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You Will Not Kiss Me	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 22836 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter List
- 93
- 94
- 95
Chapter 94: Of Force and Poison

Snape's day at school had been wretched and he had not spared his classes his temper or reined in his own frustration. All day he was tormented by the defeated air Lupin had worn as he had left their flat for Hogwarts.

No matter how he had tried to soothe Lupin that morning, Snape saw that Lupin was filled with revulsion for what he saw as a bestial attack upon Snape; nothing Snape could say could dissuade Lupin of his own iniquity. He so dearly wished he could spend more time making it up to Lupin. He could never do it fully – the damage was done. Lupin's deeply entrenched fear of his own creature was revived fully. Snape knew he had to try to undo it, if he could. He loved their robust love-making before the full moon. It had not been Lupin's fault that it had become something other in Snape's anxiety and distress at Dumbledore's revelations.

"Because it shows me – no matter how I strive – that I am inhuman," Lupin had said. "Cruelty is inherent in the nature of the beast." He had touched one of the many now fading bruises as if to emphasise his point.

"No," Snape had insisted. "I know you will never believe me but it's true. I provoked you. Inhuman and cruel?" Snape snorted. "If you had seen what I saw the night before, by men and women who are supposedly human ... who do not labour to be all that you are even under the pressing weight of one of the darkest curses known to mankind! You – are – not – inhuman, Remus. And you are far from cruel. I beg you not to feel guilty because of this."

"Even this, you forgive me, Severus. How did I ever come to deserve such forgiveness?" Lupin shook his head slightly even as Snape felt the continuous flutter of panic that Lupin wouldn't listen to his reassurances.

So it had been a wrench to go to school that day, worrying how much Lupin would blame himself without Snape to pull him back from the brink of his curse-induced despair. He slowly came to resolve that he had to put Dumbledore and Potter's demises from his mind until their times came. He owed it to Lupin not to wallow in his own guilt. He had agreed to both, and it was for him to convince Lupin he was not a traitor when the time came. He did not want to waste their time together driving himself and Lupin into guilt-driven madness. He hoped he could master himself enough for Lupin's sake.

He rushed home that night, ignoring Dumbledore's instruction to eat in the Great Hall. He needed to spend the time with his husband, repairing the damage he had caused.

They had eaten together, Lupin carefully and (Snape thought) painfully polite as if he were scared Snape might bolt from him. How he cursed himself for his reaction yesterday. As Tippy cleared away, Snape moved his chair next to Lupin's and smiled at him reassuringly.

Lupin's smile was faint. Fearful. Snape turned to him fully.

"I need to tell you what happened at the last meeting with the Dark Lord," he said. "I can't tell you everything that happened, or things that have been asked of me, but I hope you will understand how I reacted. I hope you will forgive me." Forgive now and in the future, thought Snape as he marshalled his thoughts to try to explain to Lupin.

"The things that have been asked of you," asked Lupin, "does Albus know?"

"Yes," Snape managed before his throat constricted tightly and he almost choked.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said quickly, seeing Snape's physical distress.

"Don't be," he gasped as his throat relaxed. It was much more than he thought he would be able to say – he wondered if it would be enough come the time of the killing for Lupin to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He breathed in deeply then he related the murder of Susan Fletcher in front of the Death Eaters with Sectumsempra by the Dark Lord. He didn't spare any detail of how long it took her to die or how much she writhed and screamed. Don Fletcher, a Muggle-born Auror, had been killed even as he left Kingsley arranging their safe passage by portkey to Ireland. Wilkes had seen them talking and pre-empted his escape with Avada Kedavra in an alley behind the Ministry. The son – Jason – had been given to the Carrows. Snape hadn't seen his death, but he had heard the screams, and then the complaints of Carrows that the child had not lasted long enough.

Snape hadn't realised that he had closed his eyes against the memories until he felt Lupin's hand clasping his. Snape opened his eyes and continued.

