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Once things had settled down, life at Hogwarts after the Second Wizarding War looked very much like it had before.
Two staff appointments in particular had the public talking and the Board of Governors arguing behind closed doors. Both turned out to be re-appointments.
The first occurred in mid-July. Remus J. Lupin, looking even greyer and more tired than he had before the war, and leaning heavily on a cane (a curse-damaged leg—everyone knew the story), informed reporters modestly that he had been quite far down the list and had ended up with the post merely because he was "the only one willing" to accept the high risk and low pay that came along with being Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The post itself had already stood empty for three years, as the arrival of full-blown war had forced every class at Hogwarts to shift its curriculum toward defense; and now that peacetime curriculum was returning, few had wanted to test whether the notorious curse on the position had indeed perished with You-Know-Who. Headmistress McGonagall insisted that it was Professor Lupin's widely-sung bravery and heroism that had motivated her to offer him the job, and the public, being quite familiar at this point with war heroes' ritual gestures of modesty, readily embraced him despite some noise from certain corners about the old-news fact that the man was actually a werewolf.
The other controversial appointment occurred two weeks later, as August roared in with a blistering heat wave. Everyone was aware of the possibility once it became known that the old Potions master, Horace Slughorn, would be retiring (for good, this time), but the Headmistress made it official when she paid a personal visit to the last house on Spinner's End to offer Professor Snape his old post back.
The visit lasted two hours. No one knows exactly what was said. When asked, the Headmistress simply said that Professor Snape had accepted and would be returning to Hogwarts in the fall. No interviews were granted.
Public reaction to this appointment was rather more mixed. Though he had been fully exonerated once it became known that he had been acting under Albus Dumbledore's orders throughout the war, Professor Snape's past had nonetheless been dragged into public view and every aspect of it scrutinized, with none too salutary a result. Conspiracy theories abounded. After all, he had committed an inestimably great sin in the public's eyes by being disagreeable, unphotogenic, and clearly uninterested in being liked. Many believed that the evidence exonerating the much-reviled professor had been fabricated and planted. Independent investigations were ordered. Though nothing was ever found, the stigma of public scandal remained, and Snape continued to be the unsightly black smudge on the shining visage of the Heroic Opposition.
Once it was known that the two former professors would be returning to their old posts at Hogwarts, discussion shifted to a new and even juicier subject for gossip: what would occur when the two Wizards encountered one another.
Their enmity was the stuff of song. It had begun, as far as anyone was aware, when Snape had leaked the secret knowledge that Lupin was, in fact, a Dark creature during Lupin's short first tenure at Hogwarts, forcing him to resign his post. It continued during the war, when Snape, still undercover as a Death Eater ('so he says,' the naysayers would mutter), reputedly dealt the curse that crippled Lupin's leg; and after the war, when Lupin testified against Snape in his trial for the murder of Dumbledore. The ugly scene that took place in the lobby of the Ministry following Snape's acquittal made the front page and cover of every major Wizarding periodical (the Prophet: 'Tempers Flair at Trial of Notorious Ex-Death Eater!', the Quibbler: 'Snape vs. Lupin: Personal Grudge or Veiled Assassination Attempt?', Witch Weekly: 'Which Sexy Hero of the Second Wizarding War Do You Side With?') and was the talk of Wizarding Britain for weeks afterward. Naturally, Wizards overseas found Britain's obsession with any trivia related to the defeat of their latest Dark Wizard menace to be a sign of their cultural inferiority.
As the start of the new school term approached, speculation was running rampant about what would happen once Professors Snape and Lupin were forced to share a roof, not to mention a table. Would they come to blows? Curses? Could innocent children be in danger of being caught in the crossfire? Would it perhaps be wise for both professors to undergo a psychiatric evaluation at St. Mungo's to check for residual war traumas? Just who would be keeping an eye on these two, anyway?
The reality, when it came, was naturally far less exciting than anything the public imagination could dream up. During the Welcoming Feast, there was a conspicuous changing of seats, which suggested that the well-publicized hostility had not cooled, but no violence broke out, much to the children's disappointment. Headmistress McGonagall gave no indication that she feared any possibility of untoward behavior from her staff, and tranquility reigned.
