Down

Author’s Note: This is a Prequel to my fic, Not Love, which should be read first. You can find it here: (http://adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/story.php?no=544171711)
If you choose not to read Not Love first, that’s cool, and this one should make sense on its own. But in that case, don’t complain to me about the ending of this one, okay? You were warned. Also, I realise that the continuity with Not Love isn’t perfect. So sue me.


~Down~

When I go, when I fall
When the pit opens and I hit
bottom, the sweetness,
the sickness,
will all come
Down.


Part 1 of 3:

“He’s a what?”

“Calm yourself now, Severus, there’s been no harm done here tonight.”

“No harm! I thought I was seeing things! It was really, truly, a- a- … My gods, how, pray tell, could you let a- a- him into this school?! He could have killed me!”

“You are not wrong, Severus – which is why you should not have been following him.”

“With all due respect, Headmaster, I do not believe I am the party to blame for this situation.”

“No, I did not say you were, but I might ask you what you hoped to accomplish by heading out onto the grounds tonight?”

The young man’s mouth clamped shut. There was no need to tell the Headmaster the exact reason he was so interested in the nocturnal whereabouts of a certain Gryffindor classmate. “I thought they were breaking rules, sir. Might I repeat my objection to that thing attending school with me? With all of us?!”

“Your objection is noted. The boys have been punished accordingly, and you are safe. That is all that matters. You will not question my authority regarding the students I admit to Hogwarts, and it is imperative that you keep what you saw tonight a secret, for the good of everyone involved. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Headmaster. But - ”

“Severus…”

“Sir, is it wise to keep such a thing a secret? Don’t the parents, the other students – don’t they have a right to know what he is, what’s running around this school?!”

“No, my boy, they do not have any such right. Until Remus is afforded the same rights as other wizards – the right to go to school where he pleases, the right to stable employment, the right to marry and have children; none of which are legal under our current Ministry administration – until that time, then no, in my opinion he is not obligated to disclose his condition to anyone.”

The seventeen-year-old boy in Dumbledore’s office grimaced and nodded his head reluctantly.

“You, Severus, are now one of very few people in the Wizarding World who is privy to Remus’s condition. Now I must ask you again: do you swear by the power of the Wizengamot and, more importantly, of this old man’s wand - ” he patted his robes and smiled - “not to reveal to anyone, under any circumstances, what you have learned here tonight? Severus! Are you listening? Kindly answer me.”

“Yes, sir, I swear it.”

“Good. Now off to bed with you. And might I suggest that since you and those boys seem utterly incapable of getting along, you all simply keep your distances from one another? I am quite frankly getting tired of these trips to my office by one or more of you.”

“Fine. Goodnight, sir.”

The young man exited through the great oak doors of the Headmaster’s chambers and slowly descended the circular marble staircase to the main corridor, his mind afire. In the name of all things holy, he thought.

A werewolf.


*********************************************


He lay in bed that night, with his deep emerald curtains shielding him from the other boys in his dungeon dormitory, and set about relearning all he had thought he’d known about Remus Lupin. A werewolf. Well. That explained why Potter and Black were interested in him – he wasn’t just a quiet, boring bookworm after all; he was like a superhero, a character from one of those Muggle comic books the half-blood Hufflepuffs used to pass around during fourth-year Herbology. He turned into a raging monster every month. He went to that Shack – secretly, through hidden passageways and tunnels, at night when nobody would be watching – and was chained up… then he’d transform, and thrash around… biting things, tearing furniture to shreds, howling like an animal… living as an animal…

And then in the morning, what would happen? He would revert back to his human form; his chestnut hair would return, his foggy grey eyes, his muscled arms – well, that certainly explained why the lad was in such good shape, despite not playing a single sport. Yes, in the morning he would awaken, possibly not remembering anything about what had happened the night before. Perhaps he would be naked… yes, it was virtually certain that he would be naked when he awoke…

There would be long, pale limbs scattered over the floorboards; would he be face-down? His vulnerable neck and spine bent, his arse uncovered, his face turned to the side and his hair mussed up. Or, maybe he would awaken on his back? A trace of stubble on his chin, scratch marks across his neck, his shoulders, his chest… lean stomach muscles leading down to… a thatch of hair the colour of brown sugar, strong hips and thighs, and –

Severus moaned softly and subconsciously as his thoughts drifted lower, lower, his mind drinking in the image of Remus Lupin nude and broken on the rough wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack, blood spattered around him and on him, splinters slicing his skin, hair tangled with sweat and tears. Severus reached for his own cock and found it rock hard. Firmly grasping it he began to pull rhythmically as his mind continued its exploration of Remus’s body.

