Archive: The Parapet

Summary: The Headmaster forces Severus Snape to spend the Christmas holidays nursing Remus Lupin back to health after the werewolf is attacked by a gang of Squibs.

Spoilers: Assuming you’ve read PoA and GoF as far as the Christmas holidays, there are none. If you haven’t, get thee to it or this story won’t be nearly as meaningful.

Rating: NC-17 for very explicit consensual m/m sex, as well as graphic descriptions of adolescent on child sexual abuse and rape

Disclaimer: I did not create the characters in this story, nor will I profit from my story. JK Rowling and her publishers are the proprietors of the HP universe and its denizens.

Originally posted: Lupin and Snape Slash eGroup, December 24, 2001 to January 6, 2002

Pairing: RL/SS

Warnings: This story contains detailed descriptions of gay male sex, a character’s detailed recollection of having been sexually abused and raped by older boys when he was 11, physical and verbal violence, explicit descriptions of discrimination and a hate crime, and descriptions of sickness and medical treatments (Muggle and wizarding) that might disturb some of you. Caveat lector.

Dedications: As always, this is first and foremost for my three muses: Harry, Elaine, and Angelique. It’s also for my writing partners Shandethe, Roma, and Elaryn, who inspire and encourage me even when they disagree strongly with what I have to say. It’s for the gang at RL & SS Slash, as well, who gave me so much wonderful feedback from day to day while I created this. It would have been far different and far less powerful without your input. All of you are marvellous but especial thanks go to Katzenhai and Hazelnut whose penetrating comments helped shape the dreams upon which I drew in order to write this and to Eline who was the first to offer "Recovery" a permanent home. I appreciate all of you very, very much!

First I had to betake myself to St. Mungo’s to fetch him "home", as if a werewolf could ~have~ a home. I had presumed that would be my entire task, but no. The Headmaster informed me that, because of Remus’s recent notoriety, he could not recover in the hospital wing, where students who remember him from his recent teaching position here might see him.

"What I need for you to do, Severus," he explained in that ever-so-infuriatingly jovial way of his, "is to take Professor Lupin to the Shrieking Shack and stay with him until he’s strong enough to take care of himself."

("Professor" Lupin indeed! We called Remus that last year as a courtesy because he was on staff, but Dumbledore knows as well as I do that the buggering monster can never be certified to teach or made a Master of Defence Against the Dark Arts. You have to be a wizard—or a witch—for that; and. to be a wizard or witch, you must be a human being. The son of a bitch that I’m caring for has not been human since he was three! No werewolf is considered to be a human being; they are all classified as Dangerous Magical Creatures. Albus, of all people, knows that. He is my charge’s legal guardian.)

Which raises the interesting question: Why entrust Lupin’s care to ~me~? As an act of revenge it is brilliant, of course, but it gives me carte blanche to hurt the werewolf in myriad minor ways. At the very least, I can have a pleasant time subjecting him to various humiliating forms of neglect. Of course, he is not much fun to torment at the moment. He is barely conscious a very small percentage of the time—just conscious enough just often enough for the overworked chief Healer on the werewolf ward to have acceded to Dumbledore’s request that his ward be released into his custody.

When he is somewhat present mentally, I spoon a bit of broth or porridge down Remus, get him to swallow some water, change his nightshirt and the bedding, or get him to use the bedpan. Once since we have been in residence I carried him into the tub room and bathed him. The smell of his unwashed body was starting to sicken me. The rest of the time I read books and scrolls from the library that I might not otherwise have had time to peruse. Really my discomfiture is more emotional than pragmatic, though. Caring for my semi-vegetative companion is more of an embarrassment than hard labour.

What surprises me is how little inclination I have actually had to add to the werewolf’s misery. I would be tempted to say that I am feeling merciful because the creature is so buggering pathetic, but that does not make sense! I do not suffer from sentimentality in the first place, and surely I feel no maudlin pity for the very being who conspired with his lover to murder me whilst we were mere schoolboys.

(Lupin and his guardian have always contended that he was not part of Sirius Black’s "prank", though, and indeed was as much its victim as I was. That does not seem credible to me! If Sirius loved Remus—and we all know that he did—how could he have embroiled him in such a dicey plot against his will? Besides, at full moon Lupin wants to glut on human flesh as much as any lycanthrope. Could not his besotted lover have been persuaded to cater to his foul craving? Perhaps Black was ~not~ the author of the prank. And yet I shall never forget the expression of slowly dawning revulsion on Remus’s face when I accused him and Black of plotting to do me in, when I confronted them in the ward where the werewolf was recovering the following morning. Remus Lupin is assuredly a man—rather, a being—of diverse talents, but acting is not part of his repertoire. He would be outed and driven away from the places where he resides far less often, if that were the case!)

No. Oddly, I do not really ~want~ to make him suffer. Well, at least not most of the time! Bath and bedpan duty stirs the occasional fantasy of minor werewolf torture—of slapping him around a bit or, perhaps, merely berating him for causing such unpleasant labour to devolve upon me. Well, I ~did~ lose my temper on one occasion when, delirious, he flung a full bedpan at me. That led to my flinging it back, still partially full, and striking him with my fist a few times, hard enough that my signet ring laid open his cheek. (Which, for reasons unclear to me, I felt the compunction to heal afterwards.) It also led to my having to give him the bloody bath. I have been a good boy since. It reduces odious labour. Besides, barring that provocation, the will to inflict pain upon him has, surprisingly, been lacking. Curious!

More curious still, sometimes I am almost overcome by a disgustingly effeminate tenderness towards him or, worse, the desire to say reassuring words to him or to touch him comfortingly. Appalling! Fortunately he is so seldom aware of his surroundings that, were I to give into the urge, he would not know it. No one would know—except me. But why in the names of all the Gods am I suffering from such bizarre impulses? I have not felt anything save icy anger towards Remus since we were sixteen. What is it to ~me~ that he is half dead from our fellow humans’ cruelty?

(No! ~My~ fellow humans. This thing that I am tending is ~not~ human. I must remember that: He is not human. Then why is it so difficult to remain mindful of his essential lack of humanity?)

(Little boy, if they were still alive, you should hate your parents with all your might! They have consigned you to a fate cruel beyond imagining—all because they did not have the courage to kill you when you were turned. Ah, Remus, you ~were~ human, once upon a time. I wonder: Can you remember something that long ago? Is that why you try so hard to deny that you have become a monster? You will no more escape your fate than Sisyphus will evade his!)

You looked so innocent and beautiful lying there in the big four-poster, seemingly just asleep. You reminded me of the boy that I loved once. Well, had a crush on. Desired. Lusted after. Fair is fair. If you are utterly lacking in humanity, I am devoid of love. A pity that! But as a former associate of mine often says, "Wish in one hand and shit in the other—and see which hand fills up first!"

Had you been human, would I have been capable of love? Probably not. But it ~is~ an interesting fancy—and you cannot begin to imagine how much resentment and bitterness it has given birth to over the years! It is, secretly, a major theme of my existence.

If you were human and I could love… Oh, bugger all! I have not got the time to be romantic, maudlin, ~or~ cynical about it just now. I need to fix us something to eat. The odds are that you will waken briefly within the hour. When you do, you will need food and drink urgently. I can dress you and change the bed without your cooperation. As much as I hate doing so, I can even clean you if you soil yourself. But it is far easier—and safer for you—for me to poke edibles and potables down you whilst you are awake. That way you are far less likely to choke on what I put into your mouth. Less of it trickles back out onto the bedclothes that way, too. I can bloody well muse over our troubles later, at my leisure. I fear that I am going to be stuck with caring for you for many days to come.

The practical thing would be to let him slip away, of course; but his guardian would not care for that one bit, so I am doing my best to keep Remus Lupin alive. Since humans can absorb quite a bit of water transdermally, I decided to treat the werewolf to his second bath of the week—a long, leisurely one during which he can soak up as much moisture as possible into his desiccated system. (And, no, having human skin between changes does not make Lupin human. It simply means that most of the month he shares basic anatomy and physiology with us. I must be careful to remember at all times that I am dealing not with a fellow wizard but with a deadly magical beast!) After he had finished supper, I ran a tub full of water, stripped him, and wrestled him into it. I kept him there until the water cooled to the point that he got goose bumps and began to shiver. Then I fished him out, towelled him off, slipped a clean nightshirt on him, and put him back to bed.

(I have no idea why I bothered with changing his clothing. He is not aware of his personal hygiene at present and he had not yet begun to stink again. It does not matter, I suppose. The school’s house elves get to do the laundry—not me. Why they cannot feed and watch over Remus as well is beyond me, but Dumbledore wants the animal cared for by human hands, damn him! Mine, to be precise.)

Perhaps the bath perked him up, because Lupin was more or less awake for a few minutes after I returned him to the bed. As I was drawing the covers up around him, he laid hold of my wrist. I batted his hand away. That was easy! He does not have the preternatural strength of a werewolf now. Between lack of nourishment and lack of exercise, he has become as weak as a child. When he attempted to grasp my hand, I slapped his away again—a bit harder this time. I could have just stepped out of his reach, I suppose, but I enjoyed thwarting him too much! The third time that he reached for me, I seized both of his wrists and pinned them to the headboard of the bed.