As the term progressed, the closely-watched pair of professors displayed no more aggression toward one another than frequent icy glares exchanged at the top table, and the prevailing mood seemed to be one of fragile armistice. They appeared to be co-existing by avoiding one another, and once it became clear that no fireworks would be taking place, the children, their parents, and readers of the many Wizarding periodicals gradually lost interest in them. Life at Hogwarts had, for the most part, returned to normal.
Professor Severus Snape leaned on his fist and allowed his mind to wander from one triviality to the next as he waited for the staff meeting to run itself down. His teacup had refilled itself several times by now, and in addition to the fact that his hands now had a slight tremor, he was afraid if the meeting continued much longer he might be in danger of having an accident. When Minerva said "dismissed" with a curt nod and pursed lip, Severus was out of his chair and through the door before anyone else had stirred, and fifteen seconds later, he was happily installed in the third floor men's lavatory, leaning against the wall and heaving a deep, satisfied groan.
Straightening up as he put his clothes to rights, he was suddenly aware, without having to turn, that he was no longer alone. And judging by the metallic plink that accompanied the uneven footsteps as they approached, he had a fair idea who it was. "Lupin," he announced sourly, still without turning.
"Snape." Plink, step, drag. "I thought we'd agreed to avoid each other."
"And I have been. Avoiding you." He still did not turn around. "I believe I was here first." He kept his voice steady and bland despite the irritating flutter in his stomach. There was something disturbingly off in the way Lupin was behaving today.
"Hmm…I don't know, Snape. Seems you've been…underfoot a lot lately. Like every time I turn around, there you are. Do you think I'm imagining things?"
"Quite likely." Snape snorted. "Though I hope it's me who's imagining you right now, because that would mean you're not really here."
"Oh, I'm here." Plink, step, drag. "I'm quite real." Plink, step, drag. "You won't be able to wish me away…" plink… "quite that easily…" step… "Severus…" drag.
He could now feel the werewolf's humid breath against his neck. He shut his eyes, and for a split second he was back in the tunnel again, the sound of something huge moving in the dark close by, its heavy, sour breath puffing thick across his ear.
"Lupin." His eyes snapped open, and he inched his hand closer to his wand. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"This." There was a quick movement, and he went for his wand, only to have it knocked from his hand and his arm twisted painfully behind his back. In less than a second, he was pinned, helpless, against the bathroom wall.
"Lupin." His voice sounded giddy in his ears. "Let's be reasonable. We're both adults here…"
"Oh, please!" The voice was suddenly savage. "The only time you ever want 'reasonable' is when you haven't got your wand."
Lupin had a point there. He swallowed again, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Heat was creeping up his neck and his stomach was churning with something that wasn't exactly fear. There was something hard pressing into his left buttock and he was pretty sure Lupin kept his wand in his back pocket…
"If you're wondering," said Lupin, "I'm here because you have something that belongs to me and you haven't been very forthcoming in giving it back. I'm hoping you have it on you now…" Hands patted his robe pockets, then circled around to his front. "Ah…here it is." A hand closed on his crotch.
This time, his eyes fluttered shut involuntarily. The heat blooming in his face was part embarrassment, since there was no way Lupin could have missed his cock springing to life under the man's groping hand. It wouldn't do to appear so eager, not with Lupin looking for any excuse to turn things ugly.
"Oh, my." He could feel Lupin's feral smile against his neck. "For me? You shouldn't have, Severus."
"I know that," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Now bugger off, Lupin…before I…" He trailed off in embarrassment. "Well, poor choice of words…"
"Poor choice indeed. I suppose I have no choice but to hold you to them now…" The hand had left his cock and was now hiking up his robes. Snape shivered as cold air touched his bare skin and set the hairs on his legs standing on end. Then he gasped as the robes climbed further and his groin was exposed to the chill.
He now felt grudgingly grateful for Lupin's warm hands on his skin. The callused palm brushed over his hip and came to rest on his belly, fingertips drumming lightly as they inched slowly downward. "No underwear, I see," came the voice, filled with amusement. Then the hand moved behind quickly to cup his arse, the middle finger slipping between the cheeks. "And what have we here…?" The finger gave a wiggle, zeroing in with uncanny precision on his tightly clenched hole and tapping lightly as if asking for entrance. "There's something…something a bit slippery down here, Severus…have you…Merlin, have you prepared yourself for me?"
Snape's face flushed a deep red.
Lupin laughed. "Dear heavens, you little slut, Severus. I'd never have guessed that about you. Oh well, no excuse not to go through with it now, wouldn't you say?"