What he would give, he thought suddenly, to change the situation tonight – to have Potter’s Quidditch practice run late so that he didn’t have time to warn Severus against seeking out the Shack. What he would give to have been there when Remus transformed, a safe distance away of course – a shadow of himself, floating above the battered old house, waiting for it to begin… to have watched that quiet, mild-mannered, studious young man change before his very eyes into a bloodthirsty beast; to have witnessed him thrashing and howling and moaning; to have seen him bite and tear at himself in the absence of prey.

Severus stroked himself faster, running his free hand over his stomach and thighs, then reaching backward and pushing a finger deep inside himself. He adjusted to his body\'s rhythm; his hand squeezing his cock, his penetrating finger finding and massaging his prostate, dreaming...

What he would give to have been there when Remus woke up in the morning, disoriented and disgusted with himself. Ashamed. “Well well well, Lupin,” Severus would have said, roving an appraising eye over the shattered body. “You’re really much more attractive as a bloodthirsty Dark Creature than as a human being. You might consider staying in that form more often.”

And Remus’s response - “Fuck you, Snape. I should have eaten you when I had the chance.”

Severus would have moved closer then, smiling coyly at his prey curled up on the floor. “Is that so?” he would have drawled. “Who says you’ve missed your chance?”

Then he would have grabbed Remus by the arm and hauled him to his knees; he would have ripped open his own trousers and freed his cock; he would have pushed Remus’s battered face into his groin, watched those swollen lips take his cock between them. He would have fucked that werewolf’s mouth so hard... yes...

Severus felt his balls begin to tighten as he imagined thrusting into Remus’s mouth, imagined the sweet warmth of those lips, imagined the wolf rearing its head again as Remus growled into his cock and ate up every inch of him, whole. He pushed hard on his prostate, squeezing his cock to impossible stiffness; then with a final cruel stroke, he came hard, muffling his guttural groan of release in a pillow.

Horrified with himself, he lay quietly for a long moment, willing his breathing to still. He swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut. A werewolf, he thought with disgust, staring at the blank ceiling. I’m hard for a fucking werewolf. He shook his head bitterly and rolled onto his side. It was bad enough being hard for a quiet, boring bookworm whose friends regularly humiliated you in front of the entire school – but then to find out that same do-gooder had a secret dark side? The sexual possibilities were endless.

He punched the pillow three times and then buried his head in it. A fucking werewolf.


*********************************************

“You fucking piece of shit, Sirius! Next Moon I’m chaining you up in that Shack and tearing you limb from fucking limb, you rotten, sodding, piece of useless fucking - ”

“Whoa! Moony, for Merlin’s sake, watch the sailor tongue there, yeah? It’s very unbecoming a gentleman such as yourself.” Sirius reclined lazily in the squashiest armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room and gazed up at Remus, who stood glowering over him.

“I am going to kill you, Padfoot! I don’t care how much you hate that guy, or anyone for that matter, do you understand – can your fucking pea brain possibly comprehend – that I could very easily, actually, have killed him? Is that what you wanted? A sentence in Azkaban for me – or worse, my balls in a trophy case at the Ministry, right next to my head? You have no idea how serious this is.” Remus threw up his hands and began pacing the room again. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you with my condition.”

Sirius rose angrily now. “Well, I can’t believe you’re so concerned about that greasy git Snivellus! It would have served him right if you’d eaten him! He’s a nosy little wanker, you know that. He deserved what he got.”

Remus just stared at Sirius for a long moment, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the common room.

“Moony. Moony! Come on, don’t do that! We’re not supposed to be out at night, Moony, you’ll get us in trouble…” Sirius called after him half-heartedly, but Remus was already gone.

He stormed across the corridor, down the marble staircase, and out the great oak front doors of the castle, not stopping until he reached the lake. He bent over, hands on his knees, gulping in the fresh air. Ever since he had discovered what Sirius had done, he hadn’t been able to breathe properly. The thought of what almost happened the night before made him choke. His pulse pounded, and he had to fight hard to take deep breaths and not let himself hyperventilate. Fucking bastard.

“If you don’t mind, Lupin,” a voice cut into his thoughts, “this lake has already been claimed by the non-werewolf insomniacs of this castle. You’ll have to find another one.”

Remus whirled around as his wolf eyes narrowed in the darkness. “Snape,” he muttered as they locked onto a form hunched under a nearby white poplar. “I don’t think I should be speaking with you right now.”

“Nor do I. That’s why I told you to fuck off.”

Remus sighed. “Fine.” He started back up the banks of the lake towards the castle.

There was a moment\'s silence - then the voice called out: \"Wait.\"

He turned and waited, as bidden, but nothing else was forthcoming. “What do you want, Snape? It’s cold out here, and considering I almost ate you last night, I’m not really in the mood for chit-chat. No offence.” He cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms.

“Lupin, I assure you I would rather mate with the queen of the Flobberworms than make chit-chat with you at any time. I was simply going to say that…”

“Yes?”

