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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
- 92
- 93
- 94
Direct quotes from Chapter 33 of DH are in bold and © J.K. Rowling

Chapter 93: Unbearable Truths

Snape had called Lupin on the mirror and told him Dumbledore needed to speak to him, but not until 11.

"I'll wait up," offered Lupin.

"No, Remus. Albus is talking in riddles again. I don't know how long he'll be and it's full moon tomorrow. You need your rest."

"Severus – if it's very late, perhaps you should stay there the night, so you can get some sleep ...

"No. I'd rather be home." Snape gaze was intent on Lupin, who smiled softly at him.

"I'll see you then."

At least it gave Snape time to shower and change. It didn't matter that he'd managed to siphon most of Susan Fletcher's blood from him; he felt filthy – as if he could never be clean. Some there had enjoyed it – of course they had – he had seen the fire of anticipation and catharsis in their eyes as the woman had been destroyed before them. Many had unmasked so they could see the spectacle better. Snape had not and had been very grateful for his mask. It had taken all his formidable skill in Occluding his mind not to weaken before the whole coven.

Greyback was disappointed that the daughter had been safely at Hogwarts but the eight year old son had died quickly at the Carrows' cruel hands – more quickly than they intended, they told the hall when they returned from the dungeon. Others were held there, he had told Dumbledore this, and yet no Aurors ever went there. Snape did not understand how the manor was now protected from Magical Law Enforcement, and Dumbledore did not explain.

Snape's stomach growled uncomfortably. He hadn't eaten since lunch, but he doubted he would be able to eat anything now, even if he were hungry. He ordered tea instead and marked students' parchments as he waited, his stomach crawling horribly as he tried not to think what this 'truth' might be.

At 11, Snape entered Dumbledore's office where Dumbledore awaited him, already seated behind his desk.

"Take a seat, Severus. Would you like some tea?"

Snape waved a hand impatiently and sat. Whatever Dumbledore had to tell him, he had his own report to make first and he reported on the murders of the Fletcher family in an emotionless voice, as Dumbledore regarded him intently. Then Dumbledore called Kingsley by Floo to arrange to put the extended Fletcher family into hiding.

"Miss Fletcher is a Ravenclaw, I believe?"

Snape nodded abruptly.

"I will speak to Filius." He still regarded Snape carefully as he stroked his beard. "You are still resentful about the favour I have asked of you."

"Resentful?" spat Snape. "This night I have watched three people lose their lives at the hands of those who enjoy suffering and murder. I hear their screaming in my head now. I can smell the blood and I don't doubt I will have nightmares of it. And yet you ask murder of me and you call it 'a favour'! As if I am lending you a book!" Snape's voice rose as he spoke, his disgust and fear mingling as his dropped his mouth onto the palm of his hand and closed his eyes tightly.

Minutes passed as Snape struggled to compose himself.

"If not you, Severus, then who?" asked Dumbledore softly, breaking his reverie. "Who will send me on my way without pain or humiliation?"

"You merely wish to consolidate my position with the Dark Lord," Snape snapped, sourly, refusing to be lulled by the inherent plea for mercy in Dumbledore's question.

"Call it a happy coincidence."

"Do not mock me, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore looked at Snape appraisingly over his half-moon glasses.

"Ah," Dumbledore sighed. "You are cross with me."

Snape exhaled sharply through gritted teeth.

"You are maddening."

"I will not be maddening you for much longer."

"Stop that!" Snape stood suddenly, his temper fraying again, holding his own hand to his brow where a headache was beginning to pulse. "Be careful Draco does not come for you this night, for this night, I might not have any compunction."

Dumbledore raised his unmarred hand in surrender and Fawkes fell silent.

"Let us not argue, Severus. Please." He gestured once more to the chair, which Snape re-took, watching Dumbledore through narrowed eyes as he stood and began to pace as Snape sat quite still.