Snape snarled and put up a sudden, weak struggle, but only had his arm twisted further back for his troubles. He hissed in pain and the pressure withdrew.
The finger between his arse cheeks stabbed inside, gliding on the lubrication, and Snape momentarily forgot to breathe. "Oh, that's it," groaned Lupin, suddenly starting to sound a bit hoarse himself. "Good god you're tight. You sure you've done this before? Wait, don't answer that. I rather hope you haven't, but if you have, I'd like to pretend." Lupin was sawing his fingers in and out now—he'd added a couple—and twisting his wrist every few strokes so that his fingertips raked across that lovely spot inside that made Snape's vision blur and his pelvis feel like it was suddenly aflame. "I'm going to let your arm go now," breathed Lupin, "but just remember where my fingers are if you consider trying something."
As promised, the arm was released, but Snape had no intention of trying anything. His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth dropped open, his whole body rigid with pleasure as Lupin's wicked hand had its way with him. He made a bereft mewl when the hand was suddenly taken away, and Lupin laughed again. "Fear not, Severus old boy," he chuckled, "you'll have it back again in a jiffy, or something better, I daresay." There was the sound of clothing being undone, and something big and blunt and hot nestled itself against his stretched hole. "There we go!" Two hands gripped his hips tightly, and the big cock sank into his arse nearly halfway.
Snape moaned shamelessly, his embarrassment and anger completely forgotten, or at least set aside. Merlin, but there was nothing quite as wonderful as the feeling of being filled by something solid and thick, dragging itself across his prostate with each slide in and out. Lupin pulled back out nearly all the way, then gave his hips a brutal snap forward and buried himself to the hilt, producing a noise from Snape that was upwards of a shriek.
His arm was no longer in danger of being broken, but the entire upper half of Lupin's body was now pinning him to the wall, and Lupin's sickly frailty was entirely deceptive—he was far broader and bulkier than Snape. There was no going anywhere now. He tried to brace himself against the wall with his hands, but his face still mashed into the tiles with every thrust. Part of his brain mused that he ought to be mourning the loss of his dignity right about now…except that he couldn't bring himself to care.
"That's it," grunted Lupin, thrusting hard and smashing Snape's cheek unattractively against the wall, "that's the way. God, I've wanted to do this to you for ages, you arrogant bastard—wanted to shove my cock up your arse and make you taste it, wipe that smirk right off your arrogant face—"
"Less talking," Snape bit out. "More fucking." Lupin complied. "Uhn!" His face hit the wall again.
An obliging hand snaked back around to his groin and took hold of his now rock-hard cock—there was no hiding how much he was enjoying this any longer. Maybe later, he'd care. He thrust his cock shamelessly through Lupin's grip, moaning for Lupin to squeeze harder (though without managing actual words), clenching his arse around the cock that was skewering him, and generally behaving like an absolute whore. Lupin chuckled in his ear and turned his head to nibble on Snape's neck.
"Do you like having my cock inside you?" Thrust. "Do you like knowing I could do this to you anywhere?" Squeeze. "Wherever you are in the castle, I could come up behind you and take you, just like this, for anybody walking by to see, couldn't I?" Nibble. "Would you want them to see, Severus—Minerva and the rest? Would you want them to see your bare arse and your skinny legs and your dripping cock sticking out?" Thrust. "Do you want them to hear you moaning and begging for it like a whore?" Squeeze. "I think you would, Severus. I know I would."
Snape panted and rolled his hips forward, sliding his erection through Lupin's fist. "What are you—on about—you crazy—bastard?"
"It's called dirty talk, you moron." A hard, jarring thrust. "Thought you might like it."
"I do—uhn! I do. That is—ah!—as long as you—leave—uh!—Minerva—out of it!" Lupin's fingers were slick with pre-come now and his grip on Snape's cock was heavenly bordering on painful. Snape closed his eyes and decided not to open them again.
"God I love your arse," Lupin panted against Snape's neck, tongue flicking out to stroke the straining tendon. "And your cock"—he bit down—"oh god I love fucking you"—his teeth pinched the skin of Snape's neck so hard that Snape gave a little cry—"maybe I'll never stop—"
Snape had no warning—Lupin's cock stroked his insides once, twice, and Snape was coming like a thunderclap, shooting into Lupin's hand and against the tiled wall, sobbing and gasping as that thick cock drove into him as hard as ever, picking up speed even as he felt his limbs liquefy and he began to come down.
