartment off the main portion of the tent – separate and vented for brewing.

Extraordinary, Snape thought, how there are such disparate people in the world who yet have so much in common, and Fate can conspire to bring us together. Could this be the end of Remus's suffering? His chest swelled with happiness that together they might bring this about.

Then he heard Lupin call his name, his voice still sleep-deep and deliciously hoarse.

Snape returned to the main part of the tent and looked behind the screen to see Lupin still only just covered by the counterpane.

"Come back to bed. Just for an hour," Lupin said softly, holding his hand out. Snape took it and sat on the edge of the bed. He traced his hand lightly over that attractive crest of Lupin's hip towards his navel and downwards.

As if he would ever say no.

oooOOOooo

By the time Angharad joined them in the tent bringing breakfast for them a couple of hours after sunrise, both Snape and Lupin were up and dressed. Lupin was helping Snape cast copying charms over Alphard's research notes to be sent on later by owl for safety's sake and Snape was explaining the nature of their joint undertaking, much to Lupin's excitement.

Alphard returned at the same time with news that seven of Greyback's werewolves had been captured trying to scout out the encampment in the early hours, and were now bound and gagged with Scabior in a heavily warded tent. As Alphard relayed the news and Angharad set down porridge, bread and a pot of tea before them, Idris strode through with his sons.

"Aye, it woulda been good news, but now they have reinforcements," growled Idris.

"What? Who?" demanded Snape.

"Six wizards, one a witch," Geraint supplied. "Apparated in at dawn."

"Describe them as best you can," demanded Snape, and listened intently as Geraint described the wizards. They were of no consequence: most of the dangerous Death Eaters were still incarcerated in Azkaban after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, but the witch ... was clearly none other than Bellatrix. And that was bad news but not the worst.

"They're no more than decent fighters, any of them," said Snape. "But the witch - she is powerful and skilful, but it isn't enough. They think they've stolen a march on you, but they're still woefully short of wand-power. I don't think I need to remind you that these wizards, as well as the werewolves you're about to face, think nothing of casting a Killing Curse, or a Torture Curse. Give them no quarter. Kill if you have to."

"If'n I have to?" Idris repeated, with a snort of laughter. "I'll be hard-pressed not to."

Snape turned to Alphard. "Do you know who the witch is?"

"I think I can take an educated guess," replied Alphard quietly, his face already paling. "My niece, Bella."

Snape nodded abruptly. "It's probably best you stay here to run the field hospital," he suggested.

"No! I will fight with the pack. It's my family now," responded Alphard, his jaw set, suddenly looking very much like his nephew. And there was the point – that blasted family resemblance!

"You should reconsider ..."

"And will you?" interjected Lupin quickly. Snape scowled and left the table for his robe.

"If you insist on fighting then drink this before battle." Snape produced a miniature flask from his cloak and enlarged it and then passed it to Alphard. "And I will do the same."

"What's this?" Alphard wrinkled his nose as he smelt the brew. "Polyjuice? But why?"

"So you cannot be identified," said Snape impatiently. "Bellatrix will surely recognise you if she sees you. I promise you, if the Dark Lord or any of his Death Eaters find out that Alphard Black is the mate of a werewolf then he himself will come for you! You would be quite the prize," said Snape unpleasantly, deliberately provocatively. "Then this battle will all have been in vain. We want him to think this pack is too much trouble and not look to this mountain again. A blood traitor of your stature will be more than he can resist. He will want to make an example of you."

"Why you ..." Idris started forward, his fists clenched, clearly offended by Snape's tone.

"No, Idris! He's right," Alphard said quickly, interposing himself in front of Idris. "He's only saying what they will think, that's all."

Idris's glare narrowed as he looked at Alphard, and then stood away.

"I thought ..." Idris muttered.

"I know," said Alphard softly. "Seth is just trying to make me understand what we face." He turned to Snape. "And I do." He nodded at Snape. "I do now. Polyjuice lasts an hour. Is that long enough?"

"This is an enhanced version," said Snape. "It will last approximately three hours."

"Another of your designs?" asked Alphard.

