Work Text:
you don't have to move
5th September 1977
Potions Classroom
"Severus, if you would partner with Mr Lupin, please," Professor Slughorn's jovial voice sliced through the soft scratch of Severus’ avid note-taking in his copy of Advanced Potion Making .
Glancing up at the professor, Severus saw the apology etched into Slughorn’s face. It was to be expected, really. The Head of Slytherin didn't want to assign one of his Snakes, one of his Slugs - the boy set to become the youngest Potions Master in Britain - to spend his final year next to a Gryffindor. Least of all that Gryffindor.
Remus Lupin. The silent Marauder. The one member of the quartet who didn't hex Severus directly but stood by, always watching, as they made his life a misery.
Seversu released a silent sigh of resignation, and stalked towards the desk Lupin was already seated. He resisted the urge to shove his seat to the furthest edge of the desk, and instead sank onto the stool to begin methodically preparing his area. He positioned his pristine, pewter cauldron - washed by hand not by spell - exactly fifteen centimetres from the table edge, and placed the flame directly below the centre of the cauldron.
Professor Slughorn spent the next few minutes assigning a Slytherin student to their Gryffindor counterpart, giving an apologetic glance to each and every one of his snakes.
"Today, you will brew the Elixir to Induce Euphoria with your partner. I’ll be observing your practical skills for this potion, and there will be a theory test next lesson. The instructions are on the board, now begin!"
Severus spared a withering look for Lupin, who was still fussing with his robes, and rose to collect his ingredients. He had mastered this potion the year previous to prepare for his first apprenticeship exam, so he was confident that any issues with the potion would not be his fault. It wasn't a particularly difficult potion; however, it did have numerous colour-changes, which could potentially ruin the potion if brewed incorrectly.
Gathering the required ingredients, he was pleasantly surprised to discover Lupin had taken the initiative to retrieve a scalpel and cutting tile. Not a complete imbecile, then. Severus laid the ingredients on the bench, and returned to the equipment station to retrieve his own cutting tile and scalpel.
Lupin opened his mouth - most likely to say something insipid.
Severus cut him off.
"Listen well, Lupin,” he began, voice clinical. “I know we abhor one another; however, I would appreciate it if we left any antipathy outside the classroom. I will not let it compromise my brewing.” He glared at the Gryffindor.
Lupin silently nodded.
“Wonderful…Now, if you would please slice the shrivelfig in half, and then dice the wormwood, I will handle the rest."
He immediately turned away, and began efficiently slicing the castor beans. From his peripheral, he saw Lupin pause and then reach for the scalpel.
At least he follows directions.
A few minutes passed in this quiet fashion, until Lupin broke the silence: "The water's boiling. Shall I add the shrivelfig?"
Severus glanced beneath his fringe at the boy. "No, it is not needed yet," he murmured.
He reached for the sprig of peppermint he had collected as an additional ingredient from the cupboard.
When he made to place the plant in the cauldron, a hand snapped around his wrist stopped him.
"What do you think you are doing?" Severus hissed, his sharp tongue dripping acid. "Unhand me this instant!"
But Lupin was no longer looking at what was in Severus' hand. He was staring at the slither of skin revealed by his shirt pulling taught - at the scars.
Severus dropped the peppermint into the cauldron, lips curled in fury, and yanked his sleeve down.
"Ah, an unorthodox idea Mr. Snape," Slughorn boomed from across the room, his eyes warily dancing between Severus and Lupin, "But ingenious! Through the addition of peppermint, you've counterbalanced the occasional side effect of nose-tweaking and excessive singing. 10 points to Slytherin for your ingenuity!"
"Thank you, Professor," Severus answered smoothly,leaning across the desk to grab Lupin’s sliced shrivelfig and swiftly added them to the cauldron. The potion swirled, shifting red to turquoise.
"I'm sorry," Lupin murmured, handing over the castor beans to Severus. "I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I just didn't know what the peppermint would do. I thought-” He paused. “I thought you were sabotaging the potion.”
Severus allowed himself a sneer. "Of course I knew what it would do. I have brewed this potion before. I am one of the youngest Potions Apprentices in recorded history. I would never spoil a potion for petty revenge."
Lupin mumbled something Severus couldn’t catch.
The potion turned a faint orange colour. Time for the wormwood. This was the most delicate stage of the process.The precise amount of wormwood had to be added - too much and the potion would turn the potion dark green and trigger a bad case of hiccups that would last for days.
With precise control, Severus added just enough to tip the color to mellow yellow and then swiftly and vigorously stirred to the correct consistency.
"Please bottle it, Lupin." Severus requested, rising to clean the equipment.
When he returned, Remus hesitated. “Severus,” he began, then corrected, “Snape…I’m going to try to get the others to stop teasing you.”
When he returned, Remus hesitated: "Severus," he began. Severus leveled a fierce glare at the Gryffindor.
Remus quickly backpedalled. "Snape," he amended, "I’ll get the others to stop teasing you," he whispered so that only Severus could hear.
Confusion passed across Severus' face at the words, but he quickly replaced his expression with one of disdain.
"And why, pray tell, would you do that? I have nothing to offer in return. And I very much doubt this isn't some prank orchestrated by Potter and Black."
“It’s not!” Lupin insisted. "I don't know how I can convince you, but…I’ll try." Severus was surprised at the genuine emotion he could hear in Lupin’s voice.
"I would have done so sooner, but I guess I didn’t realize how far it had gone. When I saw the scars, I just…”
"Stop," Severus’ voice cracked like a whip. Fixing his furious onyx gaze on the Gryffindor, he leaned in close. "I do not slit my wrists, Lupin, you imbecilic moron! I am neither pathetic enough nor so maudlin to take my own life. I am no coward. If I am to die, then I will go down fighting, dragging whoever was stupid enough to kill me down into the deepest depths of Hades with me."
"But then how do you explain the scars?" the Gryffindor persisted, and Severus wanted to snarl at the pity shining in his amber eyes.
"I do not have to explain myself to you," he hissed, eyes blazing with blistering fury. "I have many scars, Lupin, and none of them are due to your insipid little gang of idiots. I have survived worse than them. And if you had a shred of dignity, you wouldn’t ask how.” A smirk stretched across his face as he said his next words “After all, I don’t ask how you got yours, do I, Wolf-boy? ”
Then without further ado, Severus turned and swept out of the room, his robes flaring behind him.
you don’t have to speak
Same day
Seventh Year Boy’s Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower
Several hours later found Remus Lupin pacing up and down the thread-worn carpet of the Gryffindor Common Room. The rest of his day had passed by in a haze - the colours blurring, voices muffled. Seversu Sanpe’s smirking face lurked in every thought, occupying his attention.
Remus paced the common room, his boots whispering against the threadbare carpet. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but he barely registered the warmth. His eyes were unfocused, his jaw tight.
He knows.
His stomach twisted. He pressed both palms against it as if it could stave off the pit of dread gnawing through his insides.
"How does he know?" he whispered, barely audible.
"What was that, Moony?" Sirius called, not looking up from his exploding snap pile.
Remus flinched. "Nothing," he replied quickly, the lie slipping from his mouth before he even registered it.
He turned toward the fire, letting its flickering flames dance across his face. His teeth found his bottom lip, worrying it raw. Snape knows about my Furry Little Problem . The thought pulsed behind his eyes, relentless.
None of the other Slytherins had even hinted at knowing. Maybe - just maybe - Snape hadn't told anyone else.
Maybe he wouldn't.