"Do not touch me, werewolf!" I ordered him in my harshest voice.

After a moment he nodded and I released my hold on him. "What do you want?" I asked curtly.

"T’ thank you," he answered in a voice hoarse and unsteady from disuse.

"Yes, well, I don’t ~need~ thanking. Albus put me up to this. Do you think that I care whether you live or die, Remus—much less whether you’re comfortable?"

He was still far too befuddled to answer me and merely gave a little shrug and a slight shake of the head.

"Well, I ~don’t~ care! Remember that and don’t make a bloody nuisance of yourself. Now shut up and go to sleep so that I can get back to my reading."

He shut his eyes obediently enough but whispered, "But i’ feels good anyway, so’m grateful."

Remus Lupin’s gratitude is the ~last~ thing that I want in life, so I backhanded him in the mouth hard enough to split his lip and cause blood to trickle down his chin. He gasped and flinched away from me.

"~That~ didn’t feel good, did it, Remus?" I asked rhetorically. "So now you have nothing to be grateful for. As I said before you so rudely interrupted me, shut up and go to sleep!"

He did not close his eyes right away nor did he speak again. Perhaps he was afraid that I would rain more blows down on him. The Gods know that I would have liked to! Finally he succumbed to sleep, though, and I relaxed into the big armchair I have virtually lived in for the past three days to keep watch over him. Since I dare not wish him death, may Lupin have a speedy recovery. I cannot take much more of this.

After a time I grew ashamed of the blood on his face, so I got a cool washcloth and wiped it away. Do not ask me why I became embarrassed. I had done nothing shameful, merely put a monster in its place. Remus muttered something in his sleep whilst I was cleaning his mouth and chin. I could not understand what—nor did I ask him to repeat himself. I wanted to hit him again but fought down the impulse. Do not ask me why. Mostly likely I simply fear the Headmaster too much to leave livid marks on his ward’s face.

I…I must have gone into a fugue. I remember having absent-mindedly wiped the rest of Lupin’s face with the washcloth, after I had gotten the blood off it. I am not at all sure what I hoped to accomplish by doing so, but I told myself that it was a small indulgence that would do no harm. (The werewolf had, after all, gone to sleep. He had no idea that I was doing anything that might feel good.) Somehow, though, I had begun to stroke his hair and his cheek. That was what I caught myself doing when I came out of my small dissociative state.

I saw to my horror that Remus was smiling softly, for the first time since I had taken charge of him. Enough adrenaline surged through my vessels to make me want to vomit. I dug my nails into my forearms to make myself stop. Stop being nauseated. Stop wanting to bring pleasure to the creature that I had been caressing. I tried to force myself to hit him again, but my hand rebelled and hung in quivering impotence between Lupin and myself.

I made my breathing slow down and otherwise calmed myself. When I was lucid once more, I withdrew to the armchair and concentrated upon the most boring manuscript that I had on hand. It did wonders! I did not think about soothing Lupin or terrorizing him. I successfully put him out of my mind.

That worked until I fell asleep. Sleepers dream. I dreamed that Remus stirred in his sleep, murmured my name, and stretched out his hand to me. I took his hand in mine and sat on the edge of the bed petting him with my free hand and whispering reassurances to him. I woke up—heart pounding—in a cold sweat, wandered into the bathroom, washed my face, and continued out to the kitchen to get myself a goblet of water. As I sipped the water, the nightmare loosened its hold on me. It was not so bad…

For some woolly-witted reason or another, I cannot bring myself to be stern with Lupin. Perhaps I am forestalled by his present physical weakness and neediness. Perhaps I remember certain things concerning the exploitation of my own physical weakness when I was a child all too vividly. Perhaps I am simply a bit unmanned by the saccharine peace-on-earth-and-good-will-towards-men rhetoric of the season, although I doubt that Christmas cheer extends to werewolves! (Some dream of a Golden Age when the wolf and the sheep shall lie down together and the latter shall not be supper, but not even Isaiah imagined werewolves as peaceable companions to any creatures whatsoever—did he?)

Still the moon will not be full for more than two weeks. What harm could it do to let down my guard a bit, since maintaining it is proving so distressing? I would not mistreat a dog. If it whined and whimpered to solicit my affection, I would show it at least a facsimile of caring. I am not ~really~ sure that Lupin tried to kill me all those years ago. I would, perhaps, be under considerably less stress if I showed him a bit of kindness.

And so it was that, when I returned to my chair, I scooted it closer to the bed and took his hand in mine. If he was aware of what I had done, I could not tell it. I reckon I have around three hours to withdraw my hand before he next wakes. Meanwhile, he is sleeping contentedly and I am…thinking.

"WHAT IN THE NAMES OF ALL THE GODS DO YOU THINK THAT YOU’RE DOING?" I bellowed as I sat up, painfully shifting my stiff body back into my chair.

He did not speak at first but neither did he draw away. That worried me. It would not do for me to lose control of our situation! Finally he cleared his throat and answered, "Petting you. Your hair, I mean. I fell asleep to your holding my hand and saying kind things to me; so when I woke up… Well, I thought it would be all right if I touched you, because it felt good to do that—and I assumed that you were enjoying it, too, because you were smiling."

"You both assume and presume too much, werewolf! I told you ~not~ to touch me, didn’t I?"

"Yes," he admittedly sadly, "but…"

"But what?"

"If it was a source of pleasure to us both, what was the harm?"

I wanted to strike him, again and again, for having said that!

"The harm comes later, doesn’t it, Remus? In another fortnight or so when your ‘pleasure’ is to bite and tear rather than to caress. Damn you, I wasn’t willing to be your supper when I was sixteen and I’m not willing now! Nor do I wish to be your companion in perdition. So leave me alone before I decide to hurt you in self-defence." I grabbed him by a handful of his long, fine, greying mouse-brown hair and pulled him to me so that when I spoke again, droplets of my spittle spattered his face. "Do you understand me, you obstinate piece of filth? Leave…me…alone!"

"I understand," he acknowledged, "but I wasn’t going to hurt you, Severus. Not now. Not ever."

"No? And what magic of which none of the rest of us are aware is going to stop you when the moon is full, you idiot? For that matter, why do you ~want~ to touch me in the first place?" I mocked him. "Is my hair so silky and soft that the privilege of stroking it is worth being bawled out or slapped about for? Because that’s exactly what it will cost you—every time!"

He sighed deeply, and the exhalation of his breath ended in a sound like a very small child swallowing down a sob so that the adults will think him brave. "I don’t want to be scolded or struck in the face, thank you very much! I…I get enough of that, as is, Snape. And the most recent dose of it is still ~very~ fresh in my mind. But…" He stopped, hesitated for a moment, thought twice about confiding in me, but finally blurted out, "I was turned when I was three years old. Do you realize how few people have touched me since that night? Or allowed me to touch them?"

I shook my head. "Not bloody many, I should think," I said more sympathetically than I intended to. (What is ~wrong~ with me? Why am I being so stupidly soft?)

Lupin nodded, "That’s right. And I love to touch and be touched." His honey-dark amber eyes burned into mine. "Dear God, Severus! Don’t you remember that about me, from before Sirius put the fear of me into your heart?"

I had not thought about being unafraid of Remus Lupin for over two decades now. Nor did I want to. I silently cursed him, as I searched for something clever to say. Now ~there~ is a laugh! What curse could I possibly utter that would be worse than the one that already besets him? Finally I admitted grudgingly that I did remember.

"I just want that back for a very short while, Sev," he pleaded, using the nickname that he had given me during our sixth year at Hogwarts. "I need it. I can’t explain to you why—or how much—that I need it, but I do. I won’t be a danger to anyone for two more weeks. Can’t you be my friend again? Just for a day or two? I…I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, but I feel like I’m slowly dying, a bit at a time, for lack of human contact. And the feeling has been rapidly accelerating since spring."

He stopped, not wanting to risk annoying me. But I knew what his next words would surely have been, "When I left Hogwarts, despairing and in disgrace."

I dodged the issue. "Somehow I liked you better when you were lying there like a nice quiet turnip, Lupin," I remarked coldly. "I could get a spot of reading done. I didn’t have to listen to your vulgar tale of woe. Although I suppose that I ought to be pleased that you’re recovering more rapidly. You can stay awake long enough now to be argumentative and disagreeable. You can string thoughts together more or less intelligibly. You have the strength to spew them out audibly. Very good! That all means that I’ll soon be let of you, doesn’t it?"

"Severus, please! You told me that you were in love with me, back when we were boys. No one else has ever said that to me," he continued. "Isn’t there…?"

"What did you say just now?"

"That you said that you were in love with me at one time."

"No. After that, you dolt!"

He frowned. "That no one but you ever did, d’ you mean?"

"What about Sirius Black?" I demanded.

Remus shook his head. "He… I never gave him the chance. Before that little prank of his I dreamed that you would be my lover, Sev. Surely you knew that! And after what he did to us… It was months before I was civil to him again and years before we were genuine friends."

