Intellectual Curiosity Meets Irrational Desires
Date: Thursday, 19 October
Time: Very late evening
Place: Severus' private rooms at Hogwarts
Characters Involved: Severus Snape
Rating: G
It was late. He had confiscated dozens of those blasted 'Day Dream Potions' since the start of term. The vast majority of them, of course, had gone right down the toilet where they belonged.
This one, he had saved.
For weeks.
He sat alone in the quiet solitude of his personal chambers, contemplating the gaudy vial with the name of its subject emblazoned across the label.
Remus Lupin.
Severus could not even remember the last time he had willingly consumed any potion not of his own concoction. The idea that he was seriously contemplating such a material step, now, spoke volumes of the turmoil of his psyche and, frankly, he was tired of it. He was not a man to do anything by halves, once he set his mind to a task. However, unspeakably poor decisions in his past had made him exceedingly cautious before choosing a course of action, hence his present state of self-reflection and turmoil.
First, it was necessary to determine how he had gotten himself to this ridiculous place to begin with. When had it begun? Certainly not when Lupin had decked him in their first meeting after Albus' death. Not that Severus hadn't deserved it, of course. Still, having his jaw dislocated and a couple of teeth loosened was not remotely conducive to developing inclinations toward the insufferable beast. Granted, they had come to a reasonable working relationship after the meeting, but that was more because Lupin wanted to be assured of Potter's victory and safe survival of the war, rather than anything personal toward him.
Three years of the war had not done it - though Lupin had been his only real lifeline in that hell. As Severus had told the werewolf time and time again, if not for those brief meetings for exchange of information - the fleeting reminders there was a world outside the innermost circles of the Death Eaters, that he had a purpose beyond that which the Dark Lord commanded of him - he might cheerfully have gone mad. The resultant saving of his sanity had earned Lupin a considerable portion of Severus' respect and more than enough of a sense of obligation to make providing lodgings for Lupin's pack after the war seem the only logical thing to do.
Had it been, though? Was there attraction, even then, of which he had been unaware? Could his sense of obligation really justify the expense and trouble he had gone to in magically enlarging the interior of the house to accommodate half a dozen lycanthropes? Somehow, what had seemed logically very sound then, now had more holes than expensive Swiss cheese!
What was it, which had driven him to acknowledge Lupin's birthday only a few days after the pack's arrival to Spinner's End? Severus was not one to celebrate such childish traditions, beyond being excessively indulgent of Draco, of course. Yet, he had baked the blasted (admittedly very austere) cake and given Lupin a copy of one of his few photographs of Lily at her wedding. There was no real 'obligation' which could have made him do that had he not wanted to do it.
He could certainly still remember, with vivid clarity, the disturbance of his thoughts when he found the werewolf, half naked and revealing injuries Severus had not known about, passed out on the sitting room sofa the morning after the first full moon at the house. Why had Lupin's shirtless state disturbed him so much? Moreover, why had he deliberately picked a fight with Lupin over the werewolf's lack of trust in him at the time and why the bloody hell had Lupin's trust mattered so much, anyway?
He could still recollect the feel of Remus' skin as he had all but bodily carried the werewolf up to his bed to finish recovering from the transformation. Just the memory made his blood heat and his heart race.
It was now highly suspicious he had so readily agreed to add to his already substantial brewing work-load at nothing more than Lupin's request. He was not such a dunderhead as to be at all confused as to the identity of the 'hypothetical individual' they were discussing and all his normal inclinations would have been to let Harry Potter suffer interminably, and with relish. Yet, a couched request from Remus Lupin and Severus had readily supplied the potions for the boy's ailment.
Without ever a drop of displayed gratitude from the insolent Potter, of course!
What had made him agree??
Perhaps it was the same motivation which caused Lupin to agree to teach at Hogwarts with Severus' coaxing. The werewolf showed every sign of refusing the offered position, even though Severus knew he wanted it. Severus had thought himself motivated by the selfish desire to provide himself with one guaranteed 'ally' while at the school, yet now he wasn't so sure.
Everything seemed suspect in light of this pathetic attraction to the man! Just because his own acknowledgment of the 'attraction' was relatively new-found, didn't seem to mean it was actually new in its existence!
He continued to stare blankly at the potion bottle on his desk, as he prodded at the various recollections concerning Lupin. The idea that he, who so hated being manipulated, could have been this manipulated by his own psyche for over six months was almost unbearable.
Was there something more than Gryffindor stubbornness and his own pathetic desperation to have someone on his 'side', which seemed to cause them to repeatedly seek each other for conversation and reassurances when events in the world felt overwhelming? There was no point in denying he felt himself tremendously refreshed and somehow rejuvenated after those various interactions, whether they were accidental meetings because they happened to be in the same room of the house at the same time, or whether one of them had deliberately sought the other for a few moments of self-indulgent, pointless whinging.
Wasn't it odd that Remus Lupin was one of the few people - and certainly the only person still living - with whom Severus could let down his 'guard' enough to engage in the occasional whinge to begin with? Shouldn't he have considered that a 'warning sign' and created some distance between them ages ago? It would have been his normal inclination with anyone else, to keep them at arm's length, or more. Why was Remus Lupin different?
Still, he would never have imagined himself to come to a place, even months later, where he would have willingly played 'Lily's game' with any other human being, let alone Lupin. 'Tell me something true' had been the rather unimaginative name of her invented 'game', but it had been one of the few ways Lily had been able to pry what she called 'interesting tidbits' from him.
Severus was a little uncomfortable with the recollection of his revelations during the 'game' with Lupin, yet he knew Remus would never use the information against him in any way.
When had Remus earned that much of his jealously guarded trust?
And when the bloody hell had he so slipped that the insufferable werewolf was sometimes 'Remus' in his thoughts!?