"I promised I would tell you something, something that is absolutely critical. I could only trust you with this, Severus, as I trust so much to you, even if you do not realise it." Dumbledore emphasised the last phrase as Snape made to interrupt.

"I need you to give certain information to Harry."

Snape snorted in derision and turned away. Potter was the very last thing he needed to hear about.

"Hear me, Severus. Everything revolves now around this and the timing of it is crucial in what Harry has to do," said Dumbledore, urgently.

"What does he have to do?" Snape interrupted.

"Severus, it is vital that you understand the timing. Harry must not know, not until the last moment, not until it is necessary, otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done?' Dumbledore seemed now to be talking to himself and Snape was confused.

'But what must he do?" Snape asked yet again. Why must this infernal man speak in riddles?

'That is between Harry and me. Now, listen closely, Severus. There will come a time – after my death – do not argue, do not interrupt!" He quelled another interruption from Snape. "There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake.'

'For Nagini?' Snape couldn't mask his astonishment at this unexpected turn in the conversation.

'Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him, under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry.'

Dumbledore was clearly not going to explain. All Snape could do was to find out the message and piece it together for himself.

'Tell him what?'

Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes and Snape felt a chill of foreboding prickling at the back of his neck.

'Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself on to the only living soul left in that collapsing building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to, and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.'

Whatever Snape had been expecting, it was not this.

Dark soul magic.

A soul fragment existing in Lily's boy, connecting him to the Dark Lord. His mind struggled to grasp the enormity of it. The connection. The dreams. The Parseltongue. The protection. His mind reached harder. The wands. Yes. While that fragment of soul remains protected by the boy, the Dark Lord cannot die.

Dear Merlin. Dumbledore meant ... he meant ... Snape could hardly bring himself to say it aloud.

'So the boy ... the boy must die?' asked Snape, suddenly feeling as if submerged underwater, his whole perception dulled by shock.

'And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential.'

Essential. Snape's blood froze. The Dark Lord must kill the boy. After all these years, it had all been a ploy to get to this.

Snape couldn't speak – the treachery was too great for him even to contemplate. Eventually, he found his voice but he had to force the words out.

'I thought ... all these years ... that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.'

'We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength,' said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. 'Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth; sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will, truly, mean the end of Voldemort.'

Try the boy's strength – the Philosopher's Stone? Quirrell? The Basilisk? Barty Crouch? Had they all been allowed to happen to 'try his strength'? Snape's whole being mutinied at the thought. Had it all been engineered? Had he been so thoroughly betrayed?

Dumbledore finally opened his eyes and met Snape's horrified stare as Snape saw the man as if for the first time in his life.

'You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?' Snape said, dangerously.

'Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?'

'Lately, only those whom I could not save,' said Snape, furious at the allusion to tonight's events. He stood up, unable to contain his distress any longer.

'You have used me,' he said, despair evident in his tone.

'Meaning?'

'I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter -'

'But this is touching, Severus,' said Dumbledore. 'Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?'

'For him?' shouted Snape, angry because Dumbledore knew the truth – he knew why Snape had pledged himself, but now he was almost inarticulate with anger. Damn it all, Dumbledore knew why.

'Expecto Patronum!'

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe – his vow to protect the boy, to do all he could in the place of the woman he had betrayed to keep her son safe; she landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

'After all this time?'

'Always,' said Snape. "To keep the boy safe."

But now he knew the boy would never be safe. Dumbledore had always known the boy could never be safe, but he had made Snape swear to him anyway. Lied to him. Used him. He could no longer hold himself straight. He leant back against the wall, his ancient guilt-ridden grief for Lily beginning to simmer once more.

"Severus ..."

"Don't!" gasped Snape, as a sob constricted his throat, as the memory of his complicity in Lily's death crashed over him once more. "How dare you! You lied to me all this time. We were supposed to keep him safe ... for her ..." His voice gave out as his forehead pressed against his own hand.