"No. This one was taken from a Death Eater's stock. I deconstructed it for the ingredients. Took me several brews to get the method right though."

"Crouch?" asked Lupin.

Snape nodded. "He was in no state for me to question once Fudge had sent that Dementor in."

Lupin shuddered and cupped his hand over Snape's. Snape didn't withdraw his hand, surprising himself that he didn't. What a remarkable place he found himself in here: discussing spell creation and werewolf balms and potions and battle tactics with the man he loved at his side, and revelling in the delight of open affection. Would he even have credited such a scenario four years ago? He gave Lupin a small smile, his thumb stroking the hand over his own.

"So, some hairs for the potion," Snape said finally, "from someone healthy, agile and quick, if you please." Snape saw a crooked smile on Lupin's face: the smile that implied 'prank'. "And male."

Lupin snorted.

oooOOOooo

By 11 in the morning, all those able to fight were assembled in the clearing of the roundhouse. The atmosphere of adrenaline was palpable. Snape could swear he could smell the werewolf testosterone in the air, heavy and pungent.

Fifty werewolves under the leadership of Idris's five adult sons were sent out in groups to surround the battle clearing in a pincer movement, leaving a small exit for any of Greyback's cohort who might be unable to Disapparate to escape when the time came. The fifty had the advantage of knowing the landscape well, whereas Greyback's pack knew little other than what Jake and the other two traitors could tell them. The great, ancient trees of the forest would give them cover, and their familiarity with it would give them the silence and stealth to stalk their prey.

Snape was Polyjuiced into a young werewolf, the original of whom had set out with Geraint's group and Alphard into a middle-aged werewolf who, likewise, had set out with another of Idris's sons, Medwyn. The young werewolf was taller and stockier than Snape and he felt the body to be unwieldy. He spent the time waiting practising duelling stances and transitions to try to get used to the feel of the body much less lithe but stronger than his own, as Lupin parried his practice spells.

Stacy was at Idris's side in a cloak, which had surprised Snape, but Idris assured him that Stacy would be instrumental to their success. He did not explain why Stacy alone wore a cumbersome cloak in which it would be impossible to fight.

"Just be prepared, Seth. Be prepared," Idris rumbled cryptically.

"I expect the Death Eaters will call down the Dementors as soon as they believe the pack is out of your protective enchantments," Lupin said.

"We learnt our lessons from you well, Remus Lupin," Angharad said, as she instructed the six younger werewolves who were to help care for the injured and to be stretcher-bearers, who would follow the main pack.

"Well, here's another," said Lupin, loudly enough for all to hear. "The ones you go to face will use any spell, no matter how Dark. You must not think they will not stoop to the Killing Curse or the Torture Curse, because they will." The gathered werewolves began to mutter under their breath. "Dodge! Dive! Feint! Do not let them have a clear shot at you. These werewolves have no honour of the pack fight. Leave the witch to us!"

"Hear him!" Idris scowled.

Idris stood now at the centre of the clearing, and Snape could see a tremor in his wand-hand, undoubtedly the adrenaline starting to surge by the look of granite about his face.

"The werewolves we go to fight may look like our kind!" snarled Idris, catching everyone's attention with his bass voice carrying across the clearing. Silence fell. Heavy silence, laden with tension.

"They may smell like our kind!" Idris declaimed, turning slowly to look at the remaining fighters, male and female, young and old, all looking to him to lead them, but with fire in their eyes.

"But don't ye be mistaken!" he growled menacingly. "These are not our kind!"

He turned again, his dark eyes aflame, his mighty hands clenched. Even Snape found himself drawn in to the pack mentality, his blood now starting to pound in his veins as his body readied itself for the fray.

"These are the worst of us! They will fight like cowards with Killin' Curses an' trickery. These are the reason we have to live in these mountains! Why we are despised! These are the beasts that give us that name!" Idris roared.

The werewolves had gone from the twitches of accumulating adrenaline to shouts of angry assent now, some shaking their fists and brandishing glinting knives as well as wands.

Idris's eyes narrowed and his voice became low, reverberating in its depth.