James barrelled through the doorway, windblown and flushed from practising aerial manoeuvres, broom slung over his shoulder. “Oi, Moony! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Remus blinked, slow to react. “I’m fine.”
James squinted at him then shrugged, and flopped into an armchair beside Sirius, who was now building a new precarious tower of cards. Peter scurried after him, perching on the edge of the bed, eyes flicking between James and Sirius as they started a new game.
Remus didn’t move. His boy was still but his mind reeled. Snape’s voice echoing the word Wolf-boy slicing through him like a blade.
He knows.
And yet… he hadn’t used it. Hadn’t weaponized it. Hadn’t told a soul.
"Hey James, did you hear about Snivilus' parents?" Peter’s loud cut through the quiet.
Remus glanced at Peter, then at the others. Sirius snorted. James tossed a card without looking.
Remus frowned. Are we really still calling him that? The name felt childish now - petty. No wonder Snape called them imbeciles.
"Nope," James said, finally glancing up. "Why what happened?"
"They died, that's what.”
Remus stopped breathing.
“What?!” James and Sirius straightened in their seats, cards forgotten.
Peter looked delighted to have their full attention, and gleefully recounted how he learned about this fact, giggles escaping his mouth when he clocked how surprised the other two Marauders were.
“But that’s not all,” he whispered, leaning forward with lips stretched taut with menace. “They didn’t just die. His dad killed his mum, and then offed himself!”
James’ jaw dropped. “Bloody hell…”
Sirius scoffed, folding his arms tight across his chest. “Why’s he even back at school?” he sneered. “I always knew he was a heartless twat but he’s walking around like nothing happened.”
"Yeah, that is pretty bad.” James muttered, though his voice was distant - muffled beneath the roar of blood in Remus’ ears..
The scars.
The memory slammed into him: Severus recoiling when asked about them, the flash of anger, the silence. The way his sleeves always covered his wrists the first few weeks back from holidays. The haunted stare that lingered too long.
We never saw it. We didn’t want to.
What has he lived through?
Peter kept talking, voice rising with excitement. "I heard that he was a drunk that spent all his money on booze. She was a witch but didn't-"
Remus found his voice.
“That’s enough.” His words cut through the room like a hex. His voice was calm, but firm. The air crackled around him with tension.
Sirius blinked. “What?”
Remus stepped forward, eyes locked on the others. “Snape’s parents are dead. You shouldn’t be gossiping about it like it’s some juicy bit of drama. It’s cruel.”
Silence fell. Even the fire seemed quiet.
Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus didn’t let him.
“And you,” he continued, voice rising, “have no right to judge his relationship with his parents.
A flicker of something passed over Sirius’ face - confusion, maybe, or guilt. Most likely confusion.
Remus felt it then: a sharp, bitter satisfaction erupting inside his chest at finally voicing Sirius’ hypocrisy. The words had clawed their way out, finally. He’d watched Sirius conveniently overlook the pain of others while drowning in his own and expecting compassion.
And suddenly, the truth hit him like a gust of icy wind.
Sirius and James were just two privileged purebloods riding the coattails of their family legacies, and abusing their status and power to belittle those beneath them.
Then a forbidden thought - one he’d been fending off for years - emerged from the depths of his soul.
He’d simply lucked out.
That first train journey, when Sirius had laughed at his name and James had offered him a Chocolate Frog, he’d clung to the offer of friendship like a lifeline. If they hadn’t taken to him, he would’ve just another name on their list of targets.
He saw it now, clear as day: the way they mocked others with careless ease, the bruises and scars left behind in their wake. And he had laughed. Not always. Not loudly. But enough.
He’d laughed at their jokes. Ignored the bruises they left behind. All to keep his place.
He’d told himself he was different. That by not joining in, he was innocent. That silence was neutrality.
But it wasn’t.
His silence had been a nod. A shrug. A quiet permission.
Every time he looked away, he’d helped build the stage they performed on.
I traded integrity for belonging.
James looked up, startled. “Moony, what are you on about?”
“We’re nearly adults,” Remus said, straightening his spine. “We can’t keep acting like we’re twelve.
“But we’re still at school,” Peter protested. “We’re allowed to mess around.”
“Yeah!” Sirius added. “It’s just Snivellus. Why do you even care?”
Remus inhaled slowly through his nose and fixed them with a glare. “Because you’re better than this. Or at least, I thought you were.”
Sirius recoiled slightly, eyes narrowing with something like betrayal. “Why are you siding with Snivellus ? Did he do something to you in Potions?”
James leaned forward, brow furrowed. “You were pretty pale after Potions. It looked like you were shaking. If he hurt you… Merlin, I’ll hex him into next week.”
Strange that you weren’t worried enough about that until now.
"Enough!" Remus barked.. "Snape didn’t do anything. He didn’t insult me. He didn’t even raise his voice. He was civil - more civil than I’ve ever seen either of you be.”
"We don't need to be civil to him. He's a Snake," Sirius muttered.
Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Time to engage in a new tactic.
"We’re adults in the eyes of the Ministry,” Remus began to explain with far more patience than he ever thought he possessed. “And you two want to be Aurors. Do you think they’ll hire someone with a reputation for bullying classmates even during their final year? Honestly, you two, grow up."
That landed.
James and Sirius exchanged glances, realisation dawning across their faces.
“Bloody hell,” Sirius exclaimed, shooting James a sheepish grin. “We nearly scuppered our chances.”
“Merlin’s saggy tits, you’re right!” James wore an embarrassed expression for a second until he suddenly brightened. “Maybe Evans will finally talk to me as well. She said she likes mature men. And what’s more mature than leaving ol’ Sniv - uh, Snape alone?”
Sirius grimaced, but Peter piped up. “We could still prank him. Just be sneakier about it.”
Sirius frowned in distaste but Peter piped up gleefully: "We can always prank him still, we just have to be sneakier about it.”
Sirius immediately perked up at the suggestion.
Of for pity’s sake…
Remus fixed them with his sternest look. "No. We stop the pranks entirely. Besides, if the pranks continue, everyone will know it’s you - even if you do it on the sly. No one will believe anyone else had a hand in it."
The other three Gryffindors groaned but nodded, conceding to their voice of reason.
“Curse our signature style, eh Prongs?” Sirius elbowed James in the ribs, with a playful wag of his eyebrows.
“It’s a curse, Padfoot,” James declared, flopping dramatically onto the bed with one arm gracefully draped across his face. “To be so blessed with creative flair.”
Peter chortled at their repartee, clearly entertained.
Remus didn’t smile, but he allowed himself a quiet breath of relief.
Now Severus can finally get a moment’s peace. And maybe, just maybe, the Marauders will grow up.
lips for biting
20th October 1977
Corridor in the dungeons
Remus stared at his essay in shock. He hadn't expected that a month of partnering with Snape in Potions would impact his grade this drastically. Somehow, despite the insults and icy silences, he’d picked up the meticulous rhythm of Snape’s brewing habits, from the precise cauldron set-up to the way he crushed ingredients with the flat of the blade, not chopping but bruising them into submission.
Not to mention, the regular correction delivered with the grace of a sharpened scalpel.
"No, you imbecile. You must pay attention to the tempo. The recipe clearly states three clockwise turns, staccato. Staccato, Lupin - meaning abrupt, disconnected. So, one turn. Wait a breath. Two. Three."
Snape swiftly executed the manoeuvre with his usual flair, turning his own potion into a perfect lavender hue that contrasted with Remus' dark blue attempt.