Sitting here in quiet solitude, he could vividly remember the scent of Lupin's sheets on the occasion he had woken in Lupin's BED. Never mind that it had been his own idiocy which had driven him to such a degree of exhaustion he had utterly passed out in his potions lab. He knew better than to push himself so far with endurance potions and strengthening solutions as to not sleep for days - the resultant crash had been inevitable.
Waking in Lupin's bed had not.
The experience, though distressing at the time, was now remembered with considerable pleasure. No one had ever taken care of him like that before. Yet why had the werewolf taken it upon himself to tend to Severus in his moment of self-induced weakness?
Severus had tried, from the moment he first suspected his own attraction, to eliminate the unwanted sensation by dwelling on all the points of conflict between the two of them. There ought to have been enough to eradicate his folly!
The day the news article came out informing the Wizarding World of Bellatrix Lestrange's 'cure', Severus had confronted Lupin as he blasted apart the transformation room in the cellar. Severus could not recall ever seeing the other man in such a rage and yet, he had deliberately closed himself into the room with Lupin and actually goaded the werewolf as hexes flew. Yet they had left the room in relative camaraderie, in spite of the bitterness of their anger.
He remembered returning from the Potions conference to find Lupin had met, accidentally, with Bellatrix Lestrange during his absence. The tenderhearted Gryffindor had locked himself in his room out of distress over whatever Bellatrix had said. Severus was not expected back for days, so Harry effing POTTER had been summoned to Spinner's End to break down the wards. The idea of Potter tampering with any wards at HIS house infuriated him to no end.
He and Lupin had argued and accusations had flown. Bellatrix had told Lupin that he had been the one to 'turn' a young woman into a werewolf - a young woman with whom he had been romantically acquainted at some previous time, apparently, and who later fell in with Greyback. Worse, it was a young woman who Severus had eventually executed during his servitude to the Dark Lord late in the war. Lupin thought Severus had known the identity of the one who had turned her into a werewolf and had deliberately concealed the information from him. Severus thought Lupin was angry and accusatory over the method of her death. The row was intense, yet somehow they had managed to find an awkward place of understanding when the shouting stopped.
The attempt at using these sorts of unpleasant recollections to dissuade him from his present attraction was futile. This particular memory only led him to recall the full moon immediately following the row. Severus, exceedingly concerned Lupin might do himself harm during the transformation, had decided not to permit the werewolf to be alone. Considering his own phobia regarding werewolves in general and this werewolf in particular, that was far easier resolved upon than actually done. Yet, he had held his ground when the time came, even going so far as to bare his throat to the wolf in his own fear and anger. The night had been somewhat cathartic for him, whether he had actually aided Lupin or not.
Still, that seemed to at least be the hint of a change in their association.
Certain it was that by the 'morning after', when Severus had found the news of Greyback's murder of the Weasley cousin and determined to deliver it in person to Lupin before he could find out from any other source, their interaction was much different. They had both apologised, which was a feat for Severus in and of itself. Remus had rested a gentle hand on Severus' arm. Severus had applied the healing salve to Remus' scratches on his shoulder. The recollection of the serious bent of their conversation was almost completely overshadowed by the physical impressions left indelibly carved into his memory.
And there was the blasted name again! If he wasn't careful, he'd be addressing Lupin as 'Remus' when they spoke and the apocalypse would surely descend.
One of his most often visited memories, as he tried to sort through his feelings, was the moment he walked in the door after his Quidditch outing with Myron Wagtail. He had been dreading the reactions of the rest of the household, considering he had permitted Wagtail to talk him into improving his 'look'. Severus was still of the impression a haircut, a change of shampoo, and a teeth-whitening charm could not possibly make any material difference, though the clothing was a dramatic change. Any man could wear different clothes! However, he could still remember the completely gobsmacked look on Remus' face when he walked into the sitting room. He'd been so startled, he'd actually cut his finger with the knife he was using to peel an apple! In that moment Severus had decided, amidst his embarrassment, that perhaps being a bit more attentive to aesthetic concerns wasn't such a bad thing.
That particular memory did nothing to help squash the untenable fancy he seemed to have developed for the werewolf, though!
Nothing helped.
Not even reliving their worst row to date, - where he had almost considered himself shot of the entire pack of werewolves, not just Lupin, - adversely impacted the attraction. If anything, it made him more aware of the problem.
Severus knew the true source of his anger during that row was burning jealousy - knowledge Lupin could not possibly have. The jealousy stemmed from having watched Lupin sit at that blasted kissing booth during the carnival or, more specifically, having watched Lupin kiss Myron Wagtail - never mind that Severus had been the one to put Myron up to the kiss to begin with. For a few hours, Severus had mistakenly believed his jealousy to be caused by hitherto unrealised feelings for Myron. However, that misconception lasted only until later the same afternoon, when he, Severus, had also kissed the younger man and realised there was nothing 'there'.
Still, the row had occurred right before they left for the school and Severus had studiously avoided Lupin once he was again safely ensconced within his dungeons. Avoidance couldn't be maintained forever, though, and eventually he had needed to deliver the Wolfsbane Potion. He'd kept the interactions as brief as possible to avoid yet another row and even managed to return to being 'Severus', rather than 'Snape' when Lupin addressed him. The actual full moon, however - or rather, their meeting afterward - had robbed him of the last shred of doubt in regards to his inclinations toward the werewolf. When Lupin's hands had gently treated the burns he had received a few days before, during a mishap involving dunderheads in detention, Severus could no longer deny the source of his turmoil where the werewolf was concerned.
At the age of forty, he had developed a blasted fancy for Remus Lupin, like some randy adolescent.
Pathetic.
He had almost been grateful for the attack at the Leaky Cauldron, in spite of the myriad of consequences. The stress and activity gave him plenty of things to do as he tried to forget and suppress the undesirable sensation.