"You vowed to give me anything, Severus ..."

"To protect her child," pressed Snape. He sat suddenly as if his knees could no longer hold him. "Not kill him at an appropriate time," he whispered.

"How can the boy live if Voldemort survives? Don't you see? It must be done ... "

"No!" The resurgent grief inside Snape threatened to drown him. It had all been for nothing! It was supposed to be for Lily's child to live, not for Snape to be complicit in his death too. "NO!" he raged. "That isn't what I promised!"

"But how else will you and Remus be free?" asked Dumbledore mildly.

Snape's breath came in short, painful gasps now. What was Dumbledore doing to him? Saving Potter was to have been his redemption for the terrible mistakes he had made until he turned away from the Dark Lord. If he couldn't save Potter – if he actively led him to his doom – how could he redeem himself?"

"No," Snape said. "I won't do it. It was not my vow."

Snape heard Dumbledore sigh, but Snape could not look at him. His heart was too full of pain, his stomach full of snakes. Dumbledore had betrayed him – so completely this time.

The only sound in the room was Snape's rasping breathing. Even the phoenix remained still.

"And if I tell you," said Dumbledore quietly, "that it may not mean the end for the boy? That old magic will protect him still, will you do what needs to be done? That which I am no longer able to do?" Dumbledore's tone was urgent now, even pleading.

With or without Snape to cast the final curse, Dumbledore would still die, Snape knew that. There was no way the boy could survive if he allowed the Dark Lord to smite him. But then, there was no way that he should have survived before. Lily's magic again?

"Is this the truth, or just another ploy to trick me into doing your bidding, Dumbledore?"

"It is no more than a guess, Severus, although if I say so myself, it is a finely tuned guess."

"You risk Lily's son on a guess?"

"For the sake of future generations – I do."

"If your guess is right, this part of the Dark Lord that lives inside the boy – it will certainly die?"

"Yes, but if the boy is to live, it must be Voldemort who destroys it. Harry must let Voldemort strike him down. Harry must believe he will die."

So dispassionate. So cold.

"A sacrifice," Snape said, his tone dead, realising now what Dumbledore meant. Self-sacrifice, like Lily. But Lily had not survived.

Blue eyes of extraordinary clarity pierced Snape, as they so often had before.

"Yes."

"And if you are wrong, and the boy dies?"

"At least one of Voldemort's tethers to his life here will be severed for good." He paused but then added, "But I don't believe I am wrong, Severus."

At least one. There were more then. Snape withdrew his pained gaze from Dumbledore's once more, dropping his head in his hands. How could he do this? How could he betray Lily again? But worse – so much worse – for this time, he would knowingly send her child to his death. But the boy could never live whilst Voldemort lived. It was always going to be a dance of death. A chill ran up his arms and his neck. He knew what he had to do.

"Your word, Dumbledore. A vow for a vow that you are not lying to me now."

"My word, Severus."

oooOOOooo

He stumbled from the fireplace in his quarters, and fell on his knees. He so wanted to go home to Lupin and wrap himself up in his consoling embrace, but how could he? He scrambled to his feet, swaying uncertainly, shocked to his core.

How could he go to the bed of the man who cared for that child, knowing what he knew? What kind of secret was that to keep? And if the child died? How could he ever confess his part in that child's destruction – even though he himself once would have acquiesced in it for his own ends? It made his insides freeze.

His head fell against the wall, and his eyes shut tight, dry and hot under his eyelids.

"Merlin help me!" he whispered as he slid down the wall, his will sapping from him as the solution refused to come and he held his head on the heels of his hands. A hoarse cry of anguish ripped from his throat.

In the fifteen years since Lily's death, Severus Snape had had many occasions to feel his guilt and shame for taking the prophecy to the Dark Lord. He remembered now when Dumbledore had summoned him to tell him of Lily's death.