"But you lived with him when we graduated, Remus."

"Yes, but…"

"You disgusting whore!" I growled and backhanded him as hard as I could.

This time he did not flinch from the blow or pull away from me. Indeed, he leaned forward and grabbed my wrist. And though his on me hold was still weak enough to have been shaken off easily, the fire that kindled in his eyes was enough to hold me transfixed in his grasp.

"That’s enough!" he protested. "I am any number of things that most wizards think are disgusting. I have never pretended otherwise. But I am ~not~ a whore. God help me, I sometimes wish I were, but I’m not! Sirius Black and I were never more than housemates. He felt bad about my being alone and impoverished and took me in. I’m a forty-year-old virgin, Snape, because I was once stupid enough to give my heart to coward. Werewolves have to get it right the first time, and…"

"I AM NOT A COWARD!"

"No?" he asked with sudden, disarming gentleness. "Then why have you been running from me all these years? I loved you. I still love you. I will ~always~ love you. I don’t have a bloody choice!" He shook his head furiously. "Oh, what’s the use?"

"Wh-What do you want of me?" I asked nervously.

He studied my face carefully before answering. "I told you. Human contact. I need to be touched and allowed to return someone’s touch. Not for long." He laughed, half bitterly, half hysterically. "I can get by with very little affection or I’d have long since gone insane or managed to get myself killed, but I can’t do without it altogether. I know that I’m nothing to you—worse than nothing, actually. The bogeyman. But, to me, you’re my mate. Can’t you remember what it was like to be in love, and show me a bit of love for just a day or two?"

Again I evaded his question. "You’ll need someone with you for awhile longer, and Albus has appointed me that someone. Today is Christmas. If I go up to the castle long enough to arrange something by way of a feast for us, will you stay in bed until I get back?"

"Yes, of course. Thank…"

"I’d ask your word on it, if you weren’t a goddamned werewolf!"

"You have my word on it anyhow, and…"

"I’ll be back soon," I said offhandedly and Apparated from the Shrieking Shack to the gates of the school before he could reply. I am confused. I do not know what I am going to do about his idiotic request.

(I know what I ~ought~ to do. I ought to refuse him outright—and accompany it with a tongue lashing vicious enough to preclude any further importuning on his part. Why, since I know what I ought to do, can I not simply do it?)

As I strode towards the castle, I planned a Christmas feast for an invalid, which would be pleasant enough without making him ill by virtue of its richness. That will keep the pesky kitchen elves busy for a few hours! I also pondered over a surprise or two of a non-comestible nature. That will involve a different set of house elves, of course—but they live to serve, do they not? And, willy-nilly, I gave a great deal of thought to what Remus Lupin had asked of me this holiday morning.

If dealing with the house elves and sundry horny teenagers had annoyed me, my first glimpse of Remus Lupin upon my return infuriated me. Count on him to bungle an assignment as simple as sleeping! He had managed to acquire a large, puffy bruise on the left side of his forehead, with a scabbed-over skin tear at its centre. Had he not been awake and sitting up reading one of my scrolls, I might have thought that the idiot had given himself a serious concussion.

"Hullo, Sev," he began, "I know that I said that I wouldn’t…"

"What’s this?" I inquired angrily, as I set the food basket and packages down and jabbed at the boundary of the contusion with my index and middle fingers.

"Ow! Nothing serious. I just bumped my head…"

"I can see that you bumped your head, you cretin! What I want to know is how did you manage that? You gave me your word, which you implied was good that—despite your affliction—you’d stay in bed until I returned. Had you bloody ~kept~ your word, almost half of your forehead would not be swollen and turning odd colours! What was so urgent that it wouldn’t wait until I got back?"

"You were gone a long time, Severus. I had to use the loo."

"Damn it! That’s what this is for," I shouted, pulling the bedpan from under the four-poster and displaying it to my patient.

Remus regarded it with mild surprise, chuckled, and shook his head. "If you’d bothered to show me that, I’d have used it!"

I threw myself into my armchair with a loud humph. A moment later I acknowledged in a civil tone of voice that his point was well taken. "But how’d you manage to bump your head so soundly," I asked, "simply paying a visit to the WC?"

"I got a bit light headed," he admitted, "and lost my balance. I fell and cracked my head on the wardrobe, which may well be mere oak but ~feels~ as hard as granite."

I nodded. "That would account for the condition of your forehead all right." I drew my wand out, "Time for a bit of healing, I think. Between your brow and what I did to your lip last night, you look like a rather incompetent pugilist."

"Very funny, Sev!"

"Shh," I murmured. "Be a good chap. Hold still for just a moment, and I’ll destroy the evidence. No one will know that you go about getting accosted by armoires and Potions Masters."

He complied and I quickly spoke a healing charm and directed its energy at his injured face. When I was done, I ran my thumb across his forehead and mouth to assure myself that no internal bruising remained. As it brushed against his lips, he kissed it softly and murmured, "Thank you." I immediately jerked my hand away, naturally; but oddly enough I did not feel the impulse to hit him for his insolence.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me?" I demanded through clenched teeth.

He sighed. "As desperate as I presently am for touch, probably quite a few, Sev. Why can’t you find it in your heart to tolerate it for just a little while? I don’t bite—at least not at this time of the month. You know that! What on earth is there to be afraid of?"

"You," I whispered almost inaudibly.

"Why? What possible danger do I present until the moon waxes full?"

There is no way in all the hells that humans have ever imagined that I will tell Remus Lupin the truth, that I stoke my anger and resentment towards him constantly so that its flame will keep the ghost of my love for him at bay. Instead I barked at him in the most hateful voice I could manage (which was nowhere near as strong as I would have liked for it to have been), "You’re a monster every day, Remus—not just when you’re changed. You know the tales of werewolves betraying their loved ones, on any day of the month, as well as I do. I refuse to give you another chance to hurt me!"

Perhaps I managed to speak more harshly than I had imagined, or perhaps he was simply more vulnerable and less resilient because of the injuries from which he is recovering. For whatever reason, he did something that I had never seen him do before. He wept openly, with very little effort to conceal it. At first, that was not too disturbing. True, he had shut his eyes to hold back his tears, so I did not have to gaze into them and become engulfed in his pain. But after awhile he began to gasp…sob…shake with tears, and that ~was~ disturbing! I began to twitch with frustrated longing to console him. Finally, against my better judgment, I sat down beside him on the bed and wrapped my arms around him. I cursed myself for giving into his manipulation, but I did indeed bend to his will—damn him!

We sat that way for a long time. My back muscles were beginning to protest when Remus finally moved away from me and wiped his face on the sleeve of his nightshirt. By then my robes were soaked with his tears, snot, and slobber, too. I absent-mindedly fingered the wetness before I remembered that Healers do not agree as to how contagious a werewolf’s blood and body secretions are when the moon is not at her maximum. I carefully wiped my fingers on a dry patch of my robes but refrained from launching into a tirade against him. I cannot imagine how desperate he must be to have lost his composure in front of me like that!

"Would you like some supper?" I inquired. "It’s been hours since you ate last. Very likely you’ll feel steadier with a bit of food in you."

When he nodded, I dragged the hamper over, pulled out a particularly tempting dish to get us started on, and released its stasis spell. We ate it in silence. When I handed Lupin his main course—a soup that incorporated bits of Christmas roast beef and some of the vegetables with which it had been served in the Great Hall—I asked with feigned indifference if he was feeling better. To my very great irritation, I realized after a moment that I had rested one hand on his knee.

"Yes. I ~think~ so. Yes."

"Seven days then."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Madame Pomfrey says that you’ll be well enough to travel by New Year’s Day, and—as soon as you are—the Headmaster wants you taken to a safe place that he’s found for you, far from the school. I’m to Apparate there with you on the morning of January first and return that evening, if you’re showing no ill effects from the journey. Today is getting long of tooth. That means we have seven more days together. I’ve decided to give you what you want until we part—within reason. Being as how I despise you," I lied, "I doubt that you’ll find the experience very satisfying; so feel free to ask me to stop at any time."

He shook his head. "Severus, it frightened me but I wanted to be touched so much that even being slapped around felt halfway pleasant to me. Whatever you manage will satisfy me." He took my right hand in both of his. "I want you to know how grateful I am. I understand that it won’t be easy for you…"

"Stop babbling," I ordered him. "I told you that I don’t give a bloody damn about your gratitude, werewolf! I have, er, practical reasons for what I’m doing."

He did me the courtesy of not calling my bluff and asking what my reasons might be. I thrust a sweet at him. (We have enough food to continue Christmas feast for another day or two.) "Have a flan. They’re very good. No chocolate for you yet. But I have some for when you’re digestion is stronger. After supper we can read awhile and then it’s more rest for you."

"How long have you been sleeping in that armchair now?" he asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"This is my third day."

"Would you like for me to nap in it a bit, so that you can stretch out on the bed and be comfortable?"