"Now wait for the temperature to reach 75 degrees." A pause and then "Not like that. Honestly, I thought you had outgrown your dunderheaded tendencies. Use the glass thermometer to detect potion temperature."
A pinch of the nose as though the weight of Remus' incompetence was physically painful."That charm is reserved solely for magizoological use."
And then oddly - jarringly - came his backhanded compliments.
When Remus chose to stay after class to re-brew his failed potion in silence - Snape lingered behind as well. No insults. No instructions.
Only, eventually:
"The scent is correct this time. And you haven’t set anything on fire - miraculous." A pause, dry but oddly soft. "You’re irritatingly persistent. Most would’ve given up. But you, it seems, are too noble to quit."
Remus’s hand twitched over his cauldron. Was that… almost a compliment?
"And yet," Snape continued, straightening with his usual air of melodrama, "Your stirring technique still resembles a crup trying to dance."
He didn’t correct it though, Remus noted. Just turned away with the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth.
Even stranger were the rare occasions of thoughtfulness.
Remus was busy preparing the ingredients for the next brew. Fingers moving with careful precision, manoeuvring the blade so each slice was even and exact. He had fallen into a steady rhythm with Snape by his side, the silence between them not
Remus was busy preparing the ingredients for the next brew, fingers moving with careful precision, the blade gliding through roots and leaves in clean, deliberate strokes. Snape stood just to his left, close enough that Remus could feel the occasional brush of a sleeve, the faint scent of clove and parchment that clung to him.
He reached out for the next ingredient, and found it missing. His hand hovered, fingers grazing the wood of the desk in futility for a couple more seconds, before he paused and stared at the empty space.
“‘You’ll need gloves for that ingredient,” Snape instructed, his voice low and unreadable.
Remus glanced up. His artemisia, its silvery-green leaves curling slightly at the edges, were clutched in one of Snape’s hands. In the other, a pair of dragonhide gloves, that were extended towards Remus.
Remus blinked, caught off guard.
“Well, take them then,” Severus snapped, all but thrusting the gloves against Remus’ chest.
He scrambled to grab them, his fingers brushing Severus’ in the exchange. For a moment, neither moved. The contact was brief, but it lingered like static in the air.
“Artemisia,” Severus murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to graze Remus’ ear. “or to call it by its more common names - wormwood and mugwort - has been known to burn the skin of lycanthropes.”
Remus froze, the gloves half-on, half-off. The words weren’t cruel. They weren’t mocking. They were careful. Protective.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of Severus’s expression - something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. It wasn’t disdain. Nor pity. It was something quieter, almost tender.
Remus wasn’t sure when he’d started anticipating those moments - the rare flickers of approval and kindness veiled in thorns. But somehow, they had begun to matter. Enough to influence his brewing. Enough to keep him lingering near the dungeons during his prefect patrols.
He told himself he was just passing through, but his feet betrayed him, lingering near the classroom door like something unsaid was pulling at him. He glanced around, half-wondering if Snape was lurking nearby, ready to sneer about "borrowing other people's brilliance." But the corners were quiet.
Pulling the essay from his satchel, he frowned, tracing the neat poison-green "Outstanding" scrawled across the parchment. It wasn't that he resented the mark - he just didn’t know what to do with the feeling that it was only possible through outside influences.
The door to his left creaked open unexpectedly.
Snape stepped out, robes billowing like smoke, gaze sharp and then, faintly surprised. They locked gazes for a beat, before the intense eyes glanced down.
Remus started, hastily stuffing the essay back into his satchel. His fingers fumbled at the clasp, suddenly all thumbs.
"Your essay was exemplary," Snape said, as if the words pained him.
Remus' head snapped up at the statement. He blinked. "You read it?"
"Slughorn has me marking some of his classes." A pause. "Yours was the best I have read in a long while."
Something fizzled in the space between them - like a potion reacting to a new ingredient. Not explosive, just… quietly transformative.
Remus swallowed, unsure whether the tightness in his chest was pride or discomfort.
“I suppose I should thank you,” he said, voice low. “Though it feels undeserved.”
Snape tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You assume your improvement is accidental?”
“No,” Remus admitted, glancing up. “But I’m not used to… being good at this.”
Snape stepped closer, his tone losing its edge. “No-one wrote that essay for you, Lupin. That detail, the structure. That’s all you.”
Another beat passed. The quiet between them felt charged.
"If you are thanking me,” Snape murmured, “do it properly. Don’t mumble like you’ve been forced at wandpoint.”
Remus offered a faint, crooked smile. “Thank you, Severus.”
Snape blinked at the use of his name. Something unreadable flickered in his expression. Then, just as quickly, he composed himself.
“I expect you’ll continue improving,” he said. “Or I shall be forced to mock you for regressing.”
“Wouldn’t want to deprive you of that joy.”
The corner of Snape’s mouth twitched again. “Indeed.”
He turned toward the corridor, robes whispering behind him, but his hand paused briefly on the doorframe. His voice came quieter this time, almost reluctant.
“There’s something…” he began, then shook his head. “Never mind.”
And then he was gone, swallowed by the dim corridor beyond.
Remus stood there long after the door closed, parchment still in hand, wondering how something so small could feel so significant.
you're staring me down
29th November 1977
Hogwarts Library
The library was hushed, the late hour wrapping everything in a soft, golden stillness. Torchlight flickered across the edge of innumerous bookcases, casting long shadows that danced along the stone walls.Remus and Severus sat tucked into a secluded alcove, surrounded by stacks of books and half-finished notes.
Their project was complete, but neither had made a move to leave. Instead, they’d drifted into their own assignments, working individually but sharing the same space.
Severus sat at one end of the desk, parchment spread before him, brow furrowed in concentration. He began rereading his speech aloud, his voice low and deliberate, each word weight like an ingredient. His eyes flicked sideways and then rolled when he noticed Lupin idly doodling along the edge of his essay draft - vines, flowers, and what looked suspiciously like a cauldron with spider legs.
Severus frowned as he stumbled over the wording of one of the passages. He parsed out a few variations of the passage, and swiftly retrieved his quill to reword the paragraph.
“Do you think my potion’s instability was more from the lunar influence or the age of the leech juice?” Remus asked suddenly, breaking Severus’ concentration.
Snape looked at him, surprised. “You actually want my opinion?”
“I want to get it right,” Remus said, earnestly. “And you’re better at this than I am.”
Snape blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. He cleared his throat.
“It was the lunar cycle,” he said slowly. “The old leech juice certainly amplified the instability, but it started due to the lunar phase you brewed it in. That potion is most stable when brewed on a full moon.”
They shared a significant look. Remus’ secret hanging between them.
“But you brewed under the gibbous moon,” Severus continued. “which has different energies and intentions than the full moon. When the moon is fully illuminated there is heightened energy and power, making it ideal for your potion. Instead, you brewed during the waning phase when the lunar light diminishes. So your potion lacked the potency required to bind the ingredients properly.”
Remus nodded, scribbling notes with quiet focus. “Makes sense.”
Severus leaned back slightly, warming to the subject. “People think potion-making is an exact science, but it’s more subtle than that. Rules can be bent under the right circumstances if you understand the nature of the ingredients and the intent behind the brew.”
He tapped his quill thoughtfully. “Potion-making isn’t just instructions with carefully calculated deviations, though. There’s an art to it. Different potioneers have their own methods - like brushstrokes in a painting. Distinct, personal. Slughorn’s nausea-relief brews, for example, are subtly different from those sold at Slug and Jiggers. His are paler, with a hint of mint. You can taste the difference if you know what to look for.”