"They will rape your mates and defile your cubs!"

Angry shouts and violent protestations met this last, all the pack knowing what had befallen Bronwen at Greyback's hands. Snape felt the surge of fury of the pack around him, powerfully righteous and incandescent.

"Scavengers and jackals, all! An' we surrender to no jackals!"

The pack's roar of assent went up and Idris strode out as the pack ranged out about him.

"MOVE OUT!"

With the knowledge that fifty werewolves were already surrounding Greyback's pack, albeit at a distance, the pack moved out confidently, leaving a band of twenty behind to patrol the perimeter to keep those too infirm or young to fight secure.

At first, Snape wondered why they hadn't Apparated directly to the battle clearing, but he soon came to understand that the march of the werewolves around the mountainside in the sharp, astringent air cleared the senses – focused them. The roaring rabble was marched into a highly-focused fighting force by the time the clearing came in sight and, no doubt, the sound of so many on the march would help to undermine the confidence of Greyback's pack.

As the clearing came into view, Snape saw Greyback and his pack standing there, with the six wizards, lower ranked, and Bellatrix. He saw them squinting and covering their eyes. Oh, clever Idris and his mountain knowledge as the low, mid-winter sun blinded the opposing band so they couldn't make out the true numbers ranging against them until it was too late.

Then he felt it, and could see the others did too, the unnatural chill as a mist descended and the previously bright mid-winter day darkened and the mountain clouds lowered. In his mind were the pleading eyes of Lupin, bound at his feet, as he cut savagely into his mind ...

The Dementors were gliding down from the skies towards them.

"Hold your positions and wait for me!" Idris commanded, even as Snape saw his face begin to draw in anxiety and despair. Snape had a fair idea what Idris was now remembering.

The Dementors glided lower and lower, some of them beginning to swoop in anticipation as they neared where the pack stood.

"You can't deny the Dark Lord for long!" Greyback shouted, a leer plastered on his face. "Come with me now and give me Snape, and your pack will be spared!"

Snape heard a guttural, undoubtedly animalistic growl from deep in the Alpha's throat as his mouth turned down even further in revulsion.

"I was named for this mountain. AND HERE I WILL STAY!" Idris bellowed, then raised his wand. "Now, my pack!"

As one, the pack cast and roared, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The pack cast their Patronuses at the Dementors and, as the forms ran bounded forward, the mass of silver wolves and a doe coalesced into one huge pack, reverberating almost painfully with the pack's magic, that chased the Dementors down, enveloped them – and extinguished them as a crashing wave would extinguish a campfire – the Dementors hissed out of existence under the force of gorging on so much Light magic, leaving the ragged band of Greyback's werewolves and wizards exposed before them, circled by the luminescent forms.

Idris looked well-pleased. "Because we are pack," he growled, as each werewolf and two wizards recalled their Patronuses and stood their ground.

"Wands at the ready," Idris snarled, his gaze locking with Greyback "Hold your stance. This is our mountain. We give away nothing!"

Then he whispered to Stacy who lumbered forward in front of the pack uncatching his cloak. Snape saw Greyback start to guffaw unpleasantly and Bellatrix shrieked with demented laughter, followed by the others of their pack.

Then Stacy transformed into a huge wolf and the cloak fell to the ground. It was almost as fluid a transition as an Animagus. The wolf snarled, its lips pulled over its vicious teeth as it strode in front of its pack mates protectively, head lowered looking directly at Greyback's pack.

A film of sweat popped on Snape's skin as he felt his knees weaken – a werewolf capable of shape-shifting at will – it was the stuff of legend - and nightmares. He heard Lupin whisper, "Dear Merlin." Faint cries of fear could be heard from the group they faced, and then Snape sneered as he saw Jake, Uriah and Jude Disapparate and he could make out Bellatrix stiffening her duelling stance, her foul laughter stoppered as her face frozen in disbelief.