It felt as if someone had snatched his lungs out of his chest. He couldn't breathe. He had gasped and hitched, but no breath would come. His eyes began to swim as a rock of guilt and shame hurt his ribs, like a malignant creature trying to break the prison of his rib cage. His legs gave way and he had crumpled into a chair and the tears like acid spilled and he managed a mighty intake of breath.

And then the grief came. Huge and unbiddable grief, like a tidal wave he could not withstand and his body was wracked with terrible sobs, like a wounded animal as he slumped forwards in his chair. He remembered how Dumbledore had stood over him as he had tried to contain his immeasurable heartache and his bitter recriminations.

'I thought ... you were going ... to keep her ... safe ...' he had sobbed, the pain in his heart refusing to subside, hurting his lungs and throat that the grief could not be cried away.

'Her boy survives.'

He remembered he had tried to dismiss the fact. What did he care for James Potter's progeny – the proof she loved his enemy – why should he care?

'Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?'

It was the baited hook, he realised now: the use of her maiden name, the reminder of the eyes like no-one else's.

'DON'T!' Snape bellowed as the thought of her beautiful, sparkling eyes now lifeless made his heart clench painfully hard. 'Gone ... Dead ...'

'Is this remorse, Severus?'

'I wish ... I wish I were dead ...'

'And what use would that be to anyone?' said Dumbledore coldly, ignoring Snape's self-pity. 'If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.'

Snape could not comprehend what Dumbledore seemed to be saying to him. If he loved her? No-one could deny he loved her. What way forward? How could there be any way forward for him now? His only friend was dead – and he was responsible. He could only peer through his haze of pain to look questioningly at Dumbledore.

'What - what do you mean?'

'You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son.'

'He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone -' Snape barked impatiently.

' – the Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.'

Return? Return? The Dark Lord will return. Snape's mind recoiled at the thought. Her sacrifice had been for nothing then? Just to keep the baby alive for his return? An ugly flush of shame assailed him: just because she had not loved Snape in the end did not mean she did not love at all. She had loved her child. She loved her child in that fierce, protective way Lily always loved – just as she had been a fierce and protective friend to him – once.

Of course, she would die for her child and envelop him in her protective magic. It was exactly what Lily would do. It was why he had loved her so.

It galvanised him and slowly Snape regained control of himself and began to master his own breathing. He didn't want to protect Potter's son; his whole being revolted at the thought. But his craven treachery had brought Lily to this. His was the fault and so must the remedy be.

At last he could speak. 'Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear ... especially Potter's son ... I want your word!'

'My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?' Dumbedore sighed, looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face. 'If you insist ...'

And now, here he sat, in his quarters once more, draining a bottle of Firewhiskey on his own, to dull the edge of the resurgent pain. He was too ashamed to seek Lupin's comfort. He wasn't sure he deserved it. He had done it: he had killed the one person on this earth who had loved him once, had been kind, had held his hand and smiled at him.

He pictured it perfectly. It was late summer, by the swings in the park and there were two children: the boy, unkempt and misbegotten; the girl, adored and cherished. But they talked and played all day together. But now it was time for her to go home for tea. He didn't want her to go. She made him feel clever and proud to be a wizard but more than that: she made him feel wanted for the first time in his life. He squashed down his greedy urge to tell her to stay a little longer. Just because there was no tea for him, he wouldn't want her to go hungry.

"Bye, Lily," he had said softly, with a little half smile feeling out of place on his face.

"Bye, Sev," she said, happily, her green eyes twinkling and her red hair resplendent in the late afternoon dappled sunshine. Her small hand had squeezed his, making his tummy flip, and she smiled at him. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late!"

A perfect golden moment with his very own friend. This was how he remembered her. Always.

oooOOOooo

He awoke at dawn, his head hammering, crumpled in a sweaty heap on his own living room floor. He lay spread-eagled on his rug, just able to open his eyes, although it felt as if his eyelids rasped over sandpaper. He had drunk too much last night. He had cried too much last night. He was a disgrace. He Summoned a Sober-Up Potion and tried to knock it back quickly and laid flat on his back until it began to take the curse off his pounding head. Only then, did he stagger to the shower, berating himself for agreeing to Dumbledore's plan, still filled with self-disgust.