Potion-making isn’t just that though, there’s an art to it. Different potioneers have their own methods that can be as distinct as a signature on artwork for those who know how to look. Take Slughorn for example, his nausea-relief brews are subtly different from those from Slug and Jiggers - both in colour and flavour.”
Lupin stared at Severus, eyes wide, with something close to awed. He resisted the urge to shift in his seat under the attention.
“You’re really good at explaining this.”
Snape blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “Was that a compliment?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Remus said, smiling faintly as he returned to his doodling.
Severus watched him for a moment longer, then turned back to his parchment. But the corner of his mouth twitched just slightly.
.
.
.
Severus rolled his neck, trying to ease the stiffness that had settled in his shoulders after spending too long hunched over the desk.
Glancing up, he caught Lupin watching him.
Severus frowned, instantly self-conscious. “What?”
Lupin looked away quickly, but not before Severus saw something flicker in his expression. Curiosity perhaps?
“Nothing,” Lupin said. Then, after a beat: “Your eyes, they change colour depending on the light. I always thought they were black like coal, but they’re not, They’re…like storm clouds. A deep dark grey with something underneath. Like lightning or…” Lupin trailed off, as if the rest of the thought was too fragile to speak aloud.
Severus shifted, the compliment, or whatever it was, unsettling him more than he cared to admit. “I didn’t know you noticed. Most people think they’re black.”
Lupin gave a small shrug, still not meeting his gaze. “I notice things.”
The silence between them stretched, fragile and deliberate. It felt like something suspended in the air. Like a thread pulled taut between two weavers who didn’t yet know what they were making.
Lupin finally met his gaze. “I notice things,” he repeated. “Well, at least I’ve been trying to recently. Especially the things most people overlook.”
That struck something deep. Severus studied him, the quiet lines of his face, the way his expression held both weariness and warmth.
Severus looked down at his ink-stained fingers. “And what do you see in me?”
Lupin hesitated, then nodded. “I see someone who’s always bracing for impact. Someone who’s learned to expect pain before it arrives. “I see someone worth noticing.”
Severus’s breath caught. He looked away, jaw clenched. “Don’t romanticise me,” he said, voice low but edged. “I’m not some tragic figure for you to study.”
Lupin didn’t flinch. “I wasn’t.”
Severus glanced at him, expecting the usual placating smile, the soft retreat. But Lupin’s gaze was steady and resolute. Somehow more disarming than pity would’ve been.
“I was admiring you.”
Severus blinked. “Why?”
Lupin tilted his head slightly, considering. “Because you’re brilliant. And because you carry yourself like you expect no one to see you. But I do.”
Severus looked away, throat tight. He didn’t know what to do with that kind of honesty. It wasn’t flattery. It wasn’t manipulation. It was just…truth.
Before he formulated a response, Lupin abruptly stood, packing away his belongings and spelling his books to return to the shelves. “Anyway, I should head off.”
Severus watched him, the sudden movement jarring after the stillness they’d shared. The quiet between them had felt like a thread, now it was fraying.
Lupin slung his bag over his shoulder, avoiding Severus’s gaze. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Severus didn’t answer. He simply nodded, barely perceptible, as he watched Lupin leave.
And then he was alone.
The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the familiar, comforting solitude he usually wrapped around himself like a cloak. This silence felt…unfinished. Like a sentence left hanging mid-thought.
Severus stared at the empty chair across from him, the faint warmth still lingering in the cushion where Lupin had sat. He didn’t know what Lupin saw when he looked at him. Not really. But for the first time in a long time, he wanted to find out.
.
.
.
An hour later, when Severus rose to depart, he spotted something out of place. On the floor, lay a single sheaf of parchment. Forgotten? Or perhaps left behind deliberately .
It was scrap from Remus’ essay, the margins filled with his usual doodles. His lips quirked at the imagination behind a rather elaborate sketch of a moon wearing spectacles, floating above a sleepy-looking werewolf curled up with a book.
The ink was smudged in places, as if Remus had drawn it absentmindedly while thinking. There were tiny stars scattered around the edges, and a broomstick tangled in vines that spelled out a word Severus couldn’t quite decipher.
There was something disarming about it. Not childish, but…unguarded. A kind of softness he didn’t associate with a Marauder, least of all one who had every reason to be hardened by life.
I shall return it to him tomorrow.
Moving to fold the parchment, he realised there was more art on the back of the parchment. Flipping it over fully, he paused.
A simple sketch of a figure seated at a desk, surrounded by books. He had a hooked nose, a furrowed brow, and quill in hand. The torchlight softened his hard edges.
Severus’ fingers brushed the edge of the parchment. He should return it. Or toss it. It wasn’t important.
But something about the sketch held him still.
He stared at it for a long moment, then folded the parchment carefully - not creased, not crumpled. Just enough to tuck it into the back of his notebook, behind a page of potion notes. No one would see it there. No one would know.
a glance makes me weak
19th December 1977
Hogwarts Library
Months blurred passed in a flurry of parchment, potion fumes, and stress for Severus Snape. The snow had been falling thick and fast for the past couple of weeks, blanketing the castle and muffling footsteps and thoughts alike. The Yule holiday loomed just days away and Severus had chosen to remain at the castle.
The Dark Lord had extended an offer to stay at his manor, calling Severus his not-quite-legal ward with an unsettling affectionate ease. Even though the Dark Lord was one of the few who truly grasped what Severus had endured, the Dark Lord’s kindness - if indeed it could be called that - left Severus uneasy. Gratitude didn’t outweigh the desire for solitude and Severus had no desire to impose on the awe-inspiring wix.
They had met earlier that Summer. Or rather he should say, the Dark Lord rescued Severus from his parents' home. He couldn't remember much of that night, he remembered attempting to heal himself from his father's last beating by using the ancient ways, and then pain like he had never felt before. Fragments of what followed surfaced only in flashes: jagged pain, flickering vision, the steady voice of Voldemort guiding him through the completion of the healing ritual.
Severus turned a page with a soft sigh. His sleeve slipped, revealing pale, silvery scars etched along his arm like echoes of old battles. Glaring balefully at the sight, he roughly yanked the cloth down. Apparently, the scars were too old for magic to remove, so Severus resigned himself to their companionship for the rest of his days.
There was only one mark on his skin that he rejoiced in seeing - the ink-black emblem etched into the pale flesh of his left wrist. The Dark Mark. A symbol of his allegiance to the Dark Lord. It pulsed faintly under his skin, a constant whisper of his magic.
The Dark Lord had been reluctant to allow him to join his ranks at first. Severus was too young, still a student and untested. However, after a swift demonstration of his extensive potions talent and formidable duelling prowess, the older wizard finally conceded.
He was ensconced now in the quiet alcove, fingers absently brushing the edge of his sleeve, feeling the mark beneath the fabric like a secret heartbeat.
"Are you still hiding here, Sev?" a cheery voice asked.
Severus scowled at the younger Slytherin. "Regulus, I do not currently detest your presence; however, should you continue with that ridiculous nickname, I shall have no choice but to eviscerate you."
A warm chuckle only met his declaration, as the youngest boy in the Black family tapped his friend on the nose. "Oh, lighten up, Severus. How can you be this snarky? Gryffindor lost to Ravenclaw yesterday! The world’s practically perfect!"
An eyebrow rose into Severus' hairline. "Is Quidditch the only thing your life revolves around, Regulus?"