Each werewolf now picked his adversary, like Idris, locking eyes with them, knowing every one of their opponents were outnumbered three to one. Snape knew who he and Lupin had already elected to fight, having more duelling experience than the pack. He saw her there at the front, her dark hair as wild as her eyes, alight with malice, crooked wand at the ready. There was plenty of raw power here to duel Bellatrix, but oh she was an accomplished Dark witch and for this battle – she was his: his and Lupin's for each had a score to settle with her.

He heard the cracking of bones in the necks and shoulders and hands of the pack around him, preparing to fight, with wand, knife or fist – any way – it made no difference. Victory was all that mattered now.

"STAND UP!" Idris's battle roar went up and the pack began to run heavily towards Greyback's band as the wolf bounded ahead, snarling and snapping its jaws.

Immediately, panicked jets of green began flying towards the wolf, Greyback's pack forgetting the rest of their adversaries, accompanied by the wild cackles of Bellatrix, but with preternatural speed, the wolf seemed to dodge them all. Snape wasn't sure if his eyes deceived him, some even seemed to rebound from its coat – but that couldn't be right, could it?

Even as they all ran thunderously, yelling and some howling, casting their own Stunning Curses, Snape could see some of the werewolves facing them hopping with panic at the sight of the wolf and so many other werewolves. In just a few minutes, another three had Disapparated to Greyback's indignant howls of "STAND FAST, YOU BASTARDS! FIGHT!"

"To the right is Nero," he heard Lupin shout to the lieutenants, "and the left is Aidan and Jared is behind! Wizards are ranged behind them. Take them all out!"

Idris's lieutenants now had their marks and began to unleash curses against those named, but it seemed one of the pack already had already marked Aidan as his quarry. As all manner of curses flew around the bounding, slavering wolf, the wolf's object became clear: Aidan, the murderer of Acastus – the werewolf who had taken the Killing Curse meant for Stacy. Now Stacy sought his revenge.

The wolf had his prey's scent. Aidan realised a second too late that he had focused on the wrong target remembered from Whitby when he raised his wand to Lupin, and even as he tried to turn his wand, the wolf sprang high and was on him, at his neck, snarling and shaking as he bit in a frenzy – the spray of blood catching those around him, but none could assist – they all knew it was too late even as Aidan's screams gurgled away to nothing. Jared was covered in sprayed blood, seeming to fix him in terror to the spot until Lupin's curse knocked him off his feet, then he was galvanised and began to duel fiercely, even from his prone position on the floor. Alphard duelled Nero and the two seemed evenly matched, as Idris's lieutenants and his pack stormed into the mass of Greyback's packs with knives as well as wands, the fighting becoming more visceral.

Snape tore his eyes away from the body being thrown around by the wolf as he gained on his own target, a flagellating curse, following on quickly from Stunner rebounding from his Shield Charm as Bellatrix faced him, unerringly knowing that she had been targeted. A fiery lash sped from her wand, but Snape doused it with a Conjured shower of ice shards that cut into anyone they contacted, cutting her unprotected wand hand. All around them, curses were hollered and coloured curses blazed past them, but Snape and Bellatrix cast their curses soundlessly and viciously, with all the malice they could muster. Snape was sure that the first to incant aloud would utter the Avada Kedavra; he was certain.

Bolts of red and gold and silver streaked from their wands as their eyes glittered maliciously and their wands danced with slashing, cutting and jagged movements of spells that presaged mutilation for those not agile enough to side-step the impact of their curses, obscuring for them the vicious duelling that surrounded them, as werewolves fell under spells and knives, and then fists and boots.

Idris and Greyback were duelling, their incantations roared at each other, their wand movements huge, both packs giving them a wide berth, but Snape was only peripherally aware. His eyes were focused on Bellatrix, so much so that he didn't notice Nero suddenly turning from Alphard and casting Incarcerous at Snape's ankles. As he stumbled in his bonds, Lupin was suddenly there, duelling in his place to shield him.

Bellatrix cackled wildly. "The half-breed! The Order's flea-bitten wolfie!" she cooed in that infantile voice that angered Snape beyond all reason as he cast Finite Incantatum to the bindings on his legs and scrambled to his feet, both he and Lupin now duelling Bellatrix until he saw Nero trying to advance stealthily again, and Snape turned quickly crying, "STUPEFY!" and that werewolf was down, lying next to Jared.