Yet he had been enraged and almost overwhelmed with a desire to protect, when Remus had been injured during the aftermath, utterly heedless of his own condition. When Remus leaned against him for support in the hospital wing, while Poppy treated a particularly painful injury, Severus felt his heart stop for a moment. The desire to enfold the wounded man into his arms had been nearly overpowering.
Nearly.
He had retreated into his usual brooding state after that. Convinced his attraction was unrequited, he was resigned to living with the longing for that which he could never possess. It was not an unfamiliar sensation.
Unfortunately, complete retreat was impossible. There were meals at the staff table, where Lupin laughed and talked with their colleagues with his insufferable good humour. Staff meetings where he and Severus were often seated next to one another, or had to discuss issues regarding this or that student. Having the object of his present... obsession so close, yet so far, was nearly enough to drive him mad.
Moreover, he was starting to perceive the slightest of hints that, perhaps, Lupin was not wholly unaffected by him!
It was difficult to ascertain whether these signs were what Severus' interpretation suggested, or whether his desire for the thing gave the gestures more meaning than they truly possessed.
Unable to avoid or eliminate his own attraction, it now became imperative to try to determine the possibility of his fancy ever being returned.
The first evening he had sought Lupin, carrying a chessboard and his favourite cognac, had been intriguing enough for him to continue the investigations. Remus had blushed - Severus was sure of it - when Severus had teased him with light innuendo and a suggestive gaze. The werewolf had seemed out of sorts and had even bitten his lower lip occasionally - a gesture which Severus was finding to be quite captivating, but which he also knew Remus only did when he was nervous.
Severus made him nervous playing a simple game of chess.
Though he could not be certain and would not be complacent! The subject of conversation - safety of Lupin's pack and the recent attacks - could easily have been the cause of Lupin's lip biting (though the blush... that had seemed quite promising...)
So Severus had continued his 'research'. He used every drop of the cunning which had kept him alive during the war, proceeding with his experiments very cautiously. If it could be managed while looking accidental, he would initiate physical contact with Remus - a brush of fingers as the goblet containing the Wolfsbane exchanged hands, or a bumping of thighs, knees, feet beneath the table during meetings or meals.
These interactions never happened without some reaction from Remus, no matter how fleeting or how casual the gesture. Sometimes a heightening of colour, sometimes a biting of that abused lower lip, sometimes a hand run nervously through the thick tawny hair, and always a moving away. Sometimes, Lupin even apologised for the contact, as though afraid he had been the one to inadvertently initiate it.
Rather than avoid the man, Severus was making more of a point to interact with him daily, even if only for a few minutes. A Gryffindor student with problems in Potions, or a Slytherin student having difficulty with Defence, or the ever-present tensions between the students of both Houses gave plenty of fodder for casual discussion and plenty of opportunities to observe Lupin's reactions.
Remus was starting to appear almost hunted whenever Severus approached him and so Severus had backed off slightly out of concern he was not being as subtle as he had thought.
Severus was almost convinced. If the werewolf was not attracted to him at this very moment, the possibility was at least there. Now, the problem was, what to do about it? What did Severus really want?
He knew of Remus' propensity to be over-emotional and even whimsically 'romantic' at times. This, combined with the werewolf's own life-experience, which made him deliberately shun human contact in the relationship-sense, was enough to for Severus to know such a thing would never be 'easy'.
More importantly, he doubted very much Remus Lupin would be any more satisfied with a 'purely physical' relationship than Severus would be, himself! Severus was not a virgin by some prudish or moral choice, but because he had never trusted anyone enough to expose himself to that degree of vulnerability.
He also didn't believe in 'love'. Or rather, he knew it to exist, and had experienced it in the platonic sense in a few instances in his life, most of which had ended excruciatingly painfully. It had been enough. He had no intention to ever allow himself to 'love', again.
Where did that leave him? Could he offer Remus enough to be satisfying for them both, while protecting himself? If not, there was no point in making the pursuit.
He had come to respect Lupin far too much to be willing to insult him, or destroy the relatively amicable association they possessed (which he would never call 'friendship'), by attempting to satisfy physical lust just because Lupin was the only person he had ever trusted enough to want that level of intimacy.
Hence, the potion and this reflection here and now. Severus knew himself enough to know he had put up far too many internal barriers against his emotional impulses to consider himself a good judge of his own motivations when it was an emotional matter. Usually, he simply avoided the issue altogether, or forged clumsily ahead and let the chips fall where they may. He could do neither in this instance.
He had researched the potion thoroughly. Grudgingly impressed by the Weasley Twins' ingenuity, he knew it would suppress his inhibitions, stimulate the portion of the brain responsible for dreaming, and would feature the individual designated to be the subject. He also knew he would have some control of the dream, because of his formidable skill in the mental arts such as Occlumency - but actively fighting against the potion would likely cause a headache.
There was also nothing in the potion to stimulate the libido, so it was highly unlikely the 'day dream' would take a lascivious direction. This was probably due to the fact they were designed to be able to be consumed during 'boring' normal activities and the twins would not want to embarrass their customers. It was bad for business.
The point was his conscious mind would be effectively suppressed, enough to allow his subconscious free-reign. It was time to truly face what he had been trying to deny for months.
Withdrawing his wand, he made sure of his wards and the lock on his Floo - he did NOT want to be interrupted. Focusing his thoughts on Remus Lupin and setting the idea in his mind that he wanted to know his real intentions toward the man, he uncorked the potion bottle with great intrepidity and drank it.
His last thought before the potion took effect was disgust that the twins risked ruining their potions by adding sweeteners.
He was in a bed, as though just waking up from a restful sleep. It was not his bed and he was wearing black silk pajamas which were not familiar. The bed was familiar, though, as was the scent of the sheets and the pillow beneath his head. He stretched languorously, and realised he was not alone. There was a warm, heavy, but slightly scratchy presence just behind him.