A solemn nod met his question. "Yes," he then tilted his head to the side as if lost in thought. "Well…That, the Dark Lord, and annoying my brother.”
He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Speaking of which, I noticed Sirius hasn't been harassing you lately. It's mightily suspicious. I would ask him about his motives, but…Well, you know, how strained things are between us, don’t you?"
Indeed Severus did. Regulus was the perfect pureblood heir - polished, obedient, steeped in tradition. The exact antithesis of Sirius, who resented the ancient ways. He recalled Regulus’ first year, when he still worshipped the very ground his older brother walked upon.
Now, he barely spoke of him without bitterness.
Severus didn't voice this, however, only gave the younger snake a terse nod.
Regulus leaned against the stone wall beside him, his voice softer now. “Well, I shall keep an eye out on him. He never does anything kind without anything in return - the real question is just what has stayed his hand.” He snorted. “And he says he hates Slytherins - hypocrite.”
Severus studied him. There was something brittle in Regulus’ smile now, something that hadn’t been there before.
“Thank you .”
Regulus waved him away. Moments passed in peaceful silence, Severus watching the flicker of torchlight dance across the damp stone. Regulus still leaned against the opposite wall, uncharacteristically quiet, gaze fixed on the floor.
“Severus,” Regulus’ voice wavered. “Have you ever… liked someone you weren’t supposed to?”
Something rattled within the hollow of Severus’ chest at Regulus’ words. He dismissed it, instinctively. A phantom echo, nothing more
Severus blinked. “Define ‘liked.’”
Regulus gave a short laugh, but it lacked humour. “Not the childish kind. I mean the kind that makes your chest ache when they speak. The kind that makes you furious with yourself for wanting them.”
Regulus’ words lingered, threading through him like smoke. The kind that makes your chest ache when they speak.
He thought of Lupin.
Not deliberately. Not consciously. But the image surfaced anyway - Lupin leaning over a book, brow furrowed in concentration, voice low and steady as he explained something Severus had pretended not to understand just to hear him talk. The ache wasn’t sharp. It was quiet. Insidious. Like the way Remus sometimes looked at him - not with pity, not with disdain, but with something gentler. Something dangerous.
Severus shifted in his seat, irritated by the sudden tightness in his throat.
He didn’t want to think about Lupin. Not like that. Not in the way Regulus was describing. That kind of wanting was reckless.
He wouldn’t be dragged down that path.
He refused to think of Lupin.
So, he sent Regulus a wry look. “Lust with a side of self-loathing. Charming.”
“It’s not just that. It’s… complicated.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. “Complicated how?”
Regulus hesitated, then spoke slowly. “Older. Powerful. Dangerous.”
That caught Severus’ attention. “How much older?”
Regulus shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Mother would be thrilled at his attention…for herself”
That hardly narrows it down. He meets plenty of influential older wizards when schmoozing at his family’s events that Walburga would happily bed.
Severus considered him. “Is this man a Death Eater?”
Regulus didn’t answer. Severus watched him carefully, cataloguing every gesture, every pause. He felt a flicker of unease. Regulus was clever, yes but cleverness didn’t protect you from obsession. It didn’t shield you from being used.
We both know what it’s like to be cast aside by someone we once admired. I don’t want Regulus to face that again.
Severus exhaled sharply. “You’re playing with fire.”
“I know,” Regulus murmured. “But he’s… magnetic. He speaks and the room listens. He looks at me and I feel like I exist outside of bloodlines and expectations.”
Severus hated the waver in Regulus’ voice. Vulnerability didn’t suit him - it clashed with the polished heir persona he wore like a second skin, hiding his natural boisterous mischief.
His voice was cold as he asked: “And what does he want from you?”
Regulus looked up, eyes shadowed. “Nothing. He doesn’t know how I feel.”
Severus looked skeptical. “You’re not stupid, Regulus. Of course he knows. You know how men like that operate. They charm, they use, they discard.”
He’ll drain you, twist you, and leave you hollow. He screamed into the void of his own mind.
“I’m not naïve either,” Regulus said quietly. “I know it’s dangerous. I know he’s dangerous. But for once, I want something that’s mine. Not Sirius’ rebellion. Not Father’s legacy. Just… mine.”
Severus studied him, the flicker of torchlight catching the vulnerability in his expression. Regulus, for all his bravado, was still sixteen. Still soft in places he didn’t know existed.
“Then be careful. Wanting something doesn’t make it safe.”
Regulus gave a faint smile. “You sound like my conscience.”
“I’m flattered,” Severus said dryly. “Though I’d prefer to be your survival instinct.”
Regulus chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “Noted.”
After a moment, Regulus straightened, the mask slipping back into place. “Anyway. Enough brooding. I came to tell you that Mulciber’s planning something stupid in the Astronomy Tower tonight. Thought you’d want to know.”
Severus gave a curt nod. “I’ll be there.”
Regulus smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ta-ra, Sev.”
As Regulus disappeared down the corridor, Severus remained still, the echo of his footsteps fading into the stone. The alcove felt colder now, quieter. He didn’t trust the smile Regulus had worn - it was too thin, too practiced. Whatever he was chasing, it had teeth. And Severus knew better than most what happened when you reached for something sharp.
He exhaled slowly, then turned back to the desk he’d claimed earlier. The flickering torchlight caught the edge of his parchment, and he pulled his notes closer, trying to drown the unease in ink and theory.
Regulus’ earlier words came back to him.
“Sirius and his gang haven’t been harassing you lately.”
It was true. Potter and Black, usually unable to go more than a few days without hexing his robes inside out, or charming his hair to blaze on fire, or cursing him upside down, had been conspicuously restrained for months now. No corridor ambushes. No snide commentary during meals. Just silence.
“ I'm going to get the others to stop teasing you.” Lupin had said in their first Potions lesson.
At the time, Severus had dismissed it as empty politeness. But now, the evidence was undeniable. The Marauders had backed off. And not just for a day or two, but consistently. Deliberately.
Could Lupin truly have meant what he said? It seemed to be the only logical conclusion. But logic didn’t soothe the unease curling in Severus’s gut like a relentless serpent. Why would he bother? What did he stand to gain? Severus had nothing to offer in return. No social currency. No leverage.
Unless…no.
The idea curdled in his stomach. Bile burned the back of his throat.
He honestly believes that I am hurting myself over their actions?
The idea was ridiculous. Severus knew he had successfully relieved him of that misguided notion. Then, perhaps?
He learned of my parents’ demise?
That possibility was no more comforting. Pity was a poison Severus refused to swallow.
Still, it was a surprisingly considerate gesture from the Gryffindor. There was no fanfare, no self-congratulatory speeches. Just quiet action. And restraint.
Severus reluctantly admired Lupin’s commitment to his word. And, rare enough as kindness was, Severus was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Still, the question lingered like smoke in his lungs, impossible to exhale.
Why does he care?
.
.
.
"Snape?" the voice sliced through his thoughts.
Speak of the Devil and he doth appear.
Severus stiffened in his seat, tilting his head just enough for his curtain of black hair to fall between them - a shield, a barrier. His eyes flicked up, roving over the Gryffindor’s appearance.
He's rather handsome, in a rugged way.
The stray thought made him snarl inwardly. Absolutely not.
"I found this over in the Potions section," Lupin continued after a moment of silence, holding up a battered copy of Advanced Potions Making. Severus felt his stomach sink to the ground at the sight - the familiar creased spine, the dog eared pages, the stain on the cover.