"Blackguard that I assuredly am, I have yet to usurp anyone’s sickbed. However, it’s a very large bed. If you don’t mind, I’ll share it with you for a few hours. I can sleep outside the covers with you under them—and pile a few extra blankets between us into the bargain. I promise that your virginity will remain intact," I quipped self-consciously, before I gave thought to how cruel that sounded.

Remus looked as if I had struck him far harder than hithertofore. He grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and made for the WC, wobbling a bit.

"Wh-Where are you going?"

"Have the bed to yourself, Severus," he announced grimly. "I’m going to curl up on the floor in yonder in this blanket. It won’t be the worst sleeping accommodation that I’ve ever had. Good night to you!"

I laid my hand on his arm very softly, not making any show of restraining him whatsoever. "Listen to me for just a moment. Please?"

He drew a deep breath. "All right."

"I say vicious things to people. It’s a lifelong habit. But I don’t always mean them. What I said to you a moment ago—I didn’t mean it cruelly. Honestly. I was just…embarrassed…and uncomfortable."

"Is that an apology?"

"As close as you’re going to get, I’m afraid. But it comes closer than most I’ve ever made. Keep your bed, Remus. I’ll sleep in the chair."

He shook his head. "Share the bed with me, Sev—but watch your bloody mouth. Fair enough?"

Half an hour later we were both snoring contentedly in the big four-poster. I had positioned myself so that our bodies did not touch, but my outstretched arm allowed me to rest my hand upon Lupin’s back. As I drifted off, I tried hard not to think about what I had gotten myself into. My hypnogogic imagery was, as it has been for many years, of being painfully, horribly devoured by an enormous wolf with eyes the colour of dark-honey amber.

I pulled back the coverlet preparatory to visiting the WC. May all the Gods at once be thanked, the idiot had not "raised the flagpole" for me in his sleep, despite our closeness in the bed—although the earliest stirrings of arousal appeared to be taking place. I, on the other hand, was as hard as the bloody wardrobe that Remus had managed to bang his head upon in my absence. Not to worry! That was doubtless simply an artefact of my urgent need to piss. I tucked the comforter around Lupin securely and slid silently out of the bed. To my annoyance, relieving myself did not cause my erection to subside completely; to my infinitely greater annoyance, returning to the bed amplified it. After a few minutes of sheer frustration, I decided that it was bloody well time for breakfast and padded downstairs to the kitchen.

A quarter of an hour later, I was back upstairs with a tray bearing oatmeal, toast, marmalade, and tea, sugar, and cream. Setting the tray down upon the armchair momentarily, I began to nudge Lupin towards wakefulness. The dimwit tried to roll deeper into the bedding and ignore me.

"Damn it, you lazy lout! Wake up. Your buggering breakfast is ready. You need to be awake and active today so that you’ll rebuild your strength and I can be rid of you by Hogmanay."

Lupin slowly rolled towards my voice. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. A few seconds later he propped himself up on one elbow to regard me and muttered, "’S got to be the most dismal greeting of my life. And how are you today, Severus?"

My hands twitched with the impulse to slap him for his rudeness. Yet I had provoked his response and I knew that I had—and it was fairly mild disrespect, not more than an ironic observation actually. I willed my fingers to relax. Meanwhile Remus Lupin swung his legs off the bed and sat up.

"Mmm. Cat’s got your tongue this morning, I see," he observed cheerfully. Rising he added, "Be right back."

"And where in the Nine Worlds do you think that you’re going?" I demanded.

"Loo. Don’t think you’d care to join me."

Caught off guard by his banter, I laughed. "Indeed not!" I assured him. "I will, however, escort you. It wouldn’t do for you to do battle with any more large items of furniture, would it?"

Remus chuckled. "No, it wouldn’t." He began walking across the room, with me right behind him. To my delight, the wobble that he had displayed the previous night had departed. At the door to the WC he paused a moment and facing me remarked, "By the way, it wasn’t a polite, rhetorical question earlier. How are you this morning?"

"I’ve been far worse, thank you. How are you?"

He smiled and cocked an eyebrow, "The same, thanks," he replied—and stepping in shut the loo’s door before I could say anything further.

After his return we broke our fast. I was pleased to note that his appetite was good. Once we finished the food on the tray, I reached into a pocket of my robes and pulled out a pear for him, which was part of the fruit that the kitchen elves had packed into my hamper. He wolfed—That is, Remus ate it enthusiastically. Licking the last of the juice from his fingers, he asked, "All right, Sev! Now I’m up to discussing wakefulness and an active day. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, first off you get to open your packages…"

"Packages?"

"Yes, you enormous prat!" I hissed impatiently. "Packages. Do you not remember that yesterday was Christmas?"

"Yes, of course, I remember. But… Do you mean that they’re Yule presents? For ~me~?"

"I called them ‘your packages’, did I not? Gods! But you’re being singularly stupid this morning!"

"I’m not used to getting presents. I haven’t since my mum died, Severus."

"Yes, well, if it makes you feel better, they’re not exactly presents. They’re just things you’ll need in your new home. I merely let the house elves know that you required them. They most certainly aren’t gifts from me," I prevaricated. "I wouldn’t spend a bloody knut on your behalf—and don’t think that I would!"

So saying, I pitched the larger bundle at him. He caught it gracefully and pulled it onto his lap to open. A moment later he gasped in surprise. "Sev! There’s a set of winter robes in here. No. Wait. There are ~two~ sets." He buried his face in the top garment. "They aren’t even second-hand! They smell of wool, not of a previous owner."

"I take it that you’re satisfied with them?"

"Yes! Yes, of course. I haven’t had clothes this nice since…since Sirius was arrested." He rose and made to throw his arms around my neck. "Thank…"

I did not strike him, although I wanted to. I did push his arms away from me roughly enough to discourage a second attempt on his part to display gratitude. "You moron! Weren’t you listening to me earlier? They are not presents from me to you. Sun, moon, and stars! Do you really, for a single moment, imagine that I’d spend good money on you? I wouldn’t bundle you up in my cloak if I came across you naked in a snowdrift. Stop pretending that I care about you!"

Remus shut his eyes and drew a deep breath. When he opened them again, he replied (in a faint voice), "But you ~do~, Severus. I can smell your compassion and affection. Don’t you know that?"

Without giving it any thought, I swung on him. Never mind that he was right! I could not bear the thought of his being aware of my deception—or of my feelings. He did not offer a counterpunch or even restrain me; he simply employed his preternaturally quick reflexes to step aside. The buggering bastard is on the mend all right!

I flung myself into the armchair and shrugged. I had no idea what to say to him. How do you lie to a creature that can smell (what is it the Muggles call them?) –that can smell your pheromones?

After a moment of uneasy silence, Lupin inquired, "Shall I open the other one then?"

I nodded, grateful that he chose not to add to my embarrassment by further inquiries about his gifts and my emotions.

"I like both sets of robes, by the way," he remarked offhandedly, as he picked the twine fastening the second parcel loose. "They’re attractive, very practical, and feel wonderful to the touch. I’m thrilled that anyone would give them to me!"

"Mmm."

"A heavy cloak," he announced happily, as he made his way into his present. "And it’s every bit as excellent as the robes. Well, I ~am~ pleased, Sev! I’m glad that the house elves could be prevailed upon to be so generous—and on such short notice, too. What did you threaten them with?"

Again, I laughed despite myself. "Best I not tell you, old chap. We both know what a soft heart beats in that sturdy Gryffindor chest of yours, don’t we? You might be appalled and refuse your presents."

"Uh-huh," he agreed, with obvious dubiety.

"So why don’t you toddle off to the WC and change into your new robes, Remus? It will be good exercise for you and, besides, you’re far enough along in your recovery, I think, that you ought not lounge about in that disreputable nightshirt all day."

Remus nodded. Before he headed for the loo, he asked, "By the way, where did I get this ‘disreputable’, dingy grey nightshirt?"

"I…I brought it from the castle."

He frowned. "I had pyjamas in my travelling case. Why didn’t…?"

"You don’t have a travelling case anymore."

"Oh," he said dejectedly and his misery coloured the single syllable of the word a very deep blue. "It was a gift from my da. It was the last thing that I still had that belonged to either of them. Do…do you know what became of it?"

I sighed. "The filthy Squibs who…who hurt you destroyed everything that you owned, Remus. Burned it. Oh, bugger all!" I exploded. "I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. I wish the Law Enforcement wizard had managed to save ~something~ for you."

He nodded slowly. Although his eyes were bright with unshed tears, he maintained his composure.

"We’ll get you some pyjamas when we’re out and about tomorrow."

"Thank—That’s a good idea, Sev." He gave a great sigh that released some of the tension he had used to avoid weeping. "Well, if we’re visiting Hogsmeade tomorrow, what’s on today’s agenda?"

"Walking around periodically for physical exercise. Playing wizard’s chess for mental exercise. You may have food as often as you want it, your dainty hobbit-like appetite notwithstanding. We can negotiate anything else that you’d like to do. As long as it won’t, in my opinion, lead to broken bones or a concussion, I’m not bloody likely to object. To cap it all off, if you haven’t had any episodes of dizziness, we’ll go down to the kitchen tonight and drink some gourmet hot chocolate made from a mix that I, um, liberated from the Headmaster’s office while reporting on your returning health."