Severus took a deep breath. “I read something in the journal of the Apothecary’s Union last month. I didn’t really think about it at the time, but at any rate, a team from Britain and Germany are working on a potion that will make werewolves safe when they transform. It can’t stop the transformations altogether, but the wolf becomes harmless - it just goes to sleep for the night.”

Remus’s arms dropped to his sides as he gaped at Severus. “Why did you tell me that?” he asked quietly after a moment’s silence.

Severus shrugged. He didn’t know exactly why he’d said it; he just hadn’t wanted Remus to leave yet. “Just so you’re aware that contrary to popular belief, you may not in fact have to spend the next eight thousand full moons chained up in that Shack, wondering if tonight might be the night that Black and Potter succeed in using you as their personal hit creature.”

“Don’t start, Snape,” warned Remus.

Severus glared for a moment, then cleared his throat. “The article said they don’t know when the potion will be ready for trial, but they’re working on it. In case you didn’t know.” He turned his head back towards the lake. “All right, run along, now. Surely your little brotherhood of hooligans will be looking for you.”

Remus silently turned again to leave, then paused after a few steps. “Snape?” he asked tentatively.

“What?”

“I’m sorry my friends are such arseholes.”

A grunt. “Apology accepted.”

Remus smiled for the first time all day as he wandered back to the castle and upstairs to bed.


*********************************************

Ironically, in the months following the Prank – as Dumbledore had so daintily called it – Severus spent more time in Remus’s company than he ever had before. He hadn’t meant for that to happen, of course, and it had all started innocently enough – just two young men spending extra hours in the library studying for NEWTs. The two of them had always spent quite a bit of time there over the course of their Hogwarts careers, both, for the most part, simply looking for a quiet place away from their common rooms, where they could review in peace. They never sat together, and they never spoke. But both of them had always known the other was there.

After Sirius Black’s shocking attempt to have his best friend eat his own Slytherin nemesis, however, the two library-dwellers began to speak to each other more often.

“Potions through the Ages?” Severus sneered now, glancing up at the latest book Remus had carried over to join the stack of tomes on his table. “You are not actually studying from that piece of rubbish, are you?”

Remus shot him a look. “You see me carrying the book, Snape. You see me placing said book in front of the others that belong to me. I think it would indeed be safe to assume in this situation that yes, I am in fact studying from it.”

“Then you will fail your Potions NEWT.” Severus shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He lowered his head again to pore over the illustration of the wrist motion required when stirring the tricky Abicio potion quarter-counter-clockwise.

Remus sighed and cocked his head. “Ah, Snape,” he drawled. “Have I told you yet today how much I enjoy these moments we have together?”

Severus snorted, his head down.

“Fine,” said Remus with exasperation. “Tell me, oh great Potions genius: how, precisely, will studying from Potions through the Ages result in my NEWT failure?”

Severus lifted his quill and began scribbling some notes from the volume he was reading. He let several seconds go by before he finished his sentence with a flourish, placed the quill back on the table, and looked up at Remus. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“What’s this?” he asked innocently. “Remus Lupin, asking me for studying advice? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Remus glared at him for a moment, then looked away as the beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. He shook his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Mmm.” Severus nodded, a hint of flirtation in his voice. “So I’ve been told – many, many times.”

Remus laughed outright at that, earning them both a look of consternation from Madam Pince across the room. “Oh yeah? And who’s been telling you that – the jar of skinned shrivelfigs you cuddle into your pillow at night?”

Severus smirked, then picked up his quill again and bent over his parchment. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he whispered, his heart suddenly beating faster. He scrawled a few more sentences, then chanced a peek at Remus again. The other young man was watching him intently, with an unreadable look in his eyes.

Their gazes locked for a brief moment and Severus felt a sudden jolt in his groin. He looked away quickly, disgusted with himself. I will not get hard for the werewolf, he told himself for what seemed like the thousandth time that semester. He cleared his throat, steadied his nerves, and spoke again.

“That book was published in 1902,” he began, nodding towards the volume in Remus’s hand. “I suppose some of the formulas are still useful, but a few of them have since been either proven dead wrong, or improved so drastically as to make those versions obsolete. Here.” He rummaged through the pile in front of him and pulled out a thick, leather-bound volume. “Use this one instead.”

He passed it to Remus, who immediately thumbed to the title page. “Global Potions Possibilities, Revised Edition?” he asked. “Snape, I’m sort of on a time constraint here; I barely have time to learn all the potions in Britain, nevermind Africa and South America. Not to mention…” He continued flipping through the pages, his eyes widening. “Fuck, Snape, this has all sorts of Dark Potions in it! I can’t use these on my NEWTs – and neither can you.” He shut the book and looked back at his companion. Something in his eyes betrayed a keen curiosity, however.