"It looks like your handwriting, but it says it belongs to the 'Half-Blood Prince'…"
"It's mine," he said sharply, snatching the proffered book from the Gryffindor's hands with more force than necessary.
Looking rather bewildered, Remus stood awkwardly at the foot of the table. "Right..well, uh, there you go. I'd best do some revision whilst I'm here."
He fumbled in his satchel, pulling out several sheaves of parchment and ink, and settling awkwardly at the far end of the table. The silence that followed was taut, punctuated only by the scratch of quills and the whisper of turning pages.
Severus tried to focus but Lupin glanced at him for the fifteenth time in five minutes.
Severus tried to focus, but kept glancing at him. His looks were subtle and fleeting, but frequent enough to make his skin prickle.
Fifteen times, Severus counted, in five bloody minutes.
"For the love of-" he hissed under his breath, but from the twitch of Remus' ears he knew the other definitely heard him.
"Lupin," he called, louder now and flinched when those dark 'green eyes locked onto his.
Have they always been that beautiful?
The thought him like a rogue hex.
Faltering for words, he swallowed hard, throat suddenly hard.
"Thank you,” he said. “For returning my book."
Warmth spread across Lupin's face in a slow, breathtaking, smile that made Severus' stomach lurch in response.
"It's alright, Sever- I mean Snape."
Merlin only knew what caused the next words to escape his mouth.
"You may call me Severus. If you wish."
The smile returned, softer this time, and Severus could only nod before hurrying back to his notes, wishing for his heart to calm its infernal thumping.
This is nothing, he told himself. Just politeness. Just proximity. Just…
The warmth in his chest said otherwise.
e yes for striking
3rd January 1978
Great Hall
The holidays had slipped past in a blur of frost and firelight, and now Hogwarts brimmed once again with students weighed down by half-finished essays and post-festivity fatigue. Among them sat a visibly tense Remus Lupin, eyes scanning the sea of faces in the Great Hall until they landed on his Potions partner.
The usually dour Slytherin was, for once, not scowling at the Gryffindor table, but instead smiling at something Regulus Black had just said.
Remus felt his jaw tighten.
His inner-wolf stirred, growling low in the back of his mind.
Remus gritted his teeth, desperately fighting down the unfamiliar flare of anger threatening to overcome his features.
"Hey, Remus, everything alright?" James asked, noticing his friend wasn't eating. "Your problem isn't until the end of the month. Are you feeling ill?"
"Yeah, you do look a little peaky, mate. Perhaps you should go see Pomfrey," Sirius suggested, casting his friend a worried glance.
"No," the denial was out of his mouth before he could think, "No, I'm fine really. Just have a bit of a headache, that's all." It wasn't a lie…not really. His inner wolf was howling and he was confused - it was enough to give anyone a headache.
He forced a smile that he hoped was reassuring, although it felt more like a grimace. His friends returned to their meal, placated, but Remus' mind was unravelling.
What was Moony reacting to?
Remus glanced around the hall.....
It almost seemed as if the wolf was jealous.
Mine.
The word slashed through his thoughts, raw and wild. Remus' eyebrows furrowed in confusion as that word flashed through his mind. Was Moony possessive of Severus?
This conclusion seemingly excited Moony further.
Mine! Mine! Mine!
The gleeful yipping from the wolf in his mind was impossible to ignore. Remus felt his cheeks drain of their remaining colour.
No. No, it couldn't be…I don't fancy Severus.
Right?
The denial was on the tip of his tongue, but honestly, his rational mind made so much sense.
Severus' quiet brilliance was endearing, and his haughty grace and clever smirk were quite sinful. And the thought of anyone harming him caused him to grow hot with rage he hadn't known he could feel.
Oh, gods…
"Hey, what's that slimy snake looking at?" Peter sneered.
James paused from taking another slice of beef from the platter, to follow Peter's gaze. "It's just Snivi…uh… I mean Snape. Just ignore him," James answered, smirking when Evans beamed at his correction. "Maybe he wants to talk to Remus about their potions project? I swear Yaxley is driving me barmy with his questions..."
Remus barely registered James' complaints. He glanced across the hall and almost instantly found the tall Slytherin whose questioning onyx eyes seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
Mine!
There was no such thing as mates for werewolves. But Moony was yipping and prancing, his tail wagging under Severus' gaze. And suddenly, Remus didn’t want to deny it. If Severus stirred this deep, protective joy in the wolf then why should he fight it?
Smiling ever so softly, he nodded at the Slytherin.
Severus' thin lips twisted upwards.
Mine!
Remus couldn't help but agree. A wave of contentness swept through his being as if a soothing balm was embracing his soul. Was this what the Headmaster meant when he said to accept Moony?
A soft rustle sounded from below, and there on the table was a folded piece of parchment.
Would you care to join me in the library tomorrow? I find your company...reasonable.
There was a tiny drawing of a bat in the corner, and a bright smile appeared on his face, so bright his cheeks ached from stretching. His fingers scrambled for a quill and inkpot from his robes.
Definitely! Shall we say 6pm? Can’t wait!
With a swish of his wand, the reply soared across the hall. He avidly watched as Severus blinked at the note and then relaxed, the tension in his posture bleeding into visible relief.
Moony barked, pleased.
Remus thought it was one of the best feelings in his life.
now I'm twisted up
11th March 1978
Hogwarts Library
Spring entered swiftly, sweeping away February's bitter cold in favour of the light breezes and downpours of March. In greenhouse number three, over two dozen mandrakes began to blossom, and every day in the library, change underway in the relationship between Severus and Remus - quietly blooming into something warm.
Since their deliberate meeting in January, the Severus and Remus made it a regular event, meeting at least once a week. Remus easily hid his meetings from the Marauders under the pretense of N.E.W.T preparation, while Severus - already known as a potions apprentice - had no need to explain to the Snake Pit his hours spent with parchment, potions, and Remus.
"Are you being serious, Sev?" Remus asked, his green eyes wide in excitement and laughter. "Lucius Malfoy honestly confused fauna with porno in his Muggle Studies essay?"
Severus managed to keep a straight face and nodded solemnly, yet as soon as the first chuckle escaped Remus' lips, he couldn't help but join in.
"They don't even sound that similar!"
"I know!" Severus was all but howling in laughter, "You should have seen his face when he told me he received a Troll!" Severus managed to say through the sobs of laughter. "He never even knew Muggles had such creations! He asked me what breed of Muggle plant 'porno' was!"
"I can just see it now! The imposing ice-prince blushing beet-red as you, a first year, explain that porno is most definitely not an example of muggle horticulture!"
Remus' laughter shook the table. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his face flushed red as he gasped for air.
Struggling through his own laughter, Severus stared at the man he considered a friend. Through four months of talking, he had learned more than he expected. Remus had confided that he had been bitten by Fenrir Greyback as a child and had been struggling with his inner-wolf – Moony – until January this year. However, when Severus asked about how he managed to soothe his wolf, Remus only smiled widely and switched topics.
Severus also learnt that Remus hated having to transform. It was excruciatingly painful, even after he had accepted Moony. And, once in wolf form, he had the mind and instincts of Moony, which were unpredictable at the best of times.
As Remus’s painful confessions unfolded - raw, unfiltered, and clearly genuine - Severus realised something that made his breath catch. Remus hadn’t known. Not about the Shack. Not about how close Severus had come to death. And with that, a weight Severus hadn’t even known he was carrying began to lift. The suspicion that Remus had been complicit, that he’d approved of the plans to lure him to the shack, dissolved. He hadn’t been cruel. He’d simply been kept in the dark.