"Before the Fletchers, there was a family called Montrose: a Muggle-born witch, Angela, her half-blood husband, an Unspeakable, called Angus and their twin daughters, Lucy and Emily." Names were important, Snape felt. People needed names to be remembered. "Greyback asked for the daughters ..."

"You don't have to continue, Severus," said Lupin, softly. "Not if it upsets you."

"Do you understand that there are terrible things that I see and hear? Even the plans, the discussions, who will die ..." said Snape, careful not to tell Lupin whose plans he meant, holding Lupin's hands. "They affect me so. Last night, I brought my anguish home to you, and I was wrong to do it ..."

"No, not wrong! If you can't bring it to me, where can you go, Severus? The commitment I made to you is for life. I will always be here for you."

Will you? Snape's treacherous mind wondered. Will you be able to even bear me near you in times to come when I put paid to those you hold dear?

"Spies," Lupin said and then spoke slowly, as if weighing every word. "Men like us who sacrifice our lives, our reputations to be what we need to be. How do men like us survive, Severus, men who live in the shadows?" Lupin reversed their hands so he was now holding Snape's. "I'm lucky. Because you insisted, I have been allowed to leave the shadows and I can have a life - but only because I have your love and companionship. If I did not, perhaps I would still be with the werewolves now, sinking further into despair and succumbing to my aggressive nature because it would be easier." Lupin picked up Snape's hands and kissed them when Snape started to protest.

"You are still in the shadows and I know they are deep shadows." Lupin pressed his own face into Snape's hands and Snape found himself almost overwhelmed by the supplication in the gesture. "I know you cannot tell me the terrible things that are asked of you, but trust me that I know the weight of Darkness." Snape nodded mutely. "I will be with you, as I have sworn with my every breath. I know there are terrible things you must do for the Light and they oppress your soul. Will you accept that I love you still?"

"If you will accept the same," said Snape urgently, seeing his advantage. Snape saw Lupin frame a denial – another denigration of himself but he bit his lip instead and nodded slowly.

"My Severus. If we don't have each other, what do we have?"

Snape wondered if he had not fallen so in love and bonded whether his duty now would be so onerous. If he did not safeguard Lupin's soul, would he find the acts of treachery required for the Light easier than he did now? Or would he crumple under the weight of the betrayal? Why even ask himself the question? He would never wish to be without what they had now. He didn't know if he could even live if Lupin left him.

"You would never do what I have done, Remus," said Snape, heavily.

Lupin regarded him solemnly. "No. I would not have pledged myself to the Dark." Snape's heart sank. "But I understand why you did back then - how life conspired against you, and you played the hand you were dealt. And I also understand how easily my life could have been different and I could have fallen to the Dark path. Never underestimate how proud I am that you could turn way and do what you now do, see what you have to see and act for others' good, not your own." Lupin picked up Snape's hand once more and pressed a kiss to his palm.

"Come to bed with me, Remus," said Snape, standing and holding out his hand. Lupin took his hand and Snape led them to the bedroom. There couldn't be more difference in Lupin's demeanour tonight from yesterday's domineering, forceful creature. Now, Lupin was subdued – fearful, even. Snape led Lupin to the bed and they sat side by side. Snape leaned forward to kiss Lupin but – ah – his eyes were so mournful. The look seemed to burn Snape with shame that he had been so self-absorbed last night.

"Please," said Snape softly. "I need you."

"I don't deserve you, Severus. I hurt you."

"I need you more than I can ever tell you." He cupped Lupin's face in his hands and Lupin rested against them.

"And even if it is true the curse makes you harsh with me sometimes, it is the curse, not you." Snape realised that had not been the best thing to say, although it was true, as Lupin flinched. Snape moved himself closer and slid one arm around Lupin's waist and the other carded Lupin's hair. He could feel the relaxation in Lupin's body to be touched so gently.