Turning lazily, he found himself face-to-face, not with Remus Lupin, but with the tawny brown werewolf, blinking sleepily at him with Remus' eyes. Severus reached out and ruffled the thick fur just behind the wolf's head and the tufted tail thumped happily against the bed. It was as he looked at his hand that he noticed the silver ring. No, of course it couldn't be silver. Pewter, perhaps? Unlikely. It would have to be something harder, more durable, considering its unblemished state and his line of work. Probably platinum. It was on the ring finger of his left hand.
The wolf yawned widely, enormous fangs just inches from Severus' face, but Severus was not the least alarmed, though he did turn his head away in feigned distaste.
"My next modification to the blasted potion will be a breath-freshener," he said firmly. The wolf chuffed in amusement and licked him across the face, as though to remind Severus his 'morning breath' could hardly be any more appealing to the sensitive nose of a werewolf.
Severus wiped his sleeve across his face, chuckling, then resumed the scratching of his fingers through the luxurious fur, while the werewolf placed his nose against Severus' neck and sighed contentedly against his skin.
There was absolutely no fear, which seemed astonishing, though when he tried to pursue the thought intellectually, he felt a headache behind his eyes and desisted at once, returning to unquestioning experience of the potion. Reflection could come later.
The warm playfulness and cozy embrace ended abruptly, as the wolf suddenly whined and rolled into a crouch on the bed. Severus sat up next to him and continued to slowly stroke his hand through the fur in long, smooth motions down his back, as soothingly as he could.
His dream-self hated this part, though in his reality he had never experienced it. In moments, the whine became a whimper of pain and then a howl, as the body slowly transformed once again into that of the man. It seemed to take forever and Severus felt every sound, every snap of sinew and grind of bone, as though it was he who was suffering the torment.
At last it was over. Remus was on his stomach, naked, though the sheet of the bed covered him from the waist down, his legs having slid beneath the covering as his body stretched in its reformation. (Probably a side effect of the potion, Severus thought. It seemed to actively inhibit any chance of prurient direction of the dream. Another stab behind his eyes once again eliminated this line of thought.)
Remus was breathing heavily and not making any attempt to shift his position. His head rested on a pillow with his arms encircling it. Severus said nothing but reached for a jar of ointment on the bedside table, which he began to gently rub into Remus' back and shoulders. A soft moan of appreciation from Remus was all the encouragement he needed.
The act was not remotely sexual, but profoundly intimate, and Severus reveled in it. His pale, long-fingered hands made an interesting contrast to the slightly golden-hued fairness of Remus' skin. The muscle-relaxing ointment had no scent, but allowed Severus' hands to glide easily over Remus' warm, silken flesh. Severus kneaded the well-defined muscles with gentle firmness, wary of causing discomfort. Swinging one long, silk-clad leg over Remus' back, he straddled the werewolf - without allowing any of his weight to rest on the weary man - so he could glide both hands in long, sweeping motions up and down the length of Remus' back.
When he finished, he returned to lay beside Remus, his be-ringed left hand resting on the other man's golden skin, as he supported his jaw on his right.
"Thank you, Severus," Remus said at last, his sleepy voice like warm honey. "That feels wonderful."
Remus rolled slightly so his back was nestled perfectly against Severus' front.
"Can I get you anything?" Severus asked quietly, knowing Remus could never eat anything right away after the transformation. "That blasted potion! It is supposed to be minimising the pain."
"Severus, stop," Remus said with humour in his voice. "It's much better than it was, honest. You can't expect it to be completely painless, considering what's happening.
"The only thing you could get me, I already have," he added, twining his fingers with Severus' and pulling Severus closer to him, as though Severus was a quilt to wrap about his shoulders. The position brought Severus' jaw in contact with the thick mane of tawny hair, and he nuzzled his face through the luxurious stuff with shameless self-indulgence.
Remus might have been using him as a quilt, but it was Severus who felt cocooned, blanketed in a warmth, a satisfaction, a sense of true contentment the likes of which he had never known, nor even imagined. He slipped his right arm under Remus' pillow to settle down in the bed more closely against him, encircling the werewolf in his embrace.
It was as he was shifting his position that he noticed the feel of something cool against his hand in contrast to Remus' otherwise warm skin. Lifting their left hands to look at their entwined fingers, he saw a band which was the identical match to his, on Remus' hand. A quiet sort of joy seemed to pour over him as he contemplated the significance of those rings. It was such an unfamiliar sensation he feared he might actually weep from the overpowering force of it.
Remus chose that moment to disentangle himself from the hold in order to turn face-to-face, burrowing his nose into Severus' hair as though to breathe in the scent of him, scissoring their legs together to 'cuddle' comfortably without banging knobby-knees.
"Love you, Severus," Remus murmured sleepily as he drifted off into a contented sleep, enfolded in Severus' arms.
The vision ended abruptly, not because the thirty minutes were up, but because Severus could not bear to experience any more. Headache pain was a small price to pay to remove himself from the bittersweet agony of wanting that which he had always believed he could never have.
Such a contrariety of emotions swirled violently within him he grasped the empty bottle and hurled it against the opposite wall, just for the satisfaction of watching it shatter to bits.
He'd never wanted anything more than the feeling of contentment which still lingered inside of him - but was it even possible for someone like him?
Slumping forward in his chair, he buried his head in his hands and knotted his fingers in his hair in helpless frustration.
He might as well have settled himself in front of the Mirror of Erised!
Distress would consume the rest of this evening, while Severus consumed a healthy measure of cognac. He was not a 'quitter', though, and he sure as hell was no COWARD, no matter what Potter had said! Once he had time to come to grips with the idea, there would be time enough for consideration of potential courses of action.
Severus was not a man to do anything by halves. This was by no means the end of this.