Snape quickly looked about him. Most of Greyback's troops were down, Stupefied or worse, overrun by the mountain pack. Stacy's wolf alone accounted for four, from what Snape could see, and the wolf itself was still in a killing frenzy. There were casualties for Idris's forces too, but not so many and those standing kept the injured behind them so the bearers could take them to safety. Then Snape heard the howls of outrage as Greyback's werewolves started to realise they were being flanked by hexes and curses from the sides too as the pincer movement led by Idris's sons closed in on Greyback and his remaining eleven fighters, picking them off easily, Stunned or desperately injured, one by one they found themselves bound by their enemies until only five remained, duelling frantically.

In that instant of looking around him instead of at his target, he heard the curse screech from the Dark witch's lips:

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

It hit Lupin squarely.

"NO!" Snape yelled, spinning to Lupin, as suddenly Alphard was there to block Bellatrix's repetition with a Shield Charm of his own and began to draw Bellatrix away from Snape as Snape furiously cast the counter-curse at the deep lacerations shearing through Lupin's chest as blood spurted from the wounds and he writhed in agony. Snape blocked the sounds and sights of the battle from his consciousness completely as he crouched over Lupin's body, pulling together Lupin's flesh and knitting his wounds with his incantation as his wand drew over the wounds, even as the huge wolf, gouts of blood still smearing its jaws, also came to guard them, pacing around, watching from side to side for threats even as Alphard threw himself into the vicious duel with his niece.

As Snape finished knitting together the wounds, two of the designated bearers darted forward and bundled Lupin on a stretcher to move him out of the field of battle.

"Dittany!" hissed Snape at them. "Without delay." The young werewolves nodded, scuttling away with their precious charge to the cover of the trees as Snape watched like a hawk until he saw Angharad take charge of him. Only then did his attention snap back to the moment of battle in time to see the wolf leap at Bellatrix who was standing over Alphard Stupefied at her feet with demented glee. As the wolf leapt, Snape cast Rennervate at Alphard and he rolled out of harm's way.

She sent curse after curse at the wolf and one curse took and the wolf's agonised whine cut through the bedlam as it fell heavily to the ground and thrashed, whimpering on the ground. Alphard rushed to the wolf's aid, as Snape cast a whipping curse hot on the heels of a laceration curse that caught Bellatrix's wand arm as he saw her form the casting for the Killing Curse at Alphard and then blasted her backwards, although his Stunner missed. She re-cast her Shield Charm and staggered back, blood pouring down her arm, looking wildly around herself at the many werewolves now surrounding her, their hatred plain. The three remaining wizards not bound, Disapparated, leaving her completely unguarded.

"Come, you stupid brute! You've failed!" Bellatrix screamed at Greyback as she Disapparated just as Idris slammed into him, taking Greyback's feet from under him and jammed his elbow sharply into Greyback's windpipe to take his breath away. Greyback rolled on the ground, gasping for air as Idris kicked him in the ribs then stood over him.

"A wizard's lap-dog – that's all you are. Well, get up! GET UP, I SAY!" Idris bellowed as he grabbed the wand that had fallen from Greyback's grasp. Slowly, Greyback crawled onto on fours and as he managed to catch his breath his stood, shakily and trying to carry himself with a shred of dignity, but he could barely balance. The now lone werewolf stood, bent over, with his hands on his knees, rasping for breath, half his pack strewn about him, dead or injured, as the mountain Alpha towered over him, his face as mask of revulsion and hatred, ignoring the blood dripped from his own mouth and nose, his fingers straining as they held his wand – the desire to snap it deeply etched in Idris's features.

"You go to your precious Dark Lord, Fenrir," growled Idris menacingly. "And you tell him what waits for you both here if you dare return. Death will always wait for you here – on my mountain."

Idris kicked the werewolf hard, knocking him down once more to add insult to injury as Greyback scrambled to his feet once more and staggered a few steps backwards, anger and fear warring in his features, then Idris tossed Greyback's wand to him and, with his own roar of impotent rage, he Disapparated.