"What about the touching?"

"I’m a man of my word, Lupin. As soon as you’re back from the WC, I’ll start by letting you lean back against my legs as I sit in the armchair so that I can massage your scalp, neck, and shoulders. That will have to do for now, because I find the prospect daunting but…"

"It’s all right, Severus. I release you from your promise."

"NO! What the buggering hell is wrong with you, you perverse…?

"I was very selfish when I wrung that promise from you; so, since it’s all dread and no pleasure for you, I’m not going to hold you to it."

"Oh, you obstinate dunderhead! I never said that it was ~all~ dread and ~no~ pleasure. Did I? DID I?"

"No but…"

"Gods rot your stupid Gryffindor ‘nobility’! I will not be pitied by a werewolf. Do you hear me? You do not get to patronize me. You’re a goddamned werewolf! I do ~not~ have to keep my word to you. If I do, it’s because I want to, monster. Do you understand me?"

Something white-hot and terrifying flared up in his eyes, but he mastered it. "I can’t help but hear you, Snape," he replied, "but sometimes I think that I will never, ever understand you. Why don’t you go downstairs for a while and, when you come back, we’ll both pretend that we never had this conversation? That way, neither one of us will say—or do—anything that we might regret later. And before you go off on me again, my motive for overlooking your vicious display of temper doesn’t involve the least bit of pity towards you. It’s purely self-defence. Werewolves don’t get to attack respectable wizards, do we?"

"I’m sorry," I whispered in a tremulous voice.

"What did you say?"

"I said that I’m sorry. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. When I did it felt like I couldn’t stop myself, but I could have. I am ~such~ a shit! You must hate me."

He sat back down on the bed. "No. You infuriate me from time to time, but I don’t hate you. I love you—just like you love me. And please don’t say that you don’t! I know better…

"It’s… I… Remus, it’s just lust. I lust after you. I’m not capable of loving anyone. Really. Not just you!"

He pointed at his packages on the floor. "You didn’t buy those for me out of lust. I’m not worth that much as a whore, especially one that you’ll never get around to bedding. And you haven’t spent three—four—tedious days nursing me back to health because of your lust."

"Th-That was Albus’s idea."

"And you’ve never defied Dumbledore’s wishes? And you couldn’t have been much less diligent—or even have been surreptitiously abusive—in carrying out the Headmaster’s orders? Bullshit! Sexual desire alone does not explain your behaviour towards me, Sev. Besides, I can smell love ~and~ lust on you. You’re quite a potpourri of emotions, my old friend! And, to be honest, so am I."

I cleared my throat before continuing. "I really haven’t ever said that I won’t get any pleasure from touching you, you know. And, if I did say it, it would be a lie. Can’t you smell the lie?"

"Thoughts don’t have odours, silly! Only feelings do. But, yes, the love and desire were a bit at odds with what you were saying."

"So why don’t you change clothes and come sit here and let me touch you? It’s what we both want—even if it does frighten me half out of my wits."

Lupin nodded. "Very well. I’ll be right back. One more thing before I go, though. You’re an exceptionally brave man. I know your war record. Why are you so afraid to touch another human being?"

I thought about reminding him that he is not precisely a human being, but I rapidly thought better of it. No need to renew hostilities, was there? His lycanthropy is not the primary problem, of course; but I wanted even less to discuss my other inhibitions. I shook my head. "I’m not really prepared to explain that to you, Remus."

He disappeared into the loo then and emerged a few minutes later looking handsome and elegant in his new robes. After I complimented him on his appearance, I spent about fifteen minutes—as promised—giving him a bit of massage as he sat leaning back against me. It was not too bad. I did not have to see his face as we touched. There was one chancy moment, though, when he tilted his head up to look up at me.

"Don’t!" I warned him and he immediately looked away.

We spent the day and its evening as I had described, capping it off with hot chocolate by the kitchen fire. When we came back upstairs and had changed for sleep, I silently lay down beside him in the big bed. He prudently refrained from any comment. I woke up around 2am, not being a sound sleeper by nature. Tonight we were holding one another timidly. My terror—and delight—were both considerable…

Before he could recover from the surprise, I murmured, "Do me a favour, please. Lie there with your eyes shut and listen to me for a bit. Then, if you consent to what I’m about to propose, just nod—and keep your eyes closed. Nod now if you want me to continue."

He did, and also tried to touch my face. I held his hand tightly so that he could not, but I kissed it again as a token of good will. "Not yet," I cautioned. "I don’t want any, um, distractions until I’ve said my piece. If we arrive at an amicable agreement, you can do that to your heart’s desire in very a short while. All right?"

He nodded again.

"Good. Well, then! I know that you would like to be more demonstrative than I’ve allowed thus far, and I myself would like to be more openly affectionate. However, as yet I have a real aversion to having to look you in the eye when we…do these things."

"Why?"

"Damn it, Remus! Hush. You’re as bad as a two year old…"

He said nothing but pulled away from me slightly. To my surprise, I leaned towards him and kissed his brow. "For asking awkward questions, is all I meant. Please honour your promise and be quiet for just a few minutes more. It won’t take much longer!"

He squeezed the hand that had been confining his and kissed me gently where my neck becomes my right shoulder. I sighed and then laughed softly. "You know, appearances notwithstanding, you are ~not~ the most docile and obedient creature on the face of the wide, green earth!"

He shook with suppressed laughter and I smiled. For a split second, I wished that he could see my pleasure over his amusement. I traced the line of his jaw with the back of my hand.

"My behaviour towards you isn’t just the result of my knowing that you suffer from lycanthropy, Remus. I’m abrasive with everyone that I care about—not that there are that many of you! And I feel driven to be very controlling of those I care about because…because of certain things about me, which I’d rather that we not discuss at this time. Add desire to affection and I become even more domineering." I shrugged. "I avoid that by having sex with individuals that I ~don’t~ care about, who by temperament or for money are willing to let me call the shots. Regrettably, as you have pointed out, I both love you and lust after you; and, as I have pointed out, you are not readily given to tractability. In fact, you’re quite the alpha wolf—which I both admire and shy away from dealing with. You will no doubt find this repulsive but I quite enjoyed it when you were so sick and weak, because I didn’t have to treat you as my equal."

He chuckled deep in his throat, a sound so low that I could barely hear it.

"Yes, I ~do~ realize what a sick fuck I am, Lupin!"

"Wasn’t what I was thinking, Sev," he whispered quickly, resting the fingers of his free hand against my lips for a moment to silence any argument on my part. "Go on."

I drew a deep breath to calm myself. I was in far over my head! My heart was pounding and I wanted to flee the room, or to batter my companion into absolute, cowed silence—one or the other. But I knew that neither ploy would get us what we wanted. "I… If you can tolerate this, what would work for me right now is for the two of us to lie here, with your eyes closed and both of us silent, and touch. No sex. Just touching. For as long as you want or as long as I can stand it, whichever comes first. Would that be acceptable to you? Just nod—or shake your head, as the case may be."

For a long moment, Remus did neither. Finally he sighed. "I’ve got to speak, Severus. It’s not a simple yes or no proposition. But I’ll try not to say anything alarming, and I truly don’t want to take your control away from you. May I go on?"

It was ~me~ who nodded obediently, damn him!

"I don’t want another row like we had last night, but are you sure that what you’re getting out of indulging me is worth all that you’re suffering from keeping your promise to me? I want more contact with you, yes; but, as I explained, I can go for a long time on a very small quantity of affection. And you’ve been very nice to me already, Sev, except, of course, when you were being ugly for effect, which—for the most part—didn’t upset me. You… I don’t want to be cruel to you, so whether your proposal is acceptable to me or not depends on whether it’s truly worth it to you."

"Bugger all! Is that Think of Others First at All Times shite of yours a matter of breeding, or is it just a bad habit that you picked up whilst in Gryffindor?"

He snorted with amusement. "Contrary to popular belief, I do ~not~ think of others first at all times. You, of all people, should know that! As for how I came to be empathic, which is what I think that you’re referring to, it’s a side effect of being a werewolf, actually. Actively identifying with the feelings of others keeps me out of no end of hot water."

"I’ve known very few empathic werewolves, Remus. In fact, you’re unique in that respect."

He smiled. "Which is very likely why I’m unique in having lived to be such a very ~old~ werewolf."

"You’re not that old! I’m not old yet and we’re classmates."

Lupin chuckled, "Werewolf time is… Oh, what did that Muggle say? Relativistic. It’s like being in a whole other world. It’s very relativistic—betwixt and between, as my ancestors would have said. To get back to my original concern, though. Are you sure that you’re getting enough out of our little transactions?"

"I’m positive."

"All right then. Yes. I’ll be a good boy and play by your rules—up to a reasonable point. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough."

And we fell silent and began, tentatively and fitfully, to express our feelings for one another by means of touch. I will not pretend that it was altogether comfortable—or easy—but it had its rewards. It reminded me of a very brief period, when we were fifteen, when Lupin and I realized that we were passionate friends who loved one another—but were too naive and inexperienced to know that we were falling in love.