“Oh honestly, Lupin, who cares about NEWTs? Are they really going to dictate your life course? Is whether or not you get your dream job someday really going to be contingent on how well you do on your Potions NEWT?”

Remus flushed slightly and looked away. “Fuck you, Snape,” he said quietly.

Severus was momentarily taken aback, then repeated in his head what he’d just said. Oh, bloody hell. “That’s not- that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “I just meant, for all of us, we’re all going to be doing different things in life, needing skills… I just meant that what you could learn in that book would be far more useful for you than anything you could learn studying from the Ministry’s NEWT-level Potions guide.”

Remus raised his eyes again, meeting Severus’s black gaze with his own focused grey one. That hint of curiosity was back, and it did not escape Severus’s attention.

“Like what?” he began cautiously. “That werewolf potion you mentioned? Is that a Dark Potion I should learn about?”

Severus nodded slowly. “The Wolfsbane, yes, that’s one place to start, although I don’t know if that would be categorised as a ‘Dark’ Potion. You know what really irritates me,” he said, “is this strict dichotomy between ‘Dark’ and ‘everything else.’ It’s got to be more fluid than that – and they really should be teaching us everything that’s out there.” He gestured towards the book he’d given to Remus. “You won’t believe how many amazing herbs the East African wizards have discovered; they’re literally decades ahead of Britain in potion-brewing innovations, but the Ministry says their work is ‘foreign’ and ‘Dark,’ so we’re not allowed to learn about it.”

He furrowed his brow angrily, tearing his eyes from Remus and staring off down a nearby row of books. “The war has already started, you know. Dumbledore is not doing any of us any favours by shielding us from Dark Magic, making sure we never learn it so that we can never protect ourselves from it.”

He shook himself out of his reverie and glanced back at Remus, who had been watching him intently. “You more than anyone should be eager to learn some so-called ‘Dark’ Potions and Magic, Lupin,” he said gruffly. “You’ll be like an injured fawn in a hunter’s bloody trap, leaving Hogwarts with no knowledge of the Dark Arts.”

“I appreciate your concern, Snape, but my Defence Against the Dark Arts grades are just fine, thank you very much.” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

“Oh?” Snape arched an eyebrow. “Then I assume you know about the Werewolf Societies?”

Remus shifted in his chair. “The what?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Dumbledore really is an overprotective old git, isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. Severus sighed and reached into his pile of books again. He pulled open a slim volume with a torn cover and flipped through the pages. “Ah, here it is.” He handed the book to Remus.

Scanning the page quickly, the other young man’s brow creased as his breath quickened. “Among the more secretive and dangerous of the Wizarding World’s Dark Creature sects are the Werewolf Societies, sometimes also referred to as Werewolf Packs,” he read aloud. “Scattered throughout northern Europe, these groups prey mostly on young, unemployed, male werewolves with no other prospects, and lure them into the group with promises of food, shelter, and brotherhood. Once initiated, the recruit will be sent on a variety of missions for the group. Some Packs are highly organised and politically motivated, focusing on conducting terrorist attacks intended to bring attention to the plight of the werewolf in modern society, while others are simply gangs of common criminals, who will force the recruit into a life of hooliganism.”

He chuckled nervously. “Oh, come on, Snape! I may be blessed with some slight degree of natural idealism, but I like to think I’m not quite as impressionistic and naïve as to join a werewolf gang after graduation in exchange for a hot meal!”

Severus was silent. “Mmm,” he finally murmured. “Then tell me, Lupin, what great plans do you have for after graduation?” His eyes glittered, and Remus suddenly felt short of breath.

“I- I thought I’d- wait!” He changed his mind and glared at Severus. “If you’re trying to trick me into admitting I have no prospects for employment after graduation and will be easy prey for your little Dark Creature gangs, I won’t do it.”

Severus smiled gently. “You just did,” he pointed out.

Remus snorted. “You’re quite a piece of work, Snape, you know that? Quite the mastermind. So tell me.” He narrowed his eyes. “What about your secret society, hmm? You think the rest of us don’t know that Voldemort has been recruiting Slytherin seventh-years left, right, and centre these days? You and your Dark Arts fetish – you really want to use your skills to help that monster grab power?” He was whispering furiously, earning more angry looks from the librarian and their fellow students.

“The Dark Lord is no different than any other talented, ambitious wizard that has come to power through the ages in our world,” replied Severus calmly.

“The Dark Lord??” Remus hissed. “You’re already one of them, aren’t you?!”

Severus sighed and ran his hands through his long black hair, pausing to clasp them behind his neck. “No, Lupin,” he said at last. “I’m not. Not yet, at least.”

The truth was that he simply hadn’t yet decided what to do about the Lord Voldemort recruiting mission that had been sweeping through Slytherin House that year. He had to admit that the prospect was appealing. Voldemort had the right idea, after all, about wizard pride and autonomous power, about severing all this ridiculous dependence the Ministry maintained on Muggle government and social institutions. Why should they have to hide their world from the Muggles?

