Disclaimer: I don’t own them and never will, J. K. Rowling does, but I can dream about them, can’t I?

Rating: NC17

Archive: Yes, but tell me where!

Author's Note: Thank you! to Sekhmet, my beta!

Chapter 1

"That damned snow!" Snape cursed, slipping for the umpteenth time in the soft powdery snow that covered everything around Hogwarts with a sound-muffling blanket. Still muttering curses under his breath, he wrapped his heavy cloak tighter around him and blinked away the snowflakes that continually stung his eyes with annoying intensity. The blizzard around him grew increasingly stronger, and made it ever more difficult to find the path that led up to the main portal. The fine snow fogged the air, and only sudden gusts of the icy wind made the castle's lights visible to the Potions Master.

The weather had become increasingly worse over the last few days, as had Snape's mood. He had been on an assignment for Dumbledore, spying on some Death Eaters and was on his way back home to bring news of Voldemort's latest plot. In order to return as quickly as possible, he took the first available train to Hogsmeade, arriving hours before dawn. But there was no time to waste--he had not expected the weather to become this bad so quickly. The darkness and the blizzard combined were blinding.

Slipping once again, Snape fell hard and howled in pain as a jagged rock dug itself into his knee. An answering howl echoed back to him, its location barely discernable through the ever-shifting directions of the gusts of wind and snow. Snape froze, then stumbled back to his feet and continued his way up to the castle with a little more speed.

A violent gust of wind veered him a few steps to the right, away from the path. Or, what he *thought* was the path. The unseen creature howled again, nearer this time. Snape managed a few more steps when he noticed that something was wrong. Very wrong. The path under his feet should not be able to creak that way. He made a second step. Through a pause in the howling of the storm, he heard another creaking sound, louder this time. Snape stopped and froze again. He couldn't be that far off the path. He couldn't possibly be on the lake! On the cracking ice of the damned lake! At another creaking sound and a sudden movement of the ground upon which he stood, Snape paled and tried to slowly kneel down in order to put his weight on a wider area, but it was too late. Sickeningly, slowly, the ice broke and made way for his body to sink down into an icy grave. The coldness of the water made Snape gasp for air. His hands searched for anything he could possibly get a hold on to pull himself back up to safety, but he found nothing. Stangely aware of everything, he felt his body go numb. He saw the dark whiteness of the world, and felt his thoughts move slower and slower. Suddenly, he thought that he saw a blurred shape appear in front of him. As the whiteness closed around him, engulfing him in its coldness, he felt a stange feeling of warmth. Then, nothing.

Lupin felt the urge to run and howl. Tonight was the full moon, and the nearness of the wolf made his boiling emotions even stronger. Nervous and restless, he caught himself pacing in his room, not being able to sit down for more than a minute. He went to the window and looked out into the whirling snow. It looked as if the world ended only a few metres outside his window. He could not even see the ground. If he weren't so keenly aware of the rising of the moon, he would have sworn that it was late at night, but it was only late afternoon. He stepped back and turned around to warm his hands at the fire that crackled in the fireplace of his room. A wave of anger washed through him as he recalled the events of the afternoon. Events that now made him feel things he had never thought were within him. To hate another person like this, he had thought impossible. Until now. And ,quite frankly, the intensity of his hate scared him. It was so unlike him. Worse yet, he had imagined the scene that had caused this hate so often in his mind, in his nightmares, that he thought he would be prepared for it. But now, it looked like he had never even been close to coping with it.

Dumbledore had invited several members of the Order of the Phoenix to Hogwarts to discuss with them ways to deal with Voldemort. Among the guests were great names, famous wizards like Angus McDougal and Samuel Woodlander. Wizards who knew more about Defence Against the Dark Arts than he, Lupin, would ever be able to learn. These were wizards he had admired since he was a small child. Sirius was with them, having finally been found innocent by the Ministry after Pettigrew had been seen alive by several wizards all over the country.

When Lupin had entered the room, a little late because of his last class, and had sat down at the round table next to Sirius and Arabella Figg, four of the other wizards, among them Angus McDougal, had risen to leave the room. When Dumbledore had asked them what was wrong, they had answered that none of them would sit at one table with a filthy werewolf.

Lupin felt the emotions of that moment flow through him again and slammed his fists against the cold stone wall next to the fireplace. He had felt frozen, his heart aching as if it had become a block of ice and he knew that he must have looked deathly pale. That was what he had feared would happen after Snape had made his secret common knowledge. Rejection, hate, fear. Time had stood still, the faces around him becoming blurred spots of colour. Slowly, he had stood up, proudly straightening his back. Stone-faced, he had stopped Sirius from jumping up and starting a fight by placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing. He had felt his grip becoming harder and harder, and he was sure that Sirius would have a nasty bruise tomorrow. With an outer calm that he had not felt inside, Lupin had turned to Dumbledore and told him that he would leave the meeting. That the Order could not risk losing four wizards over one werewolf. With that, he had carefully shifted his chair into its correct position, nodded a greeting and left the room.