As he dressed for the day, he heard it. It was Lupin, calling to him from the mirror. Remus! How he longed to see his face. He sat shakily on the edge of the bed and answered the mirror.

"Severus. Where have you been? I waited for you."

"Remus. I'm sorry, I ..."

"You look awful," Lupin cut through him, unusual in itself. "You've been drinking."

"Yes," said Snape shortly, his brow furrowing.

"With anyone?" Lupin said

"What?" Snape was momentarily confused. "No. Of course not."

"So you'd rather drink yourself into a stupor alone than come home to me?" said Lupin, a hard edge to his voice. "You told me you'd be home."

Then Snape remembered and groaned inwardly. It was the full moon tonight. It couldn't have happened at a worse time. The day of the full moon was when Lupin's temper was at its very worst, all his sweetness and understanding swept aside by the aggressive temper of the wolf. Perhaps, it was just as well. Perhaps, Snape did not deserve Lupin's understanding or kind nature. The wolf was what he deserved after what he'd agreed to last night.

Killer. Killer of Dumbledore. Killer of the boy. Of two people Lupin truly cared for. It was nothing more than he deserved.

"I'm sorry," Snape faltered, feeling a lump in his throat again, upset for last night, upset for the sneer that marred Lupin's usually kind features when his soul ached for Lupin's kindness so much. "I'll be home straight after school."

Lupin had nodded abruptly at him and left the mirror, leaving Snape stunned, stung and shaking. In twelve hours, his whole world had turned in on itself again and tonight when he needed his husband, instead he would have the monster.

A monster for a monster. It was fitting.

oooOOOooo

Snape delayed going to the flat until the very last moment. He knew it would make Lupin's wolf angry. The wolf was already angry with him. Snape had seen it even this morning and Snape didn't feel he deserved anything other than Lupin's anger. It was the first time he had gone to meet Lupin on the full moon with trepidation as well as excitement.

He stood at the front door of the flat and breathed deeply before he let himself in. Lupin was waiting at the door of the bedroom, his eyes sharp, his features hard. Snape wondered wildly if Lupin's transformed wolf would have hunted Snape down if he hadn't come home. He almost felt it was possible, even with Wolfsbane. He felt like prey. It made him shiver. He hung up his cloak and walked to Lupin, his pulse racing and his stomach squirming at the harsh appearance of Lupin's face and the overwhelming musk that pervaded the flat. It was Snape who felt like a lamb to the slaughter now, and yet he went willingly, his eyes never leaving Lupin's, his submission never in doubt.

He reached the doorway where Lupin stood. Lupin arm wrapped around Snape's neck, more a stranglehold than an embrace. His other hand ripped open his jacket and tore the shirt as his mouth bit onto Snape's hungrily. Lupin gripped the bare revealed skin of Snape's torso, and the grip quickly became cruel. It didn't matter – Snape yielded to it with a groan as he was stripped of his clothes and pushed onto his knees.

It was exactly what Snape had wanted - Lupin's gentleness subsumed by the beast within. Snape wanted it this way – he needed it to be harsh and uncaring – brutal even; he needed to be stripped bare – to his skin – to his emotions.

And Snape was grateful for it – grateful for the forceful lust that devoured him so completely, that subsumed him in the moments of biting, bruising, thrusting lust, washing him with fervent desire and sharp sensuality that bordered on pain that erased every care and every worry and every dark fear.

For Lupin, for Lily – as far as Snape was concerned, Lupin could not be angry enough.

oooOOOooo

The transformation went smoothly, although Snape was still trembling when he held Lupin through it. As soon as the wolf took form, he dropped onto his stomach and looked at Snape pleadingly and whined.