Voldemort had a plan to ensure that the Wizarding World would not remain in the hands of incompetent Ministry bureaucrats, that it should be free from Muggle restraints to pursue its own path – none of this nonsense about using old Muggle boots to make Portkeys, or sneaking into Muggle forests to cut yew trees for wands, or spending millions of Galleons on Charms training for wizards to constantly cast Concealment Charms on places like Hogwarts, or the Quidditch stadiums, or St. Mungo’s, or even the Ministry itself. Forced literally underground! It was embarrassing, that’s what it was. Voldemort had a plan to change all that, to make sure the Muggles knew that wizards were here to stay, and that they would not hide themselves anymore.

Dumbledore and the Minister, always kowtowing to the Muggles – it was shameful! Things were getting violent, Severus knew that, but he reasoned that violence might be necessary, might be condoned, in order to achieve their goals. Moreover, no one but Voldemort had offered him the chance to use his vast knowledge of exotic potions. It was thrilling, to think that he could have his own laboratory, set up to his own specifications, with his own supply of any ingredients he wished… all in return for helping to develop British versions of astonishing potions long since available in other parts of the world – potions that could heal, potions that could destroy, potions that could change the face of the Wizarding World as he knew it.

The possibilities were endless, because Voldemort had promised him that no cap would be put on knowledge after he took power. Dumbledore and the Ministry – always trying to ration ingredients, restrict research, stifle innovation. With Voldemort, a new world would dawn, one fuelled by experimentation and progress and renewed vigour for life and science. It all excited Severus very much.

But he had not committed yet. There were still unknown variables. Dumbledore had been pushing hard to convince the wavering Slytherins to accept positions in his Order of the Phoenix, promising change through cooperation, not through war. And then there were the rumours of unexplained deaths in the Muggle news... a few houses burned to the ground… whispers that Voldemort’s plan for wizard autonomy involved Muggle genocide. Well, if they were true, Severus wanted no part of that business – he could not condone violence that extreme. He still needed to look into it, however; surely it was simply propaganda tactics originating with the Ministry, to dissuade people from joining?

He looked up from his thoughts to find Remus still watching him from the neighbouring table.

“Not yet?” Remus repeated, smirking. “But I’m right. You will be joining. And then, in a few years, it will be me, pointing out to you – maybe through the bars of your cell in Azkaban, by the way – a passage from the latest social history of Wizarding Britain on the secret society of Lord Voldemort, recruiting disaffected young Slytherin Potions students who thought they were unappreciated geniuses, joining the Dark side after being promised food, shelter, and their own Dark Arts laboratory.” He sat back and appraised Severus triumphantly. “Pot. Kettle. Black,” he concluded.

Severus shrugged. “Perhaps.” He was suddenly very aware that Remus’s tie was loosened and his collar unbuttoned. A nasty scratch mark began at his collarbone and trailed away under his shirt; Severus followed it with his eyes, licking his lips. His tongue wanted to trace that scar, taste Remus’s skin, see where it led, where the mark ended. See how far down it went… down… to his ridged stomach… lower…

He quickly averted his eyes. Damn it! They were talking about politics and war and the rise of the Dark Lord, and all Severus could think about was sucking Remus’s cock? It was disgusting; he was furious with himself. That fucking werewolf! He hadn’t been able to think about the man in the same way since discovering his condition. Something about it was just so arousing; all he had to do was visualise Remus thrashing around on the floor of the Shack like an animal, and Severus got so hard he could barely move.

Add to that physical attraction their thought-provoking library conversations over the past few months, about schoolwork, about ideas, about politics and the world around them, and Severus had to sullenly admit that he was hooked on the sodding Gryffindor. Remus wasn’t like Potter and Black, or even Pettigrew. He was… different. Mysterious. Intellectual. Exciting. Moaning and writhing, limbs cracking, sweat soaking his chest, blood dripping from his lips, hard wolf cock lengthening, widening…

“Fuck, Snape, now you’re not even listening to me.”

Severus jumped in his chair. “What?” he said shortly.

Remus chuckled and shook his head. “Nevermind,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We should probably just agree to disagree on this one, anyway. Look, I better get back to the dorm. Can I borrow this for a few days?” He held up Global Potions Possibilities.

“What? Yeah, of course, yes. That would be fine. I’ll need it back, though. Maybe, what about, Thursday?”

“Same time, same place?” Remus grinned.

“Yes, fine.”

“All right, see you, Snape. And you might want to work on that attention span of yours, yeah? Wouldn’t want you to spin off into a daydream in the middle of NEWTs.” He winked at Severus and packed up his books.

Severus watched Remus’s retreating back as he headed for the door, then sat back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.