Perhaps, it was a beginning.
Time: Very late evening
Place: Severus' private rooms at Hogwarts
Characters Involved: Severus Snape
Rating: G
It was late. He had confiscated dozens of those blasted 'Day Dream Potions' since the start of term. The vast majority of them, of course, had gone right down the toilet where they belonged.
This one, he had saved.
For weeks.
He sat alone in the quiet solitude of his personal chambers, contemplating the gaudy vial with the name of its subject emblazoned across the label.
Remus Lupin.
Severus could not even remember the last time he had willingly consumed any potion not of his own concoction. The idea that he was seriously contemplating such a material step, now, spoke volumes of the turmoil of his psyche and, frankly, he was tired of it. He was not a man to do anything by halves, once he set his mind to a task. However, unspeakably poor decisions in his past had made him exceedingly cautious before choosing a course of action, hence his present state of self-reflection and turmoil.
First, it was necessary to determine how he had gotten himself to this ridiculous place to begin with. When had it begun? Certainly not when Lupin had decked him in their first meeting after Albus' death. Not that Severus hadn't deserved it, of course. Still, having his jaw dislocated and a couple of teeth loosened was not remotely conducive to developing inclinations toward the insufferable beast. Granted, they had come to a reasonable working relationship after the meeting, but that was more because Lupin wanted to be assured of Potter's victory and safe survival of the war, rather than anything personal toward him.
Three years of the war had not done it - though Lupin had been his only real lifeline in that hell. As Severus had told the werewolf time and time again, if not for those brief meetings for exchange of information - the fleeting reminders there was a world outside the innermost circles of the Death Eaters, that he had a purpose beyond that which the Dark Lord commanded of him - he might cheerfully have gone mad. The resultant saving of his sanity had earned Lupin a considerable portion of Severus' respect and more than enough of a sense of obligation to make providing lodgings for Lupin's pack after the war seem the only logical thing to do.
Had it been, though? Was there attraction, even then, of which he had been unaware? Could his sense of obligation really justify the expense and trouble he had gone to in magically enlarging the interior of the house to accommodate half a dozen lycanthropes? Somehow, what had seemed logically very sound then, now had more holes than expensive Swiss cheese!
What was it, which had driven him to acknowledge Lupin's birthday only a few days after the pack's arrival to Spinner's End? Severus was not one to celebrate such childish traditions, beyond being excessively indulgent of Draco, of course. Yet, he had baked the blasted (admittedly very austere) cake and given Lupin a copy of one of his few photographs of Lily at her wedding. There was no real 'obligation' which could have made him do that had he not wanted to do it.
He could certainly still remember, with vivid clarity, the disturbance of his thoughts when he found the werewolf, half naked and revealing injuries Severus had not known about, passed out on the sitting room sofa the morning after the first full moon at the house. Why had Lupin's shirtless state disturbed him so much? Moreover, why had he deliberately picked a fight with Lupin over the werewolf's lack of trust in him at the time and why the bloody hell had Lupin's trust mattered so much, anyway?
He could still recollect the feel of Remus' skin as he had all but bodily carried the werewolf up to his bed to finish recovering from the transformation. Just the memory made his blood heat and his heart race.
It was now highly suspicious he had so readily agreed to add to his already substantial brewing work-load at nothing more than Lupin's request. He was not such a dunderhead as to be at all confused as to the identity of the 'hypothetical individual' they were discussing and all his normal inclinations would have been to let Harry Potter suffer interminably, and with relish. Yet, a couched request from Remus Lupin and Severus had readily supplied the potions for the boy's ailment.
Without ever a drop of displayed gratitude from the insolent Potter, of course!
What had made him agree??
Perhaps it was the same motivation which caused Lupin to agree to teach at Hogwarts with Severus' coaxing. The werewolf showed every sign of refusing the offered position, even though Severus knew he wanted it. Severus had thought himself motivated by the selfish desire to provide himself with one guaranteed 'ally' while at the school, yet now he wasn't so sure.
Everything seemed suspect in light of this pathetic attraction to the man! Just because his own acknowledgment of the 'attraction' was relatively new-found, didn't seem to mean it was actually new in its existence!
He continued to stare blankly at the potion bottle on his desk, as he prodded at the various recollections concerning Lupin. The idea that he, who so hated being manipulated, could have been this manipulated by his own psyche for over six months was almost unbearable.
Was there something more than Gryffindor stubbornness and his own pathetic desperation to have someone on his 'side', which seemed to cause them to repeatedly seek each other for conversation and reassurances when events in the world felt overwhelming? There was no point in denying he felt himself tremendously refreshed and somehow rejuvenated after those various interactions, whether they were accidental meetings because they happened to be in the same room of the house at the same time, or whether one of them had deliberately sought the other for a few moments of self-indulgent, pointless whinging.
Wasn't it odd that Remus Lupin was one of the few people - and certainly the only person still living - with whom Severus could let down his 'guard' enough to engage in the occasional whinge to begin with? Shouldn't he have considered that a 'warning sign' and created some distance between them ages ago? It would have been his normal inclination with anyone else, to keep them at arm's length, or more. Why was Remus Lupin different?
Still, he would never have imagined himself to come to a place, even months later, where he would have willingly played 'Lily's game' with any other human being, let alone Lupin. 'Tell me something true' had been the rather unimaginative name of her invented 'game', but it had been one of the few ways Lily had been able to pry what she called 'interesting tidbits' from him.
Severus was a little uncomfortable with the recollection of his revelations during the 'game' with Lupin, yet he knew Remus would never use the information against him in any way.
When had Remus earned that much of his jealously guarded trust?
And when the bloody hell had he so slipped that the insufferable werewolf was sometimes 'Remus' in his thoughts!?