(Holy Gods! What a sentimental fool I can be. Why is it so damnably hard to act without feeling? If Lupin could be bought, or had for a night’s hard drinking, or enjoyed being dominated… But then he would ~not~ be someone I loved, would he? Then again, why should I want to love anyone? From what I have seen, love is always…a disappointment. And frequently it is a dismal prison for both lovers, as well. Surely we are better off without it!)

About half an hour later Remus announced, "I’m going to open my eyes now, because I want something to eat—and my nurse would pitch a bloody fit if I descended the stairs with my eyes shut, wouldn’t you?"

I laughed and nodded, and his eyes met mine in time to see my agreement.

"Would you like me to bring you breakfast in bed this morning?"

"I thought that I was the nurse around here."

"True. But you told me yesterday that I needed to exercise body and mind so that you can pop me off to wherever promptly and be rid of me."

"Remus, I’ve said many stupid things to you these past few days…"

"True enough! But encouraging me to be active is not one of them. So… May I bring you breakfast in, say, half an hour, since I’m still somewhat muzzy headed and moving a bit slowly?"

I took his hand in mine and pressed it. "Yes, please. That would be quite pleasant."

He gave me not just a smile but The Smile, which I remembered vividly from our youth, and got about making breakfast.

After breakfast, we planned our trip into Hogsmeade.

"I had wondered how you were going to conceal my identity while we roam the village," he acknowledged. "Since you’re an expert potioner, I thought perhaps you’d give me Poly Juice Potion."

"Gods, no! Have you ever seen or smelled Poly Juice Potion, Remus? Downing a whole goblet of it in your present condition would cause you to throw up your toenails—I promise! It’s scarcely less disgusting than Wolfsbane Potion. And its effects only endure for an hour. We couldn’t get much done. You’re of more or less average height and build. A light glamour will suffice. I can lay it upon you easily and reinforce it as needed, inconspicuously. I’ll avoid vexing those fastidious ethics of yours by introducing you to people as my Welsh friend—which you are—although I can’t bloody well say that your name is Remus."

"Thank you."

"For not using your rightful name?"

"No, silly. For saying that I’m your friend."

"It’s the truth, isn’t it? I hardly deserve credit for telling the truth, Lupin!"

"In this instance you get credit for not concealing the truth—and you do ~not~ wish to belabour the point with me, Sev," he added with a slow, wicked smile. "As for what to call me, would you mind using ‘Julian’? It’s my middle name. But no one this side of the Clyde knows that, other than Dumbledore."

"Very well! Julian. So we know that we want to visit a leatherworker, a clothier, Honeydukes, and—to cap it all off—the Three Broomsticks. Is there anything else that you’d care to attempt today?"

Lupin shook his head. "I hesitate to do that much."

"If it will overtax you, we can put some of it off till tomorrow."

"It’s not that. You shouldn’t spend so much money on me, Severus. You’re not a rich man."

My face burned deep red. I am not fond of being reminded that my family has come down in the world, its pure blood notwithstanding. I counted to ten—twice. Remus waited for me to do so with exasperating patience. Why does he have to say personal things to me? Slowly the urge to slap and scream passed. Everything was fine. The dunderhead was not being contemptuous. He was trying to be considerate. He does not mean me any harm, whether of body or mind.

"It’s not my money that we’re spending today—except for at Honeydukes and the tavern. Albus sent along funds for me, to provide for you with."

"But Sev. You already bought me the robes and cloak. It isn’t fair…"

"Goddamn it, you arrogant cretin! You’re allowed to have more than two sets of robes and a cloak to your name. And the Headmaster and I are both entitled to be generous towards you, if we bloody well please. For your information, you pigheaded numbskull, Albus gave me money to spend on you ~after~ I’d asked his permission to put his house elves to work on making your cloak and robes on Christmas Day. You still need boots, socks, pyjamas, sundries, and a new travelling case, just for openers. By next week you’ll need pots and pans, dishes, flatware, and something to drink from—not to mention groceries. Why d’ you have to be so bloody proud about accepting them? And not that it’s any damned business of yours, but I have enough savings to get a few things for you. Eleven months out of twelve my room, board, and medical expenses are free of charge—and I have a buggering expense account! "

"I...I wasn’t trying to be proud. Honestly. I just feel guilty to be a grown man and take so much and give back so little, all right?"

"Oh, I do ~not~ believe you! St. Remus the Obdurate. I’m not going to tell you that you give a great deal back to all of us, Lupin! Find some other fool to do that. But I will spend my money as I damned well please. If you don’t care for my gifts you may burn them, throw them onto the nearest rubbish heap, or give them to the recipient of your choice. Just do not presume to tell me that I can’t bestow them upon you in the first place!"

"Severus, you just managed to insult me at some length without ever once alluding to my lycanthropy!"

"WHAT?" I gave it a moment’s thought. "Bugger all! I did, didn’t I?"

He nodded contentedly. "Yes, thanks."

"Thanks?"

"For making progress."

I sighed. "The problem has never been just, or even mostly, your being a werewolf, Remus."

He smiled and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I know. I’ve known that for years, Sev. But I’ve despaired of your ever admitting it."

I returned his kiss and mumbled, "I think we’ve said enough for the moment. If you’ll wrap your arm around my shoulders or waist and be very still, I’ll Apparate us to our first stop. There’s no need to overstrain you your first day out."

He stepped close and passed his arm around my middle and we were off to Hogsmeade’s bootery and learthergoods shop. Half an hour later we had acquired a new travelling case for my companion and gotten him measured for a pair of boots to be delivered on New Year’s Eve.

"Do you think that you could possibly have terrorized old Hobson more, Snape?" he asked with more amusement than irritation.

"Oh indeed, Remus! I was just warming up when he caved in on me. I could have gone ~much~ further, if I weren’t such a kindly old fart of a wizard."

He rolled his eyes. "I do believe that I’m going to be ill soon, from the reek of bovine excrement wafting in from the left of me. You are such a shameless fibber!"

"Not me!"

"You." He paused. "Set my bag down for just a moment, would you? I want to see if I’m up for doing magic yet at all. Levitating it shouldn’t take much energy."

"Are you sure that you should do that?"

"Yes. Yes. I promise not to drop dead on you, Nurse—or even swoon."

I set the travelling case onto the ground with a dry laugh. A moment later, in response to Lupin’s outstretched hand and incantation, it rose a foot or so into the air and dutifully drifted down the street just ahead of him. We made for the men’s wear store. About halfway there, Remus reacquired his wobble and the bag crashed to the ground. I grabbed him by the elbow to steady him.

"Well, at least I didn’t swoon," he announced with ill-concealed dismay.

"No, but it was a near thing. I’ll take that now, Julian, if you please," I said briskly and hoisted his travelling case back into the air. "Do you need to lean on me for support?" I asked before we resumed our walk along Hogsmeade’s high street.

He shook his head and took two or three unsteady steps forward. After frowning a moment, he nodded and came close enough for me to help him maintain his balance.

"Change of plan," I told him. "We’re having a spot of tea at the inn first, and then I’m going to Apparate us into Herrington’s Emporium for Wizards."

He nodded and off we went. Herrington’s was the most difficult stop, because Lupin had to try on or inspect several items of clothing—although it did not require too much effort to make it clear to our still pimply young clerk (a Slytherin who had graduated two years earlier) that The Gentleman Requires a Chair. Honeyduke’s was our longest stop. Remus has had an ongoing, open affaire with chocolates of every kind for years; I have a more surreptitious craving for hard candies and toffees—especially butterscotches and horehounds. As at Herrington’s we stashed our loot in the travelling case. Otherwise the bag would have looked like a planet in the midst of multiple satellites had I gone down the street levitating so many small packages around it. Lupin was walking smoothly again by the time that we left the candy store, so I concluded that continuing down the block to the tavern would have a salutary effect upon my convalescent friend.

Following a reasonably satisfactory supper (I only sent one dish back to the kitchen and Remus did not protest my doing so), I returned us to the Shrieking Shack and we put everything away for the night. Then came the moment I had been dreading for two days. I still cannot believe what came of it, but I am more content with the outcome of my audacity than not.

I had made us a pot of tea. We were sharing it amicably. It would have been easy to chat awhile longer, read a few minutes afterwards, and take our rest. But I was haunted by Lupin’s account of getting unwittingly trapped in his virginity and still somewhat ashamed that he had, momentarily, accused me of cowardice. It seemed worthwhile to put a few questions to him.

"Remus, are you quite certain that…that you have to have sex with me, if you’re ever going to—you know—have relations with anyone? I mean, there’s not a counter spell or some way of redirecting your attention or anything else that you could try, is there?"

He smiled but his eyes momentarily clouded over with melancholy. "Sev, I shall always love you—but I never wanted to be celibate. If I could have been with anyone else, I long since would have been."

"But there are lovers who would be so much better for you!" I protested.

"Possibly. But when the choice was mine to make, I chose you; and now I can’t unmake it."

"Do…Do you hate yourself for having chosen a coward? Do you hate ~me~?"