*********************************************


Severus was sitting under a tree by the shores of the lake when he heard footsteps behind him and the sound of an irritatingly familiar polished drawl.

“I daresay, Severus, pure-blood wizards do not normally go sitting around in grass, getting grubby green stains all over their robes. Would it be too much trouble for you to study in a more respectable locale?”

Severus squeezed his eyes shut and raised his book higher over his nose. “Lucius,” he sneered. “Always a pleasure.”

“Yes, quite.” Lucius Malfoy sighed dramatically as he searched around for a place to sit. He finally spotted a rock some metres away and perched himself on its smooth surface, a look of elegant disdain on his face.

“What can I do for you, old friend?” Severus finally put his book down and looked the other man squarely in the eye. “Come back to check up on your old stomping grounds?”

“What? Oh, gracious no! You would have to pay me a right fortune to return to this hellhole after my seven years are long since complete. But, oh wait! That’s right, somebody is…” He smirked at Severus and smoothed down his robes. “Now, dear boy, I don’t have all day to sit around on this, what is this? A grassy knoll?” He sniffed disapprovingly. “Well, regardless. I have things to do today, but I’ve been sent to have a little chat with you. The Dark Lord is getting impatient, you know.”

Severus stretched his long legs out in front of him and watched Lucius carefully. “Is that so.”

“Don’t use that insolent tone with me,” snapped Lucius. “The Dark Lord commands respect and obedience from all his followers.”

“First of all, I am not his follower, yet, and second of all, from what I hear, he also requires them to wander into Muggle villages on a regular basis and cast Incendio on the nearest thatched roof!” Severus turned angrily towards the lake. He had done a bit more research into those rumours, and considering that the Muggle newspapers he’d found had been full of stories of strange arson attacks in southern Scotland over the past few months, he’d decided it wasn’t Ministry propaganda after all, and that maybe Voldemort had many more detestable tricks up his sleeve in his quest for wizard autonomy.

The scorn in his voice did not go unnoticed by his visitor, who immediately changed tacks and adopted his silkiest drawl. “Severus, come now! You don’t really feel sorry for those Muggle peasants, do you? Those were the villages that most heavily persecuted our kind in previous centuries! They had it coming, quite frankly, as they are no friends to Wizardkind.”

“I’m not fighting a war against innocent people,” said Severus firmly.

“Oh, my dear boy, is that what you think he wants you to do?” Lucius chuckled softly. “No, no, no! Listen, those were just a couple of strong-arm tactics, to get their attention. There won’t be any more of that. The real focus now, you see, is on developing - ” he lowered his voice and glanced around for eavesdroppers - “a potion-based resistance to the Unforgivables.”

Severus’s eyes widened. “What?!” he choked. “That’s impossible!” His mind started racing. “I mean, chemically, it simply isn’t possible to alter the cellular level of - ”

“Anything is possible with the Dark Lord, Severus,” Lucius stressed. “Think what exciting research that would be for you: solving a chemical problem that no Potions Master in the world has succeeded in solving! The Dark Lord has complete faith in you; in fact, you are the only person he wants for the job. He sent me here to persuade you to accept his offer.” He jangled some coins in his pocket tauntingly. “And trust me, he can be very persuasive.”

Severus’s mind reeled. Could it be done? He immediately started mentally flipping through his books. There was a case in Japan some years ago where an anti-Imperius potion was attempted… he couldn’t recall what had gone wrong… but he was sure he could get it right, if given the right conditions, with free rein over a laboratory and assistants…

He shook his head. No. He’d already made up his mind. He could not, in good conscience, accept Voldemort’s abominable lack of morality in return for his own research lab. Remus had been right; he would be no better than a naive recruit to the Werewolf Packs if he did.

Remus.

If he was honest with himself, he would admit that the dratted werewolf had also played a role in his recent decision not to accept Voldemort’s offer. They had talked about it a few more times, after that initial conversation, and Severus had felt himself opening up to the other young man. Remus hadn’t judged him; he had simply offered a contrary point of view that was well thought out and intelligently articulated.

It’s not just about good versus evil, Remus had said. It’s about choosing the road less travelled by because it’s the right thing to do. I know your entire House has gone to Voldemort, he’d said. I know you feel the pressure, and I know Voldemort’s theoretical arguments are alluring. Of course we all want wizard autonomy! But think about how he plans to achieve it – it’s through Muggle genocide, and you know it. His claims to the contrary are just smoke-screens. Dumbledore advocates an international confederacy of wizards that cooperates with the Muggles when necessary, but will never cede our autonomy to them – it’s the best path towards progressive Wizarding government, Snape. Come on, you’re a clever bloke, surely you must understand that.