Sitting here in quiet solitude, he could vividly remember the scent of Lupin's sheets on the occasion he had woken in Lupin's BED. Never mind that it had been his own idiocy which had driven him to such a degree of exhaustion he had utterly passed out in his potions lab. He knew better than to push himself so far with endurance potions and strengthening solutions as to not sleep for days - the resultant crash had been inevitable.
Waking in Lupin's bed had not.
The experience, though distressing at the time, was now remembered with considerable pleasure. No one had ever taken care of him like that before. Yet why had the werewolf taken it upon himself to tend to Severus in his moment of self-induced weakness?
Severus had tried, from the moment he first suspected his own attraction, to eliminate the unwanted sensation by dwelling on all the points of conflict between the two of them. There ought to have been enough to eradicate his folly!
The day the news article came out informing the Wizarding World of Bellatrix Lestrange's 'cure', Severus had confronted Lupin as he blasted apart the transformation room in the cellar. Severus could not recall ever seeing the other man in such a rage and yet, he had deliberately closed himself into the room with Lupin and actually goaded the werewolf as hexes flew. Yet they had left the room in relative camaraderie, in spite of the bitterness of their anger.
He remembered returning from the Potions conference to find Lupin had met, accidentally, with Bellatrix Lestrange during his absence. The tenderhearted Gryffindor had locked himself in his room out of distress over whatever Bellatrix had said. Severus was not expected back for days, so Harry effing POTTER had been summoned to Spinner's End to break down the wards. The idea of Potter tampering with any wards at HIS house infuriated him to no end.
He and Lupin had argued and accusations had flown. Bellatrix had told Lupin that he had been the one to 'turn' a young woman into a werewolf - a young woman with whom he had been romantically acquainted at some previous time, apparently, and who later fell in with Greyback. Worse, it was a young woman who Severus had eventually executed during his servitude to the Dark Lord late in the war. Lupin thought Severus had known the identity of the one who had turned her into a werewolf and had deliberately concealed the information from him. Severus thought Lupin was angry and accusatory over the method of her death. The row was intense, yet somehow they had managed to find an awkward place of understanding when the shouting stopped.
The attempt at using these sorts of unpleasant recollections to dissuade him from his present attraction was futile. This particular memory only led him to recall the full moon immediately following the row. Severus, exceedingly concerned Lupin might do himself harm during the transformation, had decided not to permit the werewolf to be alone. Considering his own phobia regarding werewolves in general and this werewolf in particular, that was far easier resolved upon than actually done. Yet, he had held his ground when the time came, even going so far as to bare his throat to the wolf in his own fear and anger. The night had been somewhat cathartic for him, whether he had actually aided Lupin or not.
Still, that seemed to at least be the hint of a change in their association.
Certain it was that by the 'morning after', when Severus had found the news of Greyback's murder of the Weasley cousin and determined to deliver it in person to Lupin before he could find out from any other source, their interaction was much different. They had both apologised, which was a feat for Severus in and of itself. Remus had rested a gentle hand on Severus' arm. Severus had applied the healing salve to Remus' scratches on his shoulder. The recollection of the serious bent of their conversation was almost completely overshadowed by the physical impressions left indelibly carved into his memory.
And there was the blasted name again! If he wasn't careful, he'd be addressing Lupin as 'Remus' when they spoke and the apocalypse would surely descend.
One of his most often visited memories, as he tried to sort through his feelings, was the moment he walked in the door after his Quidditch outing with Myron Wagtail. He had been dreading the reactions of the rest of the household, considering he had permitted Wagtail to talk him into improving his 'look'. Severus was still of the impression a haircut, a change of shampoo, and a teeth-whitening charm could not possibly make any material difference, though the clothing was a dramatic change. Any man could wear different clothes! However, he could still remember the completely gobsmacked look on Remus' face when he walked into the sitting room. He'd been so startled, he'd actually cut his finger with the knife he was using to peel an apple! In that moment Severus had decided, amidst his embarrassment, that perhaps being a bit more attentive to aesthetic concerns wasn't such a bad thing.
That particular memory did nothing to help squash the untenable fancy he seemed to have developed for the werewolf, though!
Nothing helped.
Not even reliving their worst row to date, - where he had almost considered himself shot of the entire pack of werewolves, not just Lupin, - adversely impacted the attraction. If anything, it made him more aware of the problem.
Severus knew the true source of his anger during that row was burning jealousy - knowledge Lupin could not possibly have. The jealousy stemmed from having watched Lupin sit at that blasted kissing booth during the carnival or, more specifically, having watched Lupin kiss Myron Wagtail - never mind that Severus had been the one to put Myron up to the kiss to begin with. For a few hours, Severus had mistakenly believed his jealousy to be caused by hitherto unrealised feelings for Myron. However, that misconception lasted only until later the same afternoon, when he, Severus, had also kissed the younger man and realised there was nothing 'there'.
Still, the row had occurred right before they left for the school and Severus had studiously avoided Lupin once he was again safely ensconced within his dungeons. Avoidance couldn't be maintained forever, though, and eventually he had needed to deliver the Wolfsbane Potion. He'd kept the interactions as brief as possible to avoid yet another row and even managed to return to being 'Severus', rather than 'Snape' when Lupin addressed him. The actual full moon, however - or rather, their meeting afterward - had robbed him of the last shred of doubt in regards to his inclinations toward the werewolf. When Lupin's hands had gently treated the burns he had received a few days before, during a mishap involving dunderheads in detention, Severus could no longer deny the source of his turmoil where the werewolf was concerned.
At the age of forty, he had developed a blasted fancy for Remus Lupin, like some randy adolescent.
Pathetic.
He had almost been grateful for the attack at the Leaky Cauldron, in spite of the myriad of consequences. The stress and activity gave him plenty of things to do as he tried to forget and suppress the undesirable sensation.