"You are the most kind, most considerate, most affectionate lover. How can you doubt it?" Snape said softly as he continued to stroke his hand through Lupin's hair. "There has never been anyone like you for me." Then Snape laid himself back and gently pulled Lupin over himself. "You know this."

"The moon wanes ..." whispered Lupin as the tips of their noses met.

"I know. But this is what I need, Remus."

It was what he needed, the soft and kind way that Lupin would make love to him, but he knew it was what Lupin needed too: to show his most expressive and gentle side, and to know that his gentleness was what Snape craved too.

Fingers softly played across Snape's cheek – the lightest of touches and drew down to his lips to be met with a kiss, Snape's black eyes never leaving Lupin's.

"It is?" There was trepidation in Lupin's voice, even though his finger gently drew down Snape's throat, firing the nerves in his neck.

"Yes, Remus," he said, his voice little more than a baritonal murmur, as gentle as he could make it, as gentle as the man to whom he now spoke. "More than anything."

oooOOOooo

When Snape had ensured the Hogsmeade trips had been cancelled, he hoped he had gone some way to reducing Malfoy's access to dangerous artefacts, although he still had not discovered how Malfoy had given the necklace to Miss Bell in the first place: he had not been in Hogsmeade that day to have Imperiused her. It troubled Snape that he had not been able to piece together the events of that day.

If anyone had told Snape at the start of this Saturday that Potter would be lauded as a hero once more, that would have been bad enough; to have Potter's purported prowess at Potions deemed responsible for that heroism would almost have been more than Snape could bear, had matters of greater import not preoccupied his mind.

As he understood it, Weasley had unwittingly taken a love potion for which Slughorn had made the antidote, then given Weasley a pick-me-up to follow the inevitable depressive effects of the antidote. The oak-matured mead had been poisoned, but it was Potter, not Slughorn, who had quickly administered a bezoar. Snape almost felt haunted by that bezoar. Still, he would tell Lupin when he got home and Lupin would treasure the information. That, at least, was some good news to take home at night. But first –

"Mr. Malfoy. Join me in my office, if you please."

Snape had entered the Slytherin common room silently, placing himself behind the settee where Malfoy sat before the boy was even aware of he was there. He couldn't deny the small thrill of pleasure to see the boy start at his unexpected presence.

Malfoy jumped up, paling and startled to have been taken by surprise. Malfoy's lip curled and Snape raised an eyebrow in return. The surly child tried to look imposing until Snape growled, "Now - Mr. Malfoy."

Snape followed Malfoy to his office, locking the door, and then pushed him into a chair, ignoring his outraged comments that Snape would even dare if his father were not imprisoned! Snape brought down one of the dusty jars from his top shelf and placed it with a thud in front of Malfoy.

"This is Essence of Rue which I shall shortly be taking to the hospital wing. You are a good Potions student. Why do we need Essence of Rue, Mr. Malfoy?"

"You're not the Potions Master now," sneered the boy.

"Do – not – play – with – me," hissed Snape. "For what do we need Essence of Rue?"

The boy flushed. "Herb-of-Grace," Malfoy muttered. "A strengthener for those who have been debilitated."

"By?" led Snape.

Malfoy jaw jutted out stubbornly.

"DEBILITATED BY?" shouted Snape.

"By poison! All right? Poison," the boy blurted.

"Poison administered via a fine oak-matured mead, intended as a present for the Headmaster, as I understand it," continued Snape silkily and took his chair on the other side of his desk. "Of course, anyone who knows Horace Slughorn would know he never parts with fine drink or food as gifts. Anyone who wishes to kill by stealth should research their method, don't you think, Draco? I could have told you this and avoided this unwelcome ... incident."

"There is no way I'm going to trust you with my plans! You'll just steal them, and I've got plenty of ideas ..."

Snape bolted from his chair and slammed his hands on the arms of the chair on either side of Malfoy, making him flinch from a blow that might at any moment fall.

"It was crass, Draco. You nearly killed Ronald Weasley ..."

"Well, that blood traitor would be no ..."