He leaned across the kitchen table to kiss me on the lips. "Forgive me, Severus. Please? Sometimes I say hateful things that I don’t really mean, too." He sighed. "You’re not a coward. I... It’s just that occasionally I get confused in my thinking and believe that you owed it me to give us a try. After you knew. But you didn’t. And you don’t."

"If you had the choice, and you were certain that neither would harm me, had you rather stay a virgin or…or…or…?"

"Let go of it, Sev. You can’t even say it!"

"YES, I CAN!" I forced myself to bellow. The ensuing silence was overwhelming. Both of us sat paralysed. Finally I asked in a surprisingly firm voice, "Remus, I am woefully inadequate to the task, but would you like for me to make love with you? Or would that merely make a sad state of affaires worse?"

He sat in stunned silence for a full minute. Finally he answered in a small, trembling voice, "No. Not worse. No. Severus, you’re not joking with me, are you? That would be a very, very cruel prank. Almost as ugly as Sirius’s."

"I know. No. I’m not having you on. Does…Does your not wanting it to be a joke mean that you would, perhaps, like it?"

"Oh, God! I’ve waited more than half my life. Yes, I would like to at least try. What have I got to lose?"

"Your fantasies? All hope? I’m not sure. But have a care, Lupin! I don’t want you to hurt yourself on me."

"C-Can you d-do it without b-being unk-kind t-to me?" he stammered.

"Actively cruel, you mean? Yes, I can promise to refrain from hurting you. I’m sadistic when that’s what my partner wants—but it’s not a compulsion. You obviously do not wish to be mistreated in any way. Mind you, I may think a disgusting thought or two whilst I do the deed; but it’s easy enough for me to keep them to myself." I laughed bitterly. "You’ll never meet a more private man than me, Remus. But I cannot promise to bring sex and affection together for you. I can be loving before and after I get us both off, but during? I’ve no idea! Not a clue. I meant what I said before about choosing partners that I don’t care about and having to run the show. I’ve never been in love with anyone but you, so this is terra incognita for me, too. And I still have to be in control—even with you."

"How do you mean?"

"I want you to be quiet, keep your eyes closed, and not touch me—the first time, at least."

"F-First time? This might happen more than once?"

I smiled and caressed his cheek. "Possibly—if we both enjoy it. But I’m not going to have a full-time affaire with you or anyone else. How do you feel about that?"

"Certain truisms come to mind. About half loaves, and beggars and choosers…"

I put my left hand behind his head and drew him into a kiss. "I’m so sorry that you have to settle for a half loaf, Remus," I said as I released him, "or be a beggar. If I had understood that you were falling in love with me—or what that entailed—I would have spurned you so hard and fast that you’d have been free to direct your libido elsewhere."

"That was my choice and my responsibility, Sev. I was very young and somewhat foolish, but that doesn’t put you in the wrong."

"So do we want to do this thing?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Why don’t you go on up to the bedroom then, put on your new pyjamas, and slip under the covers? And I’ll be along as soon as I’ve put the tea things away."

Very shortly thereafter I found myself upstairs, stoking the fire to keep the cold of the snowy night at bay and lighting candles by which to enjoy the sight of my soon-to-be lover’s body. Lover. I’d never had one of ~those~ before! Only bed mates. Remus lay very still beneath the covers of our bed and kept quiet as I bustled around the room attending to various amenities. Hopefully that was a good sign of things to come.

When I was done, I sat beside him on the edge of the bed, bent to kiss his forehead, stroked his hair, and took his hand in mine. He smiled but kept still and quiet.

"Cat got your tongue this time, pretty? There’s no need to be so passive just yet. In fact, I forgot to ask you something out in the kitchen. There are those who find it tedious to keep their eyes shut, not speak, and be still. Would you like a blindfold? Or a gag? Or for me to tie your hands?"

"NO!" Panic danced wildly in his beautiful eyes and he pulled away from me just a bit.

I released his hand to remove any sense of physical constraint but continued to run my fingers through his hair.

"There’s no need to be frightened, Remus," I said a bit stiffly. "I don’t even do those things to prostitutes unless they’re willing. I certainly won’t do them to ~you~."

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were bright with tears. "I…I feel foolish. My intuition tells me not to be afraid of you—and I’m not really, but…"

"But what?"

"I’ve spent too much of my life tied up or shackled or caged or sedated. I hate it, Sev!"

I groaned. "I wasn’t thinking! I won’t ask that of you then, all right? Just forget that I asked."

He shrugged and gave me an edgy half-smile. "The blindfold doesn’t sound bad. I’ve had muzzles put on me when I changed, but no one ever used a hood." He gave a small, tight, bitter laugh. "I don’t think that it bothers the average wizard or witch overly much what a werewolf has to look at when the moon’s full, however disgusting or dismal it might be. A blindfold would help you because it would assure you that I wouldn’t look you in the eyes—which you really seem to hate…"

"I don’t hate it. I just find it difficult to look anyone in the eyes without pumping myself up for it, and especially during sex."

He nodded. "And it would help me," he continued, "because, frankly sight is not my preferred sense. I like touch, smell, and hearing far better. What would you use?"

I pulled a silk scarf out of my pocket. Lupin gave a small laugh that was almost a nervous titter. "Are you a boy scout or a Don Juan, Sev?"

"Droll! Neither," I answered. "~My~ preferred senses are sight, smell, and touch. I keep pleasant-to-touch items on my person for when I want to pamper myself. The students’ opinions aside, I am not a pleasure-hating prude."

Remus chuckled. "No. You’re not."

I covered his eyes with the scarf momentarily but did not tie it. I let one "tail" of it drape over his shoulder onto his chest. "Let me show you something. I’m going to use a slipknot. When the blindfold’s in place, you can remove it at any time by reaching up and pulling the end. That way, you don’t have to claw at it blindly and get it tangled in that cascade of long hair that you’ve got. Just look away from me if you have to open your eyes—please?"

"Fair enough."

"If you start babbling tripe, can I silence you by kissing you or by resting my fingers on your lips?"

"Tripe?"

"You know. I’m talking about nonsense like ‘I love you’ or ‘God, you mean the world to me!’ that people spew without meaning whilst in the throes of passion. Getting fucked or sucked off makes people mindlessly euphoric…"

Remus laughed. "I should certainly hope so!" he remarked.

I went red and fought down the impulse to make war, not love. Finally I nodded. "True enough."

Lupin sighed. "I was laughing about my own expectations, Severus. I ~want~ to be ‘mindlessly euphoric’ from what we do in this bed—for a few seconds, at least. For that matter, I would like to tell you that I love you when I come; and I would mean it, too!"

"I know that you would," I acknowledged quietly. "For the record, I can help prolong the euphoria for more than a few seconds and I’ll do so. And if it means so much to you, you can tell me that you love me. Once. But I don’t want to hear it every five seconds for ten minutes. And don’t expect me to tell you that I love you—because I won’t!"

Remus cocked an eyebrow. "I wouldn’t dare," he replied in a mildly ironic tone that made his point without wounding my oft-times prickly ego, "I try not to ask too much of life. That keeps me sane."

"One last thing, so that you don’t drag any masochistic Gryffindor bravery and nobility into this. I do ~not~ expect you to lie there and suffer silently. If you change your mind or you want to stop for a few minutes or you don’t like what I’m doing to you or it hurts, buggering tell me. I won’t verbally abuse you or stalk away angry. I do not want you to be an idiot about this, Lupin, all right?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready to start then?" I inquired.

"Yes." And Remus lapsed back into stillness and silence.

"Sit up a moment so that I can blindfold you," I instructed.

When I finished, I gently lowered his head to the pillow and began to kiss his face and throat. After a minute or two his body began to relax and he began to smile. I set about unfastening his pyjama top, kissing his collarbones as they came into view. As my hands continued to work on the buttons, his breathing got shallow and rapid. I quickly stole a look at his groin. His gasping obviously was not from desire. By now he was shivering a bit, as he fought down the impulse to withdraw.

"Damn it, man! Remember your promise. What’s wrong? You can tell me."

"I…I… You don’t have to do that to have sex with me, so why not leave it on and kiss me some more and then you can take my bottoms off and you can do whatever you want to me?"

"Remus, have you taken utter leave of your senses? First off, that would not be a very romantic way to lose your virginity, and whilst I am not a romantic, you most assuredly are. I’m willing to indulge that up to a point. You’re, well, very sweet and sensual when you’re feeling romantic. I like that. Second—and perhaps even more important—you told me that touch is a favoured sense of yours. I’m trying to uncover two nipples, a belly button, and, if I’m lucky, a somewhat hairy chest and abdomen. If you’ll let me, I daresay that we’ll both have more fun." I frowned at the thought that occurred to me next. "Are you afraid that I’ll do something painful, like biting you till I draw blood or pinching you till you’re bruised? I have no intention of doing that! And if I do stimulate you more than you like, just say so."

He lay there silently.

"Goddamn it!" I swore impatiently. "Will you please tell me what’s wrong?"