Will you tell me, Severus? Please. What has happened?

How strange, it struck Snape, that now transformed into the wolf, Lupin had his own caring disposition, and the bestiality of the wolf was subdued.

Snape closed his eyes slowly, of course then realising he couldn't talk to Lupin unless he looked him right in the eyes.

I cannot, my love.

Unbidden, Snape's eyes welled and tears spilled over and he hung his head although it was far too late to hide his tears at the shame at what he had agreed to do. He did not believe that Lupin could ever forgive him for this – just as Lily would not have, had she lived. The brutal physicality of their full moon carnality had only assuaged his guilt for that short time. And now, it had returned full force and he had never felt so desperate – so sullied – so guilty as he did at that moment and he wondered if he would ever be able to confess the stain on his soul to Lupin. He wondered if Lupin felt it through their Bond.

The wolf whimpered and his nose nudged against Snape's hands in his lap and rested there, as if to say, 'I'm here,' and Snape stretched out to wrap his still arms around the wolf's neck and nuzzled his face into it, too desolate to cry any more but seeking comfort of a body's warmth instead and they passed the night in this desperate embrace, their bodies eventually yielding to exhausted, troubled sleep.

oooOOOooo

Snape came awake in time for moonset, his Claimed body stirring him. Lupin transformed well and then he took Snape in his arms to hold him close and they lay down together, holding each other carefully, reassuring touches gently placed until they slept again.

It was Lupin who woke Snape as he felt small massaging strokes against his body. He opened his eyes to find Lupin applying Bruise Balm and Dittany to Snape's body – his hips, thighs and waist, and to his upper arms, and to bites and scratches - all the places where the angry wolf in Lupin had shown his displeasure.

Lupin's face was pale and sad.

"Oh Severus. I'm so sorry. So sorry." Snape heard the catch in Lupin's voice, the self-loathing that his wolf had hurt his mate. Snape pulled himself up quickly so that he could catch Lupin's face with his hand.

"I should have been here on time ... you were worried ... the wolf was angry, I knew it ... I could have prevented it ... I didn't want to ..." Snape stuttered.

"You can't have wanted ..." his indicated to the worst of Snape's bruising and scratching, "this, Severus. I don't believe you did."

Snape flushed and looked away. He had been wrong to use his husband's curse to punish himself – to provoke the wolf to chastise him for his conscience. His shame burned in him again.

"It's not your fault, Remus. I provoked you. I did it on purpose because I was upset ... there was a meeting ... murders," he stuttered still, finding himself uncomfortable with the half-truths he was telling, knowing Lupin never accepted it was anything other than his own fault for the beast within.

"No, Severus. Don't say you deserved it. I'm so sorry," said Lupin, swallowing back his own visible mortification, finishing tending Snape's injuries then his hands settling on Snape's shoulders, this time so gently. "Can you tell me about the meeting?"

Snape looked up, his black eyes glittering, feeling a smarting at the back of them. He felt the constriction of the Fidelius in his throat: the sacrifice of the boy was too enmeshed with Dumbledore's death. There would be no telling Lupin until he had killed Dumbledore. Would Lupin listen then? And if he did, should Snape tell him? How could Lupin not tell this son of his friend? Not warn him to run for his life?

Snape dropped his gaze and shook his head, curtains of black hair shielding his face. He never wanted to tell Lupin what he was; he never wanted him to find out although he knew in his heart that was a vain hope.

Instead, he curled into Lupin's body, almost trying to make himself small, like a child, his head against Lupin's chest listening to his solid heartbeat, holding on to the strong arms around him as if somehow, by their presence, he could stave off the future – the future filled with death and betrayal. Strong hands held him and stroked his hair away from his face, followed by a soft kiss. For now, it was all the reassurance he could need – he had to make the most of it.

"I'm here, Severus. No matter what."
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You Will Not Kiss Me