Severus once suggested that Remus use the Wolfsbane potion, but Remus had only smiled sadly, saying he was unable to afford it. It was then and there that Severus decided he would learn how to brew the potion for him. Circe knew that Remus shouldn't have to endure that sort of pain, and Remus would detest himself if he ever accidentally hurt someone in wolf-form.
"Gods…" Remus sighed once his chuckling had subsided, before turning a roving gaze on Severus. "How was it you knew Muggle terminology, Sev? I thought you came from a wizarding family?"
Severus flinched at the Gryffindor's words, and from the look on Remus' face, he didn't mean to say his thoughts aloud. However, Severus had not lied to Remus since term began and he wasn't about to start today. Along with Regulus, he was one of his only friends at Hogwarts.
Well…Perhaps more than a friend, however, Remus didn't know that.
"My mother," he said, voice tightening despite himself, "was a naïve pureblood who fell in love with my father, a drunken example of Muggle scum, so I grew up in the Muggle world."
A deafening silence developed between the two. Severus glared down at the table, unable to meet the surprised eyes of his friend. Remus was many things; he was empathetic, sympathetic, and his morals were on a pedestal so high into the heavens, they almost touched St. Peter. However, Remus was also intelligent, so hearing Severus speak ill of his deceased parents, coupled with the hints of his past, he was bound to draw the correct conclusion.
A rustling sound came from beside him, and he glanced up into two warm green eyes. "What?" he managed to say, before two arms wound their way around his body and he lost the ability to speak altogether.
The scratchy woollen material of Remus' robes irritated his face, but it didn't matter. The alluring smell of Remus - earthly, clean, and familiar - more than made up for it. Gods, how could something so wrong feel so right?
He vaguely heard a low rumble coming from Remus' chest and the feel of hot breath on his neck. Was he growling? Shivering at the thought, he savoured the feel of Remus' arms around him.
Eventually, when Remus pulled away, a devastating smile stretched across his face. Severus flushed at the sight of it.
"Do you feel better?" Remus asked, voice gentle. Severus couldn't bring himself to speak, so just nodded. "I'm glad, I don't like to see you in pain."
"I wasn't in pain." Severus felt the need to point out.
Remus stared pointedly at him.
"Emotional pain," he clarified. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought your parents up, I know that they're a…touchy subject for you."
Severus let a slow breath escape and faced the apologetic face of Remus with a small smile. "Don't apologise, Remus. You're curious and I can't fault you. You're a knowledge hog, you know?” He teased lightly, “You collect knowledge like others do chocolate frog cards. I should be proud of your impulse to interrogate."
He faltered, then offered a small smile. "Now, ask away."
An uncertain look flashed across Remus' face, his green eyes a mix of both anxiety and excitement. "Oh…uh…If you're sure. What's your stance on Muggles?"
A throaty chuckle escaped Severus, "You're not holding back I see?" Remus had the good grace to blush red, but his hardened eyes told Severus that he wanted an answer. "If that was your subtle way of asking if I wish Muggles dead, Remus, then you would be a useless spy. However, I do not wish Muggles dead. My parents? Yes, but all Muggles? No." Severus shook his head slowly. "I wish for our worlds to be separated, but I am not idiotic enough to aid the futile task of exterminating the Muggle race."
Remus’s expression was conflicted, and Severus saw it. With a sigh of defeat, he reached out and caught the werewolf's hand.
"I hated my mother and father, Remus…" he whispered quietly.
"I understand that you hated your father, but surely your mother was a victim as much as you were." His gaze was compassionate but his voice confused.
Something ugly uncurled itself inside Severus' stomach like a white-hot poker had woken a sleeping monster. He shot from his seat and pointed a shaking finger at the Gryffindor. "I hated her more than him! I loathed her entire being!" he hissed, face scrunched in pain.
Remus looked stunned by the outburst, mouth gaping at the unusual display of emotion on his friend's face.
"You don't understand," he hissed. "Why did I think you could?'
"Make me understand then," Remus retorted, his voice wavering at the pain in those onyx orbs. "Please. Severus…Speak to me," he coaxed, placing a hand on the other's shoulders.
Severus flinched, heart thumping like it wanted out.
He stared past Remus, his harsh pants and the odd sniff the only sounds heard. "It's the pain you feel in your chest at the thought of having to face the man who has tormented you for your entire life," Severus murmured quietly. "The man your mother willingly married; the man that she loved."
Jerkily, he walked back to his seat and collapsed into it. "It's the fear that grips you when you realise that he's drunk again. It's the bitterness you feel when your mother pretends not to hear the first scream, just sits and watches you get beaten, again, and again, and again. And…and…it's the worthlessness you feel when you realise that if she loved you at all, she didn't love you enough to stop it."
“She was your mother,” Remus whispered - not as an accusation, but as grief.
Severus immediately glared at Remus, betrayal painted across his face.
Remus hurriedly continued. "She was your mother, and she was supposed to help you. She should have done everything in her power to get you out of that situation the first time it happened; she should have comforted you, told your father where to go, and left that hellhole," he declared vehemently, danger glinting in his green eyes.
Silently, Severus reached across the table to grab Remus' hand and, with a small smile, the Gryffindor accepted it. "You understand?" and damned everyone to hell should they hear the hesitance and wariness in his voice.
Nodding, Remus grasped the pale hand tightly. "I understand, Severus. I'll always understand."
w hen I'm twisted with you
11th May 1978
Border of Forbidden Forest
Spring arrived swiftly. March's biting chill departed for April's wind-swept skies, followed then by an unusually grey May. Downpours dominated the majority of the month, only interrupted by the fleeting bursts of pale sunshine. That afternoon was one such day, bright but brisk, and few students dared to risk a trip outdoors.
Except two.
Severus and Remus ignored this convention, taking the rare day of sun as an opportunity to forage for ingredients needed for Severus' upcoming Potions apprenticeship exam. It was also a brilliant excuse to give the other when they wanted to spend more time with them.
"Don't be so worried, Severus," Remus chided softly, as he stopped to gently pluck a vibrant pink blossom with a name he couldn't begin to pronounce. "You are the most brilliant potioneer I've ever seen. It's not every day that someone is accepted into an apprenticeship programme an entire year earlier than normal. You're going to get top marks."
Severus glanced up from inspecting an aloe vera plant, "Do you really believe that?" his eyes staring into the ardent face of Remus.
Remus flashed that bright smile, - the one that had ruined him months ago. Severus felt his gut twist in response. "Of course I do, Severus. You're amazing."
Warmth bloomed through his ribs at Remus' admission. He felt a soft smile stretch his face. "Thank you," he murmured almost inaudibly, knowing Remus would hear it with his improved senses.
The Gryffindor didn't make any acknowledgement other than another bright smile, his cheeks flushed as he avoided Severus' eyes. Severus thought he'd never seen anything so ruinously beautiful.
What has become of me? He turned to gather leaves from the forest floor. To have such thoughts for him, such feelings for him…Gods, I would give all my potions to the next man to only feel those arms around me once again.
But even friendship had become sacred. And Severus, always the cautious one, knew better than to ask for more.
"I think that's enough hellebore, Remus," he said quietly. "Let's head back to the castle."