Yet he had been enraged and almost overwhelmed with a desire to protect, when Remus had been injured during the aftermath, utterly heedless of his own condition. When Remus leaned against him for support in the hospital wing, while Poppy treated a particularly painful injury, Severus felt his heart stop for a moment. The desire to enfold the wounded man into his arms had been nearly overpowering.
Nearly.
He had retreated into his usual brooding state after that. Convinced his attraction was unrequited, he was resigned to living with the longing for that which he could never possess. It was not an unfamiliar sensation.
Unfortunately, complete retreat was impossible. There were meals at the staff table, where Lupin laughed and talked with their colleagues with his insufferable good humour. Staff meetings where he and Severus were often seated next to one another, or had to discuss issues regarding this or that student. Having the object of his present... obsession so close, yet so far, was nearly enough to drive him mad.
Moreover, he was starting to perceive the slightest of hints that, perhaps, Lupin was not wholly unaffected by him!
It was difficult to ascertain whether these signs were what Severus' interpretation suggested, or whether his desire for the thing gave the gestures more meaning than they truly possessed.
Unable to avoid or eliminate his own attraction, it now became imperative to try to determine the possibility of his fancy ever being returned.
The first evening he had sought Lupin, carrying a chessboard and his favourite cognac, had been intriguing enough for him to continue the investigations. Remus had blushed - Severus was sure of it - when Severus had teased him with light innuendo and a suggestive gaze. The werewolf had seemed out of sorts and had even bitten his lower lip occasionally - a gesture which Severus was finding to be quite captivating, but which he also knew Remus only did when he was nervous.
Severus made him nervous playing a simple game of chess.
Though he could not be certain and would not be complacent! The subject of conversation - safety of Lupin's pack and the recent attacks - could easily have been the cause of Lupin's lip biting (though the blush... that had seemed quite promising...)
So Severus had continued his 'research'. He used every drop of the cunning which had kept him alive during the war, proceeding with his experiments very cautiously. If it could be managed while looking accidental, he would initiate physical contact with Remus - a brush of fingers as the goblet containing the Wolfsbane exchanged hands, or a bumping of thighs, knees, feet beneath the table during meetings or meals.
These interactions never happened without some reaction from Remus, no matter how fleeting or how casual the gesture. Sometimes a heightening of colour, sometimes a biting of that abused lower lip, sometimes a hand run nervously through the thick tawny hair, and always a moving away. Sometimes, Lupin even apologised for the contact, as though afraid he had been the one to inadvertently initiate it.
Rather than avoid the man, Severus was making more of a point to interact with him daily, even if only for a few minutes. A Gryffindor student with problems in Potions, or a Slytherin student having difficulty with Defence, or the ever-present tensions between the students of both Houses gave plenty of fodder for casual discussion and plenty of opportunities to observe Lupin's reactions.
Remus was starting to appear almost hunted whenever Severus approached him and so Severus had backed off slightly out of concern he was not being as subtle as he had thought.
Severus was almost convinced. If the werewolf was not attracted to him at this very moment, the possibility was at least there. Now, the problem was, what to do about it? What did Severus really want?
He knew of Remus' propensity to be over-emotional and even whimsically 'romantic' at times. This, combined with the werewolf's own life-experience, which made him deliberately shun human contact in the relationship-sense, was enough to for Severus to know such a thing would never be 'easy'.
More importantly, he doubted very much Remus Lupin would be any more satisfied with a 'purely physical' relationship than Severus would be, himself! Severus was not a virgin by some prudish or moral choice, but because he had never trusted anyone enough to expose himself to that degree of vulnerability.
He also didn't believe in 'love'. Or rather, he knew it to exist, and had experienced it in the platonic sense in a few instances in his life, most of which had ended excruciatingly painfully. It had been enough. He had no intention to ever allow himself to 'love', again.
Where did that leave him? Could he offer Remus enough to be satisfying for them both, while protecting himself? If not, there was no point in making the pursuit.
He had come to respect Lupin far too much to be willing to insult him, or destroy the relatively amicable association they possessed (which he would never call 'friendship'), by attempting to satisfy physical lust just because Lupin was the only person he had ever trusted enough to want that level of intimacy.
Hence, the potion and this reflection here and now. Severus knew himself enough to know he had put up far too many internal barriers against his emotional impulses to consider himself a good judge of his own motivations when it was an emotional matter. Usually, he simply avoided the issue altogether, or forged clumsily ahead and let the chips fall where they may. He could do neither in this instance.
He had researched the potion thoroughly. Grudgingly impressed by the Weasley Twins' ingenuity, he knew it would suppress his inhibitions, stimulate the portion of the brain responsible for dreaming, and would feature the individual designated to be the subject. He also knew he would have some control of the dream, because of his formidable skill in the mental arts such as Occlumency - but actively fighting against the potion would likely cause a headache.
There was also nothing in the potion to stimulate the libido, so it was highly unlikely the 'day dream' would take a lascivious direction. This was probably due to the fact they were designed to be able to be consumed during 'boring' normal activities and the twins would not want to embarrass their customers. It was bad for business.
The point was his conscious mind would be effectively suppressed, enough to allow his subconscious free-reign. It was time to truly face what he had been trying to deny for months.
Withdrawing his wand, he made sure of his wards and the lock on his Floo - he did NOT want to be interrupted. Focusing his thoughts on Remus Lupin and setting the idea in his mind that he wanted to know his real intentions toward the man, he uncorked the potion bottle with great intrepidity and drank it.
His last thought before the potion took effect was disgust that the twins risked ruining their potions by adding sweeteners.
He was in a bed, as though just waking up from a restful sleep. It was not his bed and he was wearing black silk pajamas which were not familiar. The bed was familiar, though, as was the scent of the sheets and the pillow beneath his head. He stretched languorously, and realised he was not alone. There was a warm, heavy, but slightly scratchy presence just behind him.