Severus would always argue the opposite position in return, partly because he believed it, but mostly because he had come to rather enjoy the makeshift debate club he and Remus had accidentally begun. Oh honestly, Lupin, he\'d replied, rolling his eyes. An international confederacy of wizards? It’s madness; it would never work. You might recall that the Muggles tried that after… what was that last war of theirs? Well, at any rate, I’ve read about it, and they had the same idealistic naiveté about the potential for an international governing body – well, it’s ridiculous. Power remains concentrated in the hands of the few who have the economic might to influence decisions.

And Remus’s response – the young man really was remarkably well-read; it was difficult for anyone his age to keep up with Severus’s cache of knowledge, but he found that Remus more than held his own, and even taught Severus a thing or two, which the latter only grudgingly admitted – Snape, you’re not seeing the forest for the trees on this one, all right? If you’ve read about that Muggle war, you must have read about what happened to lead to their ‘United Nations.’ It was abominable, Snape – one group of Muggles systematically killing another, on what amounted to a whim… this is what Voldemort wants to replicate! You’re a decent sort, Snape, somewhere inside those stuffy, high-collared robes of yours, I know you have a heart and a conscience – you can’t get mixed up with this, you just can’t.

One day close to NEWTs, Remus had arrived in the library with a particularly triumphant grin on his face. He’d dug in his bag and produced a tattered old tome that looked about four hundred years old. Here, Snape, he’d said. Have a look at this, and then come back here and tell me that Voldemort’s authoritarian approach to government is still the best path to wizard autonomy.

Severus had raised a sceptical eyebrow to the other young man, but had taken the volume and flipped it open to humour him. Two Treatises on Government, he’d read on the title page. Oh, please. Lupin, he’d drawled, a smile playing at his lips, getting hard over dead Muggle political philosophers is only proving my point. We should not have to live by their rules.

Just read it, Snape, Remus had insisted. “Wherever Law ends, Tyranny begins,” that’s what Locke says. He’d grabbed the book back out of Severus’s hands then and flipped it open, scanning quickly through the pages. Look here, he’d said, pointing out a passage.

Severus couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the genuine excitement on the face of his new intellectual sparring partner – that look that only came from the discovery of a new idea, of new thoughts and arguments and theories about an issue one cared passionately about. He’d recognised that pure joy in himself in the past, reading about a new potion-brewing possibility, or mastering a particularly difficult hex. He and Remus were alarmingly alike, if he let himself pause to think about it.

Government should rule by popular consent, Snape, this is Locke’s position, and it’s held for hundreds of years, Remus had continued, grinning as his finger raced to follow the text across the page. And the people should never blindly accept the opinions of those in power – tyranny must be stamped out through popular revolt.

Precisely, Lupin, Severus had answered, leaning back casually in his chair. Voldemort promises to rebel against the tyranny of the Ministry.

No, no, Snape, you don’t get it! It’s exactly the opposite of what Voldemort wants! Voldemort is basically advocating a return to the old Muggle Divine Right of Kings; he thinks Slytherin blood – or ‘pure’ blood in general – is enough to justify his power grab. He has no room for rule of law, or for the consent of the people, or for government accountability to the people who put it in power in the first place…

Snape had risen then and strolled over to a little-used section of the library stacks, casting a satisfied glance back at Remus, whose eyes were following him with great curiosity. He’d run a finger across several dusty old volumes before finally landing on what he’d been looking for. He plucked it off the shelf and brought it back to his table, dropping it dramatically before Remus.

If you’re such an expert on Locke, Lupin, he’d snarled with satisfaction, then surely you’re also familiar with Machiavelli?

Remus had slumped back in his chair and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Oh please, Snape. “We have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed” – that Machiavelli? He had gazed evenly at Severus then, sparking a jolt in the latter’s groin.

Well, Merlin’s battered brain cells, Severus had thought. His continuous efforts to stump Remus on some intellectual point or other had almost always failed. It didn’t stop him from trying, of course, but it did underline his constant sense of frustration, mixed with pleasant surprise, whenever Remus had risen to meet his challenges.

Severus had picked up the copy of The Prince he’d dropped in front of Remus, and had thumbed through the pages. This is what Voldemort argues, he’d said. None of Locke’s bollocks about rule of law – the Prince does not need to answer to anyone. Ethics is separate from politics, Lupin, and it is better for a ruler to be feared than to be loved. Dumbledore’s warm and fuzzy approach will not help any of us in the long run; we need a strong leader who is not merciful, who is not afraid to use cruelty when necessary, in order to achieve and maintain stability and power – that is what Voldemort will give the Wizarding World.

But that’s authoritarianism, Snape! And it leaves no room for the dissatisfied among the population to rebel – which Locke says in a free society must be their right! Remus had raised his chin at Severus, waiting for the other young man’s next shot.

A society full of rebellion – that’s how you propose to achieve stability? Severus had responded. Excellent idea, Lupin, really thinking that one through, your beloved John Locke is there. It would be anarchy.