The pack's roar of triumph went up as their prisoners were hauled to their feet, or Levitated if too badly injured, to move out once more.

Snape didn't stay to see what happened then but with a quick nod to Alphard who acknowledged it, he Apparated the perimeter of the wards and rushed through towards the roundhouse where Alphard had set up the field hospital, catching sight of the stretcher carrying Lupin just ahead. He guided them to the tent instead of the roundhouse, and then ordered them away.

"I'm all right, Severus," wheezed Lupin, his pallor shocking, almost transparent. Snape's Cutting Curse created terrible trauma to the nervous system, even though Snape had healed it almost instantly. Snape kneeled by the stretcher, and stroked Lupin's face, gulping down his own huge guilt, as he pressed his own cheek against Lupin's. "They've given me Dittany. All will be well. Help me to bed."

Nodding mutely, Snape took Lupin's arm over his shoulder and bore his weight as he helped him to stand and removed the bloody shirt from his body.

"So, what's your great Slytherin plan for my escape then?" Snape asked, trying to mask from Lupin how terrified he was feeling, although he still felt a tremor of adrenaline in the set of his own jaw as he helped Lupin onto the bed they had shared last night and pulled off Lupin's boots.

"It's quite simple. I'm going to let you go," Lupin said, his voice weak, as Snape helped him to lie down.

"Pardon?"

"I let you go." Lupin smiled weakly. "We say I put on an act for Idris because I know you are a member of the Order and I needed to make sure I kept you to myself to keep my fellow Order member safe. I pretended to have a grievance against you. And, of course, you are not just any member, but the very double agent who saved me from Voldemort and Greyback's clutches last summer." Lupin paused to breathe deeply, clearly having overexerted himself. Then he continued. "Whilst the triumphant side carouses, I will free you thus paying back my life debt." Even though he was clearly weak, Lupin's eyes twinkled as Snape's eyebrows rose high in surprise.

But it was perfect! Clever, clever Remus, playing the double agent card so well. A favour for a favour; that first favour having been at the Dark Lord's own instigation! It was perfection!

"It's duplicitous to the point of complete honesty," laughed Lupin wheezily, as he clutched his chest, "except for our mating, of course." Lupin gave Snape an affectionate nudge with his hand. "Is it Slytherin enough for you?"

A smile slowly broke over Snape's face, as broad as he could ever remember smiling in his life as he plumped the pillow and placed it back under Lupin's head. "It certainly is." He laughed quietly. "We say then that you slip me my wand or deliberately leave it where I can get it once the victory celebrations start. I'll take those wizards with me but I'll leave the werewolves, if that's all right with you," he added with a smirk to Idris who had come into the tent with Angharad as Snape spoke, his injuries clearly having been tended. "The Dark Lord will not expect me to save werewolves, even Greyback's companions."

Idris guffawed. "Aye. They need some learnin' before I let them go."

Alphard then strode in, his Polyjuice having worn off, looking flustered and covered in blood that was not his own as he set down his satchels of potions and balms and made his way over to Lupin, quickly siphoning the blood away from his clothes before he touched him.

"Seth has healed the worst of it," Lupin said, breathily. "And Angharad has given me Dittany." Even as Alphard took Lupin's pulse, Snape's features and body began to undulate and shift as his own Polyjuice potion wore off. He didn't complain, although the transformation always was sickening and he felt unsteady for a short time.

"Oh yes, I heard Seth's counter-curse," said Alphard, waiting until Snape had completely recovered. "I covered him as he cast it. I've never heard that curse before. Is it a Death Eater speciality? Is that how you know the counter-curse?"

Snape felt the flush at his neck and cheeks as his stomach turned over. His speciality curse never failed to dog his steps. "Yes, a Death Eater speciality," he replied, holding Lupin's sympathetic gaze. And one that could have killed Remus. More Dementor fodder – the stuff for his future nightmares, he knew.

"Will you teach the counter-curse to me later?" asked Alphard as he held Lupin's wrist for his pulse and then checked the site of the recently healed wounds, pulled together by Snape's incantations.