Only outside, on the way back to his room, had something snapped inside him. Gasping for breath in heaving sobs, he had slid down against the wall. The rejection hurt. Much more than he had thought possible. He had felt a palette of emotions rush through his thoughts; hurt, self-pity and hate. He hated the four wizards for not seeing him for what he was, for rejecting not only him, but also the help and knowledge he had to offer the Order, his will to fight Voldemort. They needed everybody; all the help they could get. Why didn't they see that? And McDougal, his childhood hero, the man who claimed to know everything about the creatures of the dark, especially about werewolves, hated him just because he was not fully human.

Neville Longbottom had found him sitting on the floor, face buried in his hands, sobbing and hurting. The boy's helplessness about what to do with a crying teacher had encouraged him to find his way back to the shreds of his old self. With Neville's help, he had stood up, straightened his robes and assured the boy that everything was all right with him and that Madame Pomfrey would not be able to help him. Full of worry, and a little scared by Lupin's odd behaviour, Neville had escorted him back to his room.

By now, the story of his breakdown would have spread through the whole school like a wildfire. Lupin had not gone down to the Great Hall for dinner. He could not stand to face the Order's members again this soon. And, he could not stand the thought of Sirius coming up to his room and start rambling about those goddamn jerks. With a look of disgust, Lupin downed the last goblet of Wolfsbane Potion that Snape had prepared for him before going on his mission. He grabbed his coat and went out into the snow, over to the Whomping Willow and the hidden path to the Shrieking Shack. When he felt the transformation coming nearer, he undressed himself and walked back to the Willow. Outside, in the cold snow, the change began.

In wolf form, he ran and ran, trying to get rid of those damned feelings--the hate, the frustration and the other emotions that threatened to strangle him. Exhausted, he returned to the Whomping Willow. When the dawn came near, he heard a strange howling sound coming from not far away. Before he could react, the wolf's instincts took over, and he answered the howl and searched for its source. His sharp senses noticed a figure standing, unmoving, not far away. Snape, his keen sense of smell told him. Then, the figure was suddenly gone. Lupin realized what must have happened, and made a run to the place where he had seen Snape vanish into the cold water of the lake. Skidding to a halt, he was just in time to catch Snape's sleeve. Careful not to injure and infect the man, he began to pull, feeling the ice begin to crack underneath his paws. He pulled Snape's body halfway out of the water when the ice broke again. Lupin's hind legs lost their footing, and he began to frantically claw the floe. Just as he thought he would have no chance, and the icy water found its way through his thick fur, Snape shifted his weight. Suddenly, Lupin's leg found a hold again.

Without further incidents, Lupin managed to pull Snape back to firm ground and up to the castle's portals. However, his involuntary bath began to have its effect on him too. His hind legs suddenly stopped carrying him. He had no chance to reach the handles and open the portals to drag Snape into the warmth inside. With a frustrated howl, Lupin threw himself against the doors once, twice. On his third try, the portal opened, and McDougal peeked through. When he saw the unconscious figure of Snape on the doorstep and the werewolf that crouched beside him, he instinctively drew his wand and stupefied Lupin. The man lost his consciousness the instant that the hex hit him, but the wolf needed a few seconds longer, and dragged itself away from the threat, only to break down some steps from the portals. McDougal grabbed Snape's collar and pulled him inside, closing the portal with a loud bang and locking it behind him.

Snape was lying unconscious in a large bed, buried under mountains of blankets in the hospital wing. McDougal was agitatedly talking to Professor Dumbledore when suddenly Hagrid stormed in. His large presence seemed to fill the whole room, and Dumbledore needed a few seconds to notice that the half-giant was carrying something in his arms.

"Found 'im just outside the portals, sir! He's as cold as ice!" Hagrid rumbled urgently. Carefully, he placed his bundle on the next bed: the naked form of Remus Lupin, wrapped in Hagrid's coat. His skin looked almost translucently white and his hair was crusted with ice. Madame Pomfrey gave a small cry and bustled over to him, waving her wand to take his body temperature and his organic functions. In a separate room behind her, a large bathtub filled itself with hot water.

McDougal was shocked. "You aren't going to help that, that...beast, are you? That thing tried to attack this man! I could hardly stop it from biting and killing your Master of Potions! It is a monster and has to be killed immediately! I don't understand how you can tolerate it around your students! Don't you know how dangerous a werewolf is?" Gesturing wildly with his wand, he turned from Dumbledore to Lupin, and started chanting.

"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore thundered. "Don't you dare hurt this man! You don't know him. He and Professor Snape aren't the best of friends, true, but Remus would never hurt him. Leave this room immediately! We will talk later." Dumbledore glared over his glasses at McDougal, who stared back at the old wizard, then sharply turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

Not hesitating any further, Madame Pomfrey lifted Lupin's body with her wand and moved him over to the other room and into the bathtub. "We have to get him warm! He is suffering from hypothermia and frostbite. The transformation has weakened him further." She looked up to Dumbledore. "I'm not sure he will make it."

"He has to! We need him!" Dumbledore looked over to Snape's bed. "We will find out what happened when Severus wakes up. I hope." With a determined look on his face, Dumbledore called some hot compresses to him, and wrapped them around Lupin's neck. Inwardly he cursed. If they lost Lupin because of the short-sightedness of this damned man McDougal, he didn't know what he would do.