You’re arguing in circles, Snape, Remus had concluded, chuckling. Anarchy would only occur in the absence of rule of law, in the absence of democratic governing institutions! Which is precisely what Machiavelli – and Voldemort, by the way – propose. Look, where is it… He’d snatched The Prince back from Severus, flipped to a later chapter and began to read aloud. “You must know there are two ways of contesting, the one by the law, the other by force; the first method is proper to men, the second to beasts.” He’d laid the book down on the table. There you have it: men rule by law, beasts rule by force. So, you want to live in some savage world governed by beastly aggression?

And in his coup de grâce, Severus had calmly picked up the same book, found the passage Remus had been quoting, and finished the sentence his opponent had let go unheard: “… but the first is frequently not sufficient, it is necessary to have recourse to the second…” He’d glanced up at Remus and smirked before continuing. “…Therefore it is necessary for a prince to understand how to avail himself of the beast and the man.”

Their debate had continued for hours after that, and for days and weeks beyond that, even; long after they’d worn themselves out on Locke and Machiavelli, Hobbes and Rousseau, they had continued to meet up, challenging each other to discussions on a wide variety of topics.

Long hours in the library, and sometimes down by the lake, talking about politics and war and morality with Remus… Severus had to admit that it had been among his happiest moments at Hogwarts. Remus engaged him, treated him as an equal, and like Severus, he indeed seemed to truly enjoy their sparring matches. And oh gods, the way Remus looked at him, with… was it admiration? Respect? Lust? Severus shook his head.

He didn’t know for certain, but he felt instinctively that something was developing between them, something beyond meaningful conversations. He would rather die than make a move; if Potter and Black found out, they would certainly ensure Remus never came within a hundred metres of him ever again. But graduation was approaching… perhaps then, after they were out of this fishbowl, maybe they could continue their conversations… continue their explorations of each other’s minds… moving on to each other’s bodies… dare he hope?

The idea of Remus quoting Muggle philosophers to him while lounging naked in bed after a particularly rousing session of animalistic sex… yes, this was Severus’s latest nightly dream. It wouldn’t be anarchy, Snape, just the opposite… ooh, yes, right there, oh gods… what was I saying? Right- there are legitimate and illegitimate civil governments – ah, ah, that’s nice, oh oh oh, so good… Snape, you’re making me lose my train of– oh holy fuck, don’t stop, oh yes, fuck me Snape, fuck me fuck me fuck me…

Severus gulped. He could swear that he wasn’t imagining things, that Remus felt the same way he did. Why else would he spend so much time with a greasy Slytherin that his friends all hated? Yes, in a few weeks, after they were all out of this place, he would get in touch with Remus and propose a proper rendezvous. The very thought of finally getting to taste the werewolf sent a shudder through him, pulsing in his cock and filling his every pore. Oh, how I will fuck you, my Dark, wild creature, he thought. Long and hard and deep, until you scream my name. He steadied his breathing and willed his erection away. You just wait.

“Severus. Are you listening?”

He looked up at Lucius, having completely forgotten that the other man was there. “What?”

Lucius glared at him in irritation. “When shall I tell the Dark Lord to expect an introduction?”

Severus swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, friend, but I just can’t.”

Lucius let out a huff of annoyance, pulling a money bag out of his pocket and holding it up in front of his young recruit. “See this, Severus?” he seethed. “This is just a fraction of what the Dark Lord is prepared to give you if you join. Later, if you cooperate, it will be ten thousand Galleons. All for you.”

Severus’s jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I can. I am. The Dark Lord covets your skills greatly, old boy. Don’t let him down.” He threw the bag at Severus’s feet and chuckled. “Gather your things, Severus. I’ll be back to collect you after your NEWTs.”

In another second he was striding back up the hill to the castle gates, and had Disapparated from Hogwarts a moment later.

Severus sat staring at the bag, his mind reeling. No, he told himself firmly, stowing it in his pocket. Think of Remus, think how disappointed he would be. It was true that he had enjoyed their debates about Severus’s future, but in the end, he knew that Remus was right. Voldemort was a dangerous man, and the price for getting mixed up with him would certainly be higher than Severus was able to pay – much higher than that ten thousand Galleons. He gazed out at the lake and made up his mind once and for all, to join the Order and fight with Remus. He nodded silently to himself and rose, brushing the grass from his robes, then he set off for the castle to tell his classmate of his decision.


To be continued…

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Author’s Notes:

1. Dumbledore’s comment at the beginning about werewolf civil rights is inspired by Buttercup’s wonderful fic on the subject, Outcasts: (http://adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/story.php?no=12504).

2. All quotations cited during Remus and Severus’s debate about Locke versus Machiavelli are real. Page numbers available to nerds upon request.