"Of course," Snape said, watching Alphard closely, realising that he was surveying Lupin's other scars.

"I wondered if perhaps you know what curse was used on Stacy," Alphard continued. "All the curses Bella used rebounded from Stacy in his Dark creature state, except one that has caused his eye lids to swell painfully – he's in terrible pain. I've tried everything, but I don't recognise the curse."

Snape felt his heart sink further. He closed his eyes slowly. "It sounds like the Conjunctivitis curse used to slow down dragons because their hides are impenetrable." He didn't tell Alphard that it had been his idea to use it against people during the last war: how he'd been lauded for his ingenuity. "Try Oculos draco, ecce! with this movement and it should clear, although he'll need some balm for the residual soreness." Snape showed them an elongated figure of eight, and Angharad nodded, thanked him quickly and sped away, but Alphard remained.

"A real shape-shifter," Lupin whispered to Idris. "I thought they were just legends."

"Only known one other," Idris said quietly. "The one that Turned me could change like that. As terrible a thing as I ever saw."

"But we know Stacy, and he isn't Dark," Alphard said, brightly. "If anything, I think he carried the day."

"Aye. Aye, I think he did." Idris nodded, with a faint smile.

Alphard turned back to Lupin.

"I wanted to ask you, if I may, Remus ... are all these from your transformations?" asked Alphard. When Lupin confirmed it, Alphard frowned. "So much damage. Why so much?"

"He is a werewolf who tries to live with wizards. He denies his wolf," Idris said sadly. Snape looked at him, feeling ever more wretched.

"You are not scarred like this?" asked Snape.

"I have some scarring, but nothing like this and I am much older."

"Remus used to imprison himself to keep others safe and the wolf sought prey," said Snape, his gaze holding Lupin's. "It found itself."

Idris swore under his breath and Alphard looked appalled.

"That's the difference," said Alphard. "The werewolves here have no bites other than their Turning bites; only breaks, tears and the like."

"It is better with Wolfsbane, and before the war, we could run at the moon, and there were no more injuries." Snape felt a shroud of heavy guilt settle over him again. He had failed to keep Lupin safe. "But recently ... I haven't been able to be with him and it has become painful for him again."

"What keeps you from your mate, Seth Moore? Dumbledore told us Riddle keeps you at the moon," Idris asked. His tone was kind and sympathetic, and Lupin held Snape's hand and nodded. Dumbledore had told them so much already – why should he and Lupin have to shoulder everything alone?

Snape outlined to Alphard and Idris the ritual he undertook every full moon, feeling his skin crawling with shame at the looks of horror on their faces when he described his own blood-letting until he could bear to look at them no more, even though Lupin held his hand, squeezing it every now and then in re-assurance.

"Dumbledore told us you provided Riddle a service ... but this ..." Idris shook his head with sadness.

"But wait, Seth," said Alphard, a conspiratorial half smile forming on his lips. "Don't you realise what this means." Alphard started to chuckle, much to Snape's confusion and growing consternation.

"Your blood? Your Lycanthropic blood!" With that, Alphard roared with laughter and clapped his hands. "It's too good! Your blood fizzes with your mate's Lycanthropy and the lord of blood purity imbibes it freely, the bloody cannibal!"

Snape's eyes widened comically slowly as he turned to watch understanding dawn on Lupin's face as Alphard excitedly told them his and Snape's discussion that morning, as Idris's grizzled face frowned in concentration, and as Alphard talked, so a plan – a bold and beautiful plan – began to form in Snape's mind.

"But this is it!" gasped Snape in an epiphany. "This is how I escape at the moon, Remus! I say I was injured by one of the werewolves and my blood is now unworthy ..."

"It's too risky, Severus!" Lupin disagreed, forgetting his own charge to all to call Snape 'Seth'. "He might kill you."