"Enough, you foolish child!" Snape bellowed. "It's bad enough that you must've already used one Unforgiveable on Miss Bell ..."

"No, I didn't curse Bell! Shows what you know!"

"Don't lie to me! And now poison! I don't know how you managed to do that but, at this rate, you will be discovered and out of this school! Do you understand me? "

"It doesn't matter what you think ..." the boy spat. Snape grabbed Malfoy's face harshly, in a manner he never would have contemplated before this year.

"How will your mother protect you from the Dark Lord's displeasure if you are expelled, idiot boy? I vowed to your mother! And I will keep that vow. There will be no trips to Hogsmeade for you to top up supplies for your far-fetched schemes and you will remain in the castle, do you understand me."

"I understand you, Professor! Third time's the charm," the boy returned, sneering once more – so very like his benighted father. "I expect to be successful next time, but when I've done my task – I'll make sure you're very sorry."

"You have already made me very sorry, Draco." Snape stood straight slowly, his jaw still clenched. "Get out of my sight."

ooOOOooo

"How many more concealed snares of Mr. Malfoy's await our unsuspecting residents, Severus?"

Snape dropped into a chair before Dumbledore's desk.

"He becomes more withdrawn. Each time I speak to him, there is more resentment and bitterness," said Snape, wearily.

"I cannot understand it. You were not responsible for Lucius's downfall. That was his own hubris."

"He is exactly what is to be expected of his breeding," said Snape, waving a hand contemptuously. "He cannot accept that others should have acceptance or favour based on merit. He believes he is entitled to it by birth."

"Are you still proud to have it?" asked Dumbledore with an amused smile.

"Of course not," snapped Snape, angry that Dumbledore had reminded Snape what he had been so very keen to achieve when he was Malfoy's age. He hated the parallels, no matter that they were true; no matter that Snape had been more a more adept acolyte for the Dark Lord than Draco Malfoy could ever be. He could only shudder in remembrance of it. Would he have been able to accomplish the murder of Dumbledore at sixteen? Of course not. But then, Dumbledore had not been in failing health either.

oooOOOooo

The Dark Lord's summonses were rarely confined to weekends now. Snape did not know if another Death Eater had supplied the Dark Lord's Acutor Potion for the last two months, but his behaviour was becoming more erratic and violent once more. His violence had always been unrestrained but now, it seemed to take twists and turns that even Snape no longer seemed to be able to anticipate.

Greyback had resumed his full moon attacks to try to Turn the children of those opposed to the Dark Lord. Snape had been unable to get the intended targets beforehand, nor had Greyback divulged where his lair was.

"Perhaps you'll do a better job of this Turning than you did with the Order's pet. He was one of yours, wasn't he?" Bellatrix sneered. "Your werewolves failed against him at the battle until I took care of him and his boyfriend had to heal him!"

"And who was this werewolf that bested you?" asked Snape disdainfully, now intrigued how much both Greyback and Bellatrix had noticed or remembered.

"Weren't no werewolf. Polyjuiced. Two of 'em – wizards Polyjuiced as werewolves," grunted Greyback.

"Would you be able to identify them if you smelt their stench once more?" Bellatrix demanded, fervour alight in her eyes. Snape's body gave away nothing, so deep was his Occlusion, but if he had slipped up in that way after all his and Lupin's precautions, there would be little he would be able to do to protect himself. He watched the werewolf closely.

"Nah," said Greyback. "Can't smell nuffin' through Polyjuice, just that there ain't no proper werewolf smell to 'em."

Snape's face was impassive, even behind his mask, but he felt relief in the small hitching breath he disguised quickly as a snort of derision.

"Wizards - fighting against their own kind with a feral pack of beasts?" hissed the Dark Lord to Snape, interpreting his snort as one of disgust equal to his own. "Once we have the Ministry, we will wipe that pack from the face of the Earth. And any other pack that has not joined our cause."

"Yes, my Lord," Greyback smirked.