(~I hate having sex with virgins! ~ I thought ~I haven’t done so in over a decade now—with good reason. Their pliancy is inevitably outstripped by their anxieties. So here I am with a 40-year-old celibate. Help me out, Lupin! ~)

"I’m embarrassed," he started off unhelpfully, stating the bleeding obvious. "I should have said something before we began, but it’s nothing that I care to talk about. I… Can I sit up a minute, unbutton my top, and show you myself? This is honestly something that ~I~ need control about. Once you’ve seen, if you still want me, I’ll go back to keeping quiet and not touching. I promise."

"Yes, of course. Let me help you sit up."

His hands shook as if palsied whilst he undid the buttons, and he clutched the fabric of the top to him desperately the whole time that he struggled with them so that I could not see an inch of the flesh beneath it. When the final fastener had been released, he slowly opened the garment. I understood at a glance what he was afraid of. Gay men—wizards or Muggles—can be viciously judgmental about physical imperfections. (For that matter straight men are hard on women’s blemishes, too.) And Remus’s torso and upper arms are a patchwork of silver-white scars, old and new, large and small.

"Take your blindfold off," I told him.

"Please go downstairs first. I…I should have known. But I don’t want to see the revulsion on your face."

"There ~is~ no revulsion on my face, sweet. I respect your preference not to discuss your scars; but, in return, I want you to watch me kiss them and touch them—and your nipples and your belly button, too. And, by the way, I like your fur, little wolf. I shall quite enjoy rubbing my cheek or my own chest against it."

He gave in and tugged at the tail of the scarf. I helped slip it away from his eyes. When he opened them he gasped, because I was gazing into them.

"Don’t panic. I never promised not to look you in the eyes, nor did you ask me to. If you want the blindfold back later, you may have it; but it’s enough for you simply not to initiate eye contact with me—all right?"

"Yes."

"Here we go then," and I started again from the top, kissing his face, his throat, his collarbones, bare skin scarred and intact, nipples, navel. And I stroked, fingered, lightly scratched, and fondled where I was not busy tonguing and kissing. After awhile his breathing grew heavy again. However, he was flushed rather than pale this time; and when I reached down I found, to my delight, that he was getting hard.

"I’m going to slip your bottoms off now," I announced and, when there was no protest, I did so. The moment his pelvis was exposed, his hips jerked upwards. I rested a hand on each of them and leaned close to his ear, "Do you like for me to look, Remus?" I whispered. "Does it please you to know that just the sight of you makes me hard—and that I want to touch and smell and taste everything I see?"

He made a delicious whimpering sound and nodded.

"Gods! You’re beautiful," I acknowledged. "You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen." He hips thrust upward again and I could not praise his randiness enough. I breathed a litany of his perfections into his ear. "You’re an absolutely exquisite slut, darling—the most wonderful, perfect slut in the world. And you’re the epitome of whores. I want to take you over and over again till you scream yourself hoarse and, even as big a whore-slut as you are, you’re satisfied."

His body quite liked my pillow talk, but Remus’s mind was not ready for me to commend him for his unbridled sexuality. "Wh-Why are you calling me ‘wh-whore’ and ‘s-slut’?"

I laughed. "Certainly not because you literally are one! In fact, if you were, I would never say so—unless you asked me to. It’s just hyperbole, really. I wanted you to know that I think you’re gloriously wanton and uninhibited. But you’re talking too much. There are things that I’d rather do with my mouth than assure you that you’re not immoral. Want to shut up now and let me? And may I use more hyperbole later?"

He moaned as I brushed my hand lightly over his cock. "Yes and yes," he panted.

"That’s a sensible fellow," I observed—and launched into a five minute "attack" on his genitals. When I came up for air, I purred, "You need to decide what you want me to do to you rather quickly, my precious! You’re getting excited enough to have an accident."

"Decide?"

"Indeed. Snape’s Law is that every virgin gets what he—or she—wants the first time round. To do otherwise would be…vulgar at best and criminal, in the worst case. So what’s your pleasure? Getting buggered? Being fellated? Coming in my hand—or between my thighs? Mixed treat? What’s your heart’s desire, my wicked little slut?"

"You…you don’t want to know my heart’s desire, Severus."

"Try me! I’ve enjoyed how you’ve whored with me so far, haven’t I? And, if I don’t want to do what you suggest, I promise not to scold you, if ~that’s~ what you’re afraid of. We’ll find something we both like." I dangled the scarf in front of him playfully. "Scout’s honour, poppet."

"I…I want to get buggered in a face to face position, so I can kiss you and touch you. In the best of all possible world’s I would open my eyes as I came and tell you that I loved you—just once, of course. A promise is a promise! It’s just that…well, that’s been my main fantasy all these years, although I have others that you’d no doubt like better."

I rested my fingers on his lips to quiet him for a moment. Smiling and shaking my head, I observed incredulously, "Your favourite sexual fantasy is to visualize my ugly face and tell me that you love me as you attain release? Ai, Lupin! You ~are~ a sick fuck."

He immediately blushed a furious red, the colour of a dusky rose’s fresh petals.

"I’m just joking," I explained rapidly, before I could manage to ruin what was happening. "If I help you get into position, will you be all right with sitting astride me? That’s the only face to face that doesn’t feel claustrophobic to me."

"Yes."

"Good. And you’ll keep your eyes closed until your orgasm arrives?"

"Yes."

"That sounds do-able. For now, I want you to roll over on your stomach. That’s the most comfortable position that I can use to loosen you up a bit before I allow you to fuck us both senseless. And for the love of all the Gods at once, let me know if what I’m doing hurts you."

"Yes, Sev. Will you ~please~ stop worrying so much? I’m not fond of pain. If you hurt me, you’ll be the second to know and that rather promptly!"

. I did not hurt him—not once. Lupin liked what I did to him well enough that I felt a momentary pang of regret that my hands are so large and long fingered. Likelier than not, my lover would adore getting fisted.

When we were both thoroughly drunk with desire I sat him atop me and gave him a moment’s coaching. I doubt that he needed it. He was very good at riding me first slow and easy then hard and fast. I stroked his cock to a complimentary rhythm. Apparently years of masturbation fantasies were close enough to practice to make him perfect. As we drew near to our climaxes, I urged him to, "Come, you fabulous whore, you shameless slut, you insatiable tramp! I want you to spill your cum all over me, now." When that did not happen, I knew what he wanted to hear, of course. Well, what would be the harm? It was not even a lie, really. I drew his head down to me and told him softly as I continued to stroke him. "You’re beautiful, Remus, very beautiful with your face flushed with passion. Let go now so that I can feel your cum on me and mine in you. I love you."

And then his eyes opened wide in astonishment and I felt his cum gush onto my belly, warm and sticky, and his muscles bear down on me until I joined him in the scintillatingly mindless void that is orgasm. And to my scandalized delight my mantra was, "I love you, I love you, I love you…" What a delightfully guilty pleasure that was! (~Well, if he mocks me for the rest of our lives it will be worth it~ I thought ~as long as we do this again from time to time! ~)

Once my wits began to return and I could capture enough breath to drive a sentence, I tugged at his arm and asked him to lie with his head on my shoulder. "It’s obvious that you’re not going to faint away, but there’s a certain creature comfort to snuggling—unless, of course, it would seem childish to you."

He rolled his eyes and huffed and placed ~his~ fingers against ~my~ lips. "Severus, hush! I’d like to snuggle. Truly I would." He slid gracefully to my side, bending down to kiss my lips as he did so. "I was a bit more oblivious than I expected to be when the moment arrived." He gave me an impish grin. "You’re definitely more satisfactory than my hand." He stroked my face and gave me another kiss, then added, "And I love you, too. Do you know yet if we’ll ever get to do this again?"

I laughed until I howled and coughed and ached with the force of it. "Ever? How about doing it again as soon as we wake up?"

"Oh, my! Yes. That would be very nice, Sev."

We had closed our eyes and been silent a few minutes (but he had not begun to snore), when I felt that I had to break the less than perfect news to Remus.

"Love," I whispered, relishing the weight of the word upon my tongue, "I want to be your lover, but…I still don’t want to go through some stupid ceremony with you or live under one roof. I…I hope that doesn’t hurt your feelings."

"No. Not in the least. I never imagined that you would, actually. I never even imagined that you would tell me that you love me. I had just…well, I had dared to hope that sex with you wouldn’t be ~too~ unpleasant."

"Was it? Too unpleasant, I mean."

"Of course not, you great silly loon! It was beautiful. It far exceeded my expectations."

"Which were none too high."

"Well, no. But that only goes to show that I’m not the best judge of character in the world."

"You’re very kind, Remus. But then you always were. That’s one reason I liked you when we were boys, although it scared me off a bit, too."

"I know. To get back to what you asked, I’ve been telling you for days that I can get by on very little affection."

"You…you don’t have to now. It won’t be an everyday thing, but I have more than crumbs of affection to give you." I laughed ruefully. "More than one fuck to give you in 25 years, too!"

"I sincerely hope so, Severus," he deadpanned with a mock solemnity that matches my own. "But your patient is tired. Can we sleep a bit?"

"Yes, of course." And we did, quite contentedly.