"No," Snape reassured Lupin, moving forward to be nearer to him and clutching Lupin's hands to his chest. "I'm convinced it will work. I will have rescued the Dark Lord's wizards, have injuries as my proof, and I still have the trust of the Order's very own werewolf as well as Albus! No other Death Eater can give him that! Merlin and Nimue, Remus! It's perfect!" Snape's heart was beating very fast with the exhilaration of the thought of freedom at the moon. He might still be punished, yes; but he wasn't going to tell Lupin that.

He stood quickly.

"When you put me to bed after the wolf gouged me ..." He sat down again quickly and scooped up Lupin's hands as he saw the horror of the remembrance on Lupin's face. He shook his head gently. "Don't, my love. Just remember this for me. How different did the scars look from how they look now?" he asked softly, tenderly pushing a lock of hair away from Lupin's shining eyes.

Lupin had become quite ashen at the recollection, and he seemed unable to speak. Then, haltingly, his voice thick with emotion, he said, "The wolf's healing had closed the wounds completely. They were already silver, but the edges were raised and angry." His voice seemed to fade away. "That's the only difference," he finished in a whisper.

"Shirt off, Seth!" commanded Alphard. "I have just the thing to make that reaction on a Lycanthropic scar so it will appear as if it happened today."

Snape kissed Lupin's hand and smiled softly at him, then stood and pulled his shirt off over his head.

Alphard retrieved an Aconite root. He cut it length-wise and then brought it to Snape.

"This will burn the scar," advised Alphard simply, "but the surrounding human skin will be unaffected." Snape nodded. Alphard pressed the cut Aconite root into and across the scars. Snape hissed as he flinched and then bit his lip: it was like acid on his skin! He knew werewolves had an intolerance of the plant, but now he had an understanding why.

"There," said Alphard, as he wiped the residue of sap-like substance from Snape's scars. "Like new." He smiled brightly. "If you don't treat those Aconite burns with ordinary burn salve, those welts will remain. As soon as you can, get them treated. They'll clear up straightway."

Snape inspected the burns. Good. Snape wasn't concerned that it wasn't full moon: there were other partially-transformed werewolves like Greyback who would be capable of transmitting a dilute form of the contagion. Indeed, Greyback boasted of it often. The Dark Lord knew this.

He grabbed his shirt and cast a spell to rent the garment as if caught by claws. Then he cast a small cutting charm to his thumb and siphoned some blood and replicated it with a charm to drench the shreds of his shirt, still with his back to Lupin and then pulled it back on, quickly pulling on his robe so Lupin wouldn't see the disturbing overall effect.

Snape's stomach was fluttering warmly. If he could just pull this off ...

"I'll need more injuries," said Snape suddenly.

"What?" blustered Lupin, clearly startled.

"A black eye, or a split lip – very visible bruising, blood ... for when the Dark Lord sees me. Will you hit me?" Snape asked Idris, as if ordering a cup of tea.

"No!" cried Lupin in shock, starting up from the bed.

"How hard, boy?" growled Idris, with a half grin, as he stood in front of Lupin so he could not see and, before Snape could answer, swung into Snape's face. There was a sickening crunch as pain fanned through his facial nerves, as Snape fell to the floor from the fierce blow.

"That hard," rasped Snape as he held his own cheek. "'Xactly that."

It would be perfect: a shattered cheek would create the illusion on first sight that he needed. Cradling the side of his face, Snape took the phial of pain reliever that Alphard proffered, as Alphard helped Snape up and then back to sit on Lupin's bed.

"Dear sweet Merlin!" breathed Lupin, grasping Snape's hand. Despite swelling starting to form around his cheekbone and eye, all Snape could think about was how upset Lupin looked, staring at the injury blossoming on his face, adding to the bruising already there, and to those that Lupin knew covered his body and the reminder of the wolf.

"I know it looks bad, Remus, but I'll be fine. If anything, these injuries will save me. As soon as I leave the Dark Lord, Remus, Poppy will heal them all, I promise you." He leant forward, even though it made his shattered cheek throb unpleasantly, and kissed Lupin's lips.

"And we'll have the moon again, Remus," Snape whispered. "Just the two of us, as it should be."

Next chapter: Snape must explain all to the Dark Lord.

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You Will Not Kiss Me