And then the enmity between werewolf and wizard would become intractable, Snape thought. His immediate thought was that he should tell Lupin. No. Nor Dumbledore. No, because then Lupin would go on the road again. He'd done enough. More than his fair share. Snape knew to send him back to the shadows would damage Lupin so very deeply – perhaps, irreparably.

Snape's mind ran fast now - fast like the running of the wolves themselves. Then it struck him: he had a conduit. A conduit perfect for such news. Alphard. Yes. Snape would not allow Lupin to be sent to the packs with the news of what would happen when the Ministry fell. Snape himself would send the news to Alphard and use the running wolves to muster the Light packs against the forces of the Dark. And Snape would keep Lupin safe.

As Snape strode through the corridor away from the manorial hall after the meeting, he heard faint weeping from the study. Placing his hand against the door jamb, he spied through the partially open door. Narcissa was collapsed in the captain's chair at Lucius's desk. Snape could see the Cruciatus still chasing across her skin. He went to her and stroked her dishevelled blonde hair from her face.

"Narcissa?" he called softly. Her damp eyes opened, glassy with tears of pain.

"Why haven't you taken my potion?" he asked. He was brewing post-Cruciatus Potion in quart bottles now the Dark Lord tortured them all on a regular basis.

"It ... it was all I could do ... to get here," Narcissa gasped, her breathing laboured through pain. "No strength to ... Summon some."

"I don't supposed your blessed sister thought to help you before lording over us at the meeting," scowled Snape as he pulled some of the potion from his own cloak and helped Narcissa to sit up, tilting her head so she could drink. "Ah – sip - just sip, Narcissa."

Overbright eyes looked imploringly at him, all her previous haughty demeanour had long since dissipated with him. They had formed an alliance of sorts ever since she had rescued him on that first Christmas Day after the Dark Lord's return. It was difficult to credit how she had changed in his opinion from the old days of her complete belief in her superiority and in Lucius's preening pomposity. He doubted either would regain their former glory. Dumbledore thought Lucius would be grateful to be in Azkaban away from Voldemort's power. Looking at Narcissa, Snape thought that Dumbledore was probably right.

"She revels in it," Narcissa whispered. "The Malfoys' fall from grace." Her trembling hands still held Snape's even though she had taken the four drams he considered adequate. "It is punishment for Draco's continued failure. Goyle told the Dark Lord of the poison and its failure to reach Dumbledore."

"Narcissa, you must tell Draco, or let me. Perhaps it will encourage him to trust me ..."

"No, Severus!" she gasped desperately. "Please don't tell Draco. He might try something even more desperate. If ... if he is expelled ... the Dark Lord ... he will kill him."

"And what about you, Narcissa? What if he kills you before Draco succeeds? Tell him to co-operate with me ..."

"I have ... so many times, Severus," she said, her eyes desperately searching his, her hands wrapped in his cloak.

"How very touching. Is this a romance?" the Dark Lord sang at the doorway as the snake slid into the room, and Snape sprang away from Narcissa's side.

"No, my Lord, I ..."

"You know my rules, Severus. And yet you are helping her ... why?" The Dark Lord glided towards them, an insolent leer on his face. "Do you ... desire her perhaps? Hmm? Looking after Lucius's wife while he languishes in Azkaban?"

"No, my Lord, you know I do not ..." started Snape, startled that the thought could even occur to the Dark Lord.

"Liar!" the strident voice of Bellatrix called out from the door. "Of course he does! A filthy half-blood like him: he'd stoop that low. You should be ashamed of yourself, Cissy, letting him paw you like that."

"Bella, don't ..."

"Why else would you, of all my acolytes, disobey me?" the Dark Lord hissed at Snape cutting off Narcissa's plea to her sister, and then he looked at Bellatrix, his foul leer broadening to see her revulsion and Snape's clear distaste.

"Take her then! Right now."