Turning lazily, he found himself face-to-face, not with Remus Lupin, but with the tawny brown werewolf, blinking sleepily at him with Remus' eyes. Severus reached out and ruffled the thick fur just behind the wolf's head and the tufted tail thumped happily against the bed. It was as he looked at his hand that he noticed the silver ring. No, of course it couldn't be silver. Pewter, perhaps? Unlikely. It would have to be something harder, more durable, considering its unblemished state and his line of work. Probably platinum. It was on the ring finger of his left hand.
The wolf yawned widely, enormous fangs just inches from Severus' face, but Severus was not the least alarmed, though he did turn his head away in feigned distaste.
"My next modification to the blasted potion will be a breath-freshener," he said firmly. The wolf chuffed in amusement and licked him across the face, as though to remind Severus his 'morning breath' could hardly be any more appealing to the sensitive nose of a werewolf.
Severus wiped his sleeve across his face, chuckling, then resumed the scratching of his fingers through the luxurious fur, while the werewolf placed his nose against Severus' neck and sighed contentedly against his skin.
There was absolutely no fear, which seemed astonishing, though when he tried to pursue the thought intellectually, he felt a headache behind his eyes and desisted at once, returning to unquestioning experience of the potion. Reflection could come later.
The warm playfulness and cozy embrace ended abruptly, as the wolf suddenly whined and rolled into a crouch on the bed. Severus sat up next to him and continued to slowly stroke his hand through the fur in long, smooth motions down his back, as soothingly as he could.
His dream-self hated this part, though in his reality he had never experienced it. In moments, the whine became a whimper of pain and then a howl, as the body slowly transformed once again into that of the man. It seemed to take forever and Severus felt every sound, every snap of sinew and grind of bone, as though it was he who was suffering the torment.
At last it was over. Remus was on his stomach, naked, though the sheet of the bed covered him from the waist down, his legs having slid beneath the covering as his body stretched in its reformation. (Probably a side effect of the potion, Severus thought. It seemed to actively inhibit any chance of prurient direction of the dream. Another stab behind his eyes once again eliminated this line of thought.)
Remus was breathing heavily and not making any attempt to shift his position. His head rested on a pillow with his arms encircling it. Severus said nothing but reached for a jar of ointment on the bedside table, which he began to gently rub into Remus' back and shoulders. A soft moan of appreciation from Remus was all the encouragement he needed.
The act was not remotely sexual, but profoundly intimate, and Severus reveled in it. His pale, long-fingered hands made an interesting contrast to the slightly golden-hued fairness of Remus' skin. The muscle-relaxing ointment had no scent, but allowed Severus' hands to glide easily over Remus' warm, silken flesh. Severus kneaded the well-defined muscles with gentle firmness, wary of causing discomfort. Swinging one long, silk-clad leg over Remus' back, he straddled the werewolf - without allowing any of his weight to rest on the weary man - so he could glide both hands in long, sweeping motions up and down the length of Remus' back.
When he finished, he returned to lay beside Remus, his be-ringed left hand resting on the other man's golden skin, as he supported his jaw on his right.
"Thank you, Severus," Remus said at last, his sleepy voice like warm honey. "That feels wonderful."
Remus rolled slightly so his back was nestled perfectly against Severus' front.
"Can I get you anything?" Severus asked quietly, knowing Remus could never eat anything right away after the transformation. "That blasted potion! It is supposed to be minimising the pain."
"Severus, stop," Remus said with humour in his voice. "It's much better than it was, honest. You can't expect it to be completely painless, considering what's happening.
"The only thing you could get me, I already have," he added, twining his fingers with Severus' and pulling Severus closer to him, as though Severus was a quilt to wrap about his shoulders. The position brought Severus' jaw in contact with the thick mane of tawny hair, and he nuzzled his face through the luxurious stuff with shameless self-indulgence.
Remus might have been using him as a quilt, but it was Severus who felt cocooned, blanketed in a warmth, a satisfaction, a sense of true contentment the likes of which he had never known, nor even imagined. He slipped his right arm under Remus' pillow to settle down in the bed more closely against him, encircling the werewolf in his embrace.
It was as he was shifting his position that he noticed the feel of something cool against his hand in contrast to Remus' otherwise warm skin. Lifting their left hands to look at their entwined fingers, he saw a band which was the identical match to his, on Remus' hand. A quiet sort of joy seemed to pour over him as he contemplated the significance of those rings. It was such an unfamiliar sensation he feared he might actually weep from the overpowering force of it.
Remus chose that moment to disentangle himself from the hold in order to turn face-to-face, burrowing his nose into Severus' hair as though to breathe in the scent of him, scissoring their legs together to 'cuddle' comfortably without banging knobby-knees.
"Love you, Severus," Remus murmured sleepily as he drifted off into a contented sleep, enfolded in Severus' arms.
The vision ended abruptly, not because the thirty minutes were up, but because Severus could not bear to experience any more. Headache pain was a small price to pay to remove himself from the bittersweet agony of wanting that which he had always believed he could never have.
Such a contrariety of emotions swirled violently within him he grasped the empty bottle and hurled it against the opposite wall, just for the satisfaction of watching it shatter to bits.
He'd never wanted anything more than the feeling of contentment which still lingered inside of him - but was it even possible for someone like him?
Slumping forward in his chair, he buried his head in his hands and knotted his fingers in his hair in helpless frustration.
He might as well have settled himself in front of the Mirror of Erised!
Distress would consume the rest of this evening, while Severus consumed a healthy measure of cognac. He was not a 'quitter', though, and he sure as hell was no COWARD, no matter what Potter had said! Once he had time to come to grips with the idea, there would be time enough for consideration of potential courses of action.
Severus was not a man to do anything by halves. This was by no means the end of this.
Perhaps, it was a beginning.