And then Lupin was coming, sinking his teeth into Snape's cloth-covered shoulder and squashing the slighter man flush against the wall. Snape made an "oof!" sound as all the air was squeezed from his lungs, and when Lupin finally pulled back, they both stood still for a moment, struggling to regain their breath.
Several minutes passed. Snape became aware of how cold the tile was, and the fact that he was going to have a giant red mark on his forehead and cheek.
"Remus…" he grumbled, "this loo doesn't get much traffic, but someone's bound to happen by eventually. Do you suppose we could behave like normal people for once and continue this back in your rooms?"
"What? Oh, of course." Lupin stirred against his shoulder. "You did like this, though…didn't you?"
He rolled his eyes. "What do you think? Though I admit I had some trouble not dissolving into helpless laughter during your evil, mustache-twirling rapist bit. Honestly—'I want to shove my cock up your arse and make you taste it'?"
"Oh, hush." Lupin kissed the shoulder. "You loved it."
"Mmm." Snape smiled.
Back in Lupin's rooms, Snape poured the sherry for both of them.
Lupin stretched his abused leg out on the ottoman and lifted his glass with great gravity. "To gullible idiots the world over, and to newspapers that will print anything."
"Hear, hear." Their glasses clinked. Snape took a sip. "I have to admit," he said thoughtfully, "I'm genuinely surprised, even with my generally low opinion of people, that nobody cried foul on the story about my cursing your leg. I mean, really—people were there. Minerva for one must've seen that it was Bellatrix and not me."
"Maybe she's wise to our deception and is helping us keep our secret," Lupin smiled.
"That would go along with her deciding to rehire the both of us. This really is an ideal arrangement for us—we can be together here without anyone ever being the wiser." Snape grimaced. "Good heavens…Minerva's becoming a matchmaker of positively Dumbledorean proportions."
"Wonder if she sussed out that the testimony was a charade as well?"
"I'd think so. Our story's a house of cards, you know. Once one begins to suspect, it doesn't take a genius to observe that your testimony was discredited and actually helped acquit me in the end."
"Yes…" Lupin gazed pensively into his glass. "Wonder if we shouldn't sit her down and have a talk with her?"
"Not until she begins actively meddling. Unlike Albus, Minerva has a proper sense of discretion. I think it's that priggish Presbyterian upbringing."
"True, true." Lupin crawled onto the sofa and rested his head on Snape's knee. "D'you know, I got an owl from Harry just the other day—he said reporters have been camped outside his flat, round the clock, for two weeks now. Can you imagine? Two weeks without being able to leave his home by the front door." He sighed. "If you ever need a reminder as to why we created this stupid cover story, you need only look at him and Ginny."
Snape's lip curled. "I'm sure he secretly loves it. He can have it both ways, now—Harry Potter, martyr to popularity."
"Well, I'd wager Ginny is less than amused, at least." Lupin sighed. "Do you suppose we'll have to live like this forever, pretending to hate each other whenever anybody's looking?"
Snape began to lightly stroke Lupin's hair. "Of course not. In a while, the press and everyone else will lose interest in us, and we can proclaim our love from the hilltops." He paused and paled. "Er…that was a figure of speech, by the way."
"How long d'you think that'll take?"
"Oh, not too long…" Snape squinted, and hummed. "I'd say…definitely no longer than ten years, tops."
"Ten years? "
Snape smiled. "At the very most."
Lupin scowled, and burrowed into his lap. "You've a dreadful sense of humor, Severus," he grumbled, voice muffled in Snape's robes.
"You adore it. It's one of the things you love most about me, in fact."
"I hate it. It's appalling."
Snape grinned, and leaned back into the sofa. This wasn't so bad, really. After years as a spy, a bit of sneaking around felt normal, comfortable even. He was sure he could handle it for a while more. Especially if it meant being occasionally accosted in the men's room. Yes, he was quite sure he could put up with that for a bit longer.
When all was said and done, life at Hogwarts after the Second Wizarding War looked very nearly like it had before. The school head was still meddlesome and perplexingly all-knowing, and there were still two professors named Snape and Lupin who didn't get along. The only difference was that occasionally, the students would look to the top table and observe that Professor Snape was wearing a small, mysterious smile.