Both the sisters and Snape issued dismayed protests, but Snape could see the Dark Lord found twisted humour in Bellatrix's disgust and his own knowledge that Snape had no such interest. It was his perverse punishment for them all.

"Do it, Severus," he hissed into Snape's face. "Or I shall make you." The yew wand turned in his hand and Snape saw the gleeful malice lighting the crimson eyes, even as Bellatrix almost wailed at the abomination.

"Please, my Lord," Snape tried one last time. "I did not mean any disrespect ..."

"Imperio!"

Briefly, Snape felt the familiar floating sensation and the untraceable happiness that accompanied the Dark Lord's almost irresistible Imperius Curse urging him to pin Narcissa to the floor, hike her robe and violate her like a common whore. He did not see Narcissa, her eyes wild with terror, backing away from him even as Bellatrix begged for her sister's pardon as Snape grasped Narcissa's fragile wrists forcefully and pushed her to the floor, deaf to her pleas to the Dark Lord for mercy.

NO! NO! I do not want this! his Occluded mind shrieked. Remus. My Remus. And even as he thought this, the circlet on his arm set his arm ablaze, and he threw off the curse with a loud shout, pushing Narcissa away from himself as he fought the urge to hold his upper arm in pain.

Gasping for breath, his eyes darted to meet the Dark Lord's eyes, widened with shock at the force of Snape's rejection of his Imperius.

"My Lord, forgive me ... I could never defile a pure-blood for sport." It was dangerous to capitalise on that which the Dark Lord took to be the contamination of his werewolf scars but there was more at stake than just sacrificing his and Narcissa's honour and well-being for the Dark Lord's twisted pleasure. There was his Bond.

The Dark Lord's leer slowly fell away. "Defile?" A thoughtful look replaced it. "Get out, Bellatrix!"

Bellatrix bowed quickly and fled, leaving Snape and Narcissa who had both fallen to their knees reflexively.

The Dark Lord reached out and held Narcissa's chin with his long, white fingers, almost as tenderly as a lover would.

"Yes," he said sibilantly. "You are right, Severus. We must ensure there is no co-mingling with those of pure-blood." He caressed her alabaster skin almost covetously. It did not speak to Snape of sexual desire at all. "Even ... disobedient blood." He pinched her face. She whimpered then bit her bottom lip. "The blood of the Blacks," the Dark Lord scowled.

"The fault is mine, my Lord," interceded Snape, feeling the Dark Lord's malice pulsating. "Narcissa did not ask for any potion ..." He had to take the blame – she had not yet recovered from the last bout of torture. If the Dark Lord applied it again, her nerves might never recover.

"And still you are right," the Dark Lord said with an unpleasant smile. "Your fault and your punishment."

Snape's mind retreated quickly and he Occluded as deeply as he could as the Dark Lord's magic charged and the white visage was split wide by his malevolent smile.

"CRUCIO!"

The Torture Curse hit him fully in a mighty burst that shattered his Occlusion with its unexpected severity and he screamed in pain as he was Levitated and then flung violently to the floor.

"But you are a good servant, Severus, to keep the purity." The Dark Lord stood over Snape as he trembled on the floor, barely able to breathe. "So there will be no blood."

The Dark Lord left the room, the monstrous snake slithering by his side, and Narcissa ran to the door, half-hiding herself so she could watch the Dark Lord and Nagini disappear from view. Then she ran to Snape's side, his own flask of Post-Cruciatus Potion snatched from the desk and now in her hand. She helped his head onto her lap and administered the potion to him just as he had to her only minutes ago.

Snape's rasping breath gradually eased, together with his tremors as she stroked his hair, almost maternally.

"Severus. You should not have defied him like that. You know it would have been easier just to have done it and got it over with," said Narcissa, miserably and with an air of defeat that made him wonder if ... no, he didn't want to think of it.

Snape gritted his teeth, his anger tempered by the pain that still ghosted across his body. How many times when he was young had he allowed it just to get it over with until he was able to fight back? He wanted to tell Narcissa to fight back. Then again, how could she if the Dark Lord treated her as no more than a diversion? There was no doubt, the Dark Lord's madness grew. But Snape would not allow himself to be used like that – never again! It would defile his Bond with Lupin. His body was not his own, any more than his soul. He realised that.

And that burn through his arm: what was that? His Bond responding to the threat and bringing him back from the Dark Lord's Imperius Curse? It must be. It was deep magic indeed, and he thanked Merlin for it.

As soon as he had been able to walk once more without Narcissa's assistance, he had Apparated to the flat and found Lupin pacing the floor by the door, looking frantic. Lupin grasped him as soon as he was through the door, hands feverishly touching his face, his arms and finally his hands.

"What happened? My arm burned!" He held Snape's hands, watching the last vestiges of the Curse still coursing across the skin. "Oh Severus," he breathed.

Snape let Lupin take his cloak and his robe and lead him to the settee, helping him to sit as he checked him over again, checking Snape had taken the right amount of Potion and then, breathing heavily still, Lupin busied himself in their small kitchen making tea for Snape.

Only once Snape had his hands wrapped tightly around a mug of steaming tea, reclining back on the settee, did Lupin seem to calm down, although still seated forward next to Snape, his face expectant.

Snape did not tell Lupin about the threat to the Light werewolf packs and nor would he tell Dumbledore. Lupin would not be sent out again, if Snape could prevent it. Instead, he told Lupin how the Dark Lord had tried to coerce Snape into raping Narcissa but how their Bond had fired, enabling his resistance to the Imperius Curse.

"I thought you said he didn't take part in that sort of perversion," said Lupin, caressing Snape's upper arm.

"He never has before to my knowledge." He took a large gulp of tea, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. "He becomes more unstable. More arbitrary. He didn't even do it to hurt me or Narcissa. He did it to torment Bellatrix because she found the notion of me with her sister repugnant. The mental torture it would be for Bellatrix would be far more – ah - interesting to the Dark Lord than any physical pain or discomfort Narcissa or I would feel."

"And your mental torture for raping a woman? Or hers?" demanded Lupin, clearly horrified.

"Probably not considered, but doubtless he would relish it if he understood."

Lupin dropped his head in his hands. "Dear God," he whispered. "What would I have done to you if it had been successful?"

The mug stopped on its way to Snape's mouth. That aspect simply had not occurred to him. Would Lupin have killed him for infidelity, even if coerced – as he had always said he would? Would the wolf in him have understood the distinction? As carefully as Snape could with unsteady hands, Snape placed his mug down and wrested Lupin's hands from his face.

"It doesn't matter. It wasn't successful." Suddenly, a knot of happiness took Snape's breath away. "Our Bond protected us."

"Old magic," murmured Lupin as he looked up into Snape's eyes, the beautiful blue suddenly lightening. "Like Albus's vow!"

Snape's brow furrowed briefly.

"Don't you recall!" cried Lupin happily. "His vow of celibacy couldn't be broken by magical coercion or potions because deep magic – soul magic - recognises intention. The deep magic in Albus's vow deflected the Thrall, and our Bond repulsed the Dark magic that would have severed it!" Lupin's smile was broad now, his eyes merry, revelling in the ways of magic, his keen and alert mind engaged. Snape felt that knot of happiness swell his chest again as his fingers played with the frayed shirt cuff of Lupin's hand that was holding his. Lupin pulled him into an embrace and Snape closed his eyes in the welcome warmth and safety of Lupin's arms.

His Lupin – the academic in his shabby suit, feeding his love of magic among the stacks of ancient scrolls and tomes in Oxford. Snape loved the image and all that it meant. He pressed himself closer with a hum of contentment. It meant that in the growing turmoil and in the knowledge of the deaths that had to come - he just might get to keep Lupin safe.

A/N: thanks for reviewing. It's really appreciated.
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You Will Not Kiss Me