Remus nodded and scrambled to his feet. He easily gathered the hellebore and bounded after Severus. "Well, that was fun!" Remus declared, taking a deep breath. "I love the smell of the forest! Maybe that's Moony's influence, but the leaves, the damp earth, the sound of the birds. Hmmm," Remus smiled softly at the sky, "It's wonderful."
Severus glanced sideways. "Yes you are," he whispered quietly before he could stop himself.
Suddenly, Remus turned to look at him. Severus felt his heart freeze. I said that aloud.
His stomach twisted itself into knots. But Remus didn't say anything or recoil; he just smiled, wide and fond, and closed his fingers gently around Severus'.
Remus swung their hands casually between them, and Severus swallowed down the panic fluttering in his chest.
Don’t misread things. Remus is just being a good friend. Don't ruin your friendship by saying something.
"How was the History exam?" Remus asked, breaking the silence. "It was your final exam, wasn't it?"
Clearing his throat, Severus nodded. "Yes, it was my final exam. And I believe it went well, thank you for asking. The final question stumped me for a bit, but I eventually figured out how to answer it."
The Gryffindor smiled to himself, "I'm sure you did well; you're one of the best in the year."
Severus scoffed. "You are the history prodigy, Remus. I have no doubts that when you take the exam your scores will eclipse mine."
A light dusting of pink appeared on Remus' cheeks at the praise, and Severus could only smirk ever so slightly at the reaction. 'I take back what I said of him being beautiful, he is adorable.'
The doors to the castle were only a few hundred feet away, when a portly figure rushed through them. They paused where they stood. "Severus!" a familiar voice called out.
Professor Slughorn puffed toward them, his cheeks ruddy from the exertion. Remus made no move to drop Severus’ hand, and Severus didn’t dare let go.
“Sir?” Severus asked, masking concern with practiced calm.
"Ah, gosh…I'm so glad… I found you, Severus," the man wheezed between breaths, "Your apprenticeship examiner has arrived early!"
All blood drained from Severus' face. "But he is not due to arrive until next week!"
Panic surged, barely contained, but a thumb was rubbing slow circles into his palm, grounding him.
"Yes, yes, I know! But he has to attend the Potions Symposium on Monday instead of his colleague who has taken ill, so he's testing you today instead!" the professor replied, absently wringing his hands together.
"Circe!" Severus hissed, yanking his free hand through his hair. Turning to the Gryffindor beside him, he offered an apologetic twist of the mouth. "I am sorry to cut short our time together-"
Remus waved him off. "It's alright, Severus," the teen comforted, "I understand how important this is to you. You're going to blow them away!"
Relief rushed out of Severus like a breath after drowning and smiled widely at Remus. Emboldened by the look on Remus' face - the breathless hitch of breath, the quiet awe - he cupped Remus' hands in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrists.
"Thank you," he said, his voice firm and unyielding. He held the gaze of those gorgeous green eyes like a promise.
A throat cleared from beside them.
Severus fought down the need to blush at performing such a mortifying display in front of his Potions Professor. "Right," Severus huffed, as the Professor began to stride towards the castle. "Goodbye Remus!" he called whilst jogging after Professor Slughorn.
He didn't see Remus press his trembling fingers to his heart. Or the foolish grin stretching across his face.
brush so lightly
25th May
Hogwarts grounds
The sun was sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, casting long golden streaks across the grass. A hush had settled over the grounds, the kind that only came at twilight, when the day hadn’t quite ended and the night hadn’t quite begun.
Severus and Remus sat beneath a tree near the lake, their bags forgotten beside them. The water shimmered with the last light of day, and the breeze carried the scent of damp leaves and distant woodsmoke.
It wasn’t an arranged meeting. Severus was simply wandering the edge of the lake searching for fresh pickerelweed when he spied Remus. On silent feet, he slinked toward the Gryffindor, half-hidden by the long shadows of the trees.
Remus was seated with his back to the trunk, knees drawn up, a book resting forgotten in his lap. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the sun bled gold into the sky. He looked peaceful. Tired. Beautiful in a way that made Severus’ chest ache.
He hesitated.
There were a hundred reasons to turn away. A hundred memories that warned him against this softness. But something in the way Remus’ shoulders slumped, in the quiet curve of his mouth, made Severus stay.
He stepped closer, letting the rustle of leaves announce his presence.
Remus turned, startled at first, but his expression softened when he saw who it was.
“I didn’t expect company,” he said, voice low.
“I can leave,” Severus offered, though he didn’t move.
Remus shook his head. “No, no. I want your company. Stay.”
So Severus did.
They watched the lake together, the water catching fire in the last light of day. It was the first time they’d been alone since Severus’ apprenticeship exam a fortnight prior. The memory of their departure hung between them like mist, unspoken, but present.
Then, as if pulled by something, Severus let his hand creep closer. Carefully, inching across the shared space between them until…
Slowly. Hesitantly, his pinky finger grazed Remus’ hand.
Remus’ breath stilled.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But he didn’t pull away either.
The touch was barely there, just the brush of Severus’ pinky against the back of his hand, but it felt like a thunderclap in the quiet. A question asked without words. A truth neither of them had dared name.
Severus kept his eyes on the lake, pretending to watch the ripples, though his heart was thudding so loudly he was sure Remus could hear it.
After a long moment, Remus shifted ever so slightly, letting his hand turn, so their fingers aligned. Not clasped. Not held. Just… touching.
Severus glanced sideways, and their eyes met.
There was no teasing in Remus’ expression. Just something open and impossibly gentle.
The breeze stirred the leaves above them, and a few petals drifted down. One landed between their hands, and neither moved to brush it away.
They sat like that, side by side, the world quiet around them. Not speaking. Not needing to.
.
.
.
“Something has been bothering me, Severus.” Remus hesitated, then met Severus’s gaze. “How did you know I’m a werewolf?”
Severus took a moment before answering. His fingers twitched in Remus’s grasp, but he didn’t let go.
“I didn’t find out until fifth year,” he said slowly. “It was nearly Samhain. Black and Potter had just pulled a brutal stunt on Regulus. I was furious. You lot always demonised us snakes, but had no issues using borderline dark magic on family?”
He paused, jaw tightening.
“I wanted to catch you in an act that even Dumbledore couldn’t ignore. Black must’ve noticed me watching him. He told me how to get past the Whomping Willow. Said it was a secret passage beyond the wards. I thought I’d catch you sneaking off grounds. I didn’t know…”
He trailed off, voice tightening.
Remus’ hand clenched, as if the words had struck him physically. “You went in?”
Severus nodded, gaze dark. “I saw you.” He swallowed. “Well, not you. Moony .”
Remus recoiled, and tried tugging his hand from Severus' grip. “I…Severus, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have-”
But Severus resolutely held on. “Don’t.”
Remus went still, his breath shallow. “I could’ve killed you,” he whispered.
“Moony almost did.” Severus admitted softly. “Potter pulled me out. Just in time.
Remus stared at the grass. The golden twilight seemed colder now, shadows stretching longer across the grass.
When he looked up, there was something shattered in his gaze. “I didn’t know. I swear, I had no idea. I would’ve stopped him. I would’ve done something .” His voice cracked under the strain of regret.
Severus looked back at him, eyes unreadable. “I believe you.”
The words didn’t soothe the ache in Remus’ chest. They stung.
He tore his hand from Severus’ grasp, covering his face with trembling fingers. “How can you stand being near me knowing how dangerous I am. H ow monstrous .”
“You’re not a monster,” Severus said sharply, cutting through the air like a blade.
Remus blinked.
Severus’s voice dropped, low and bitter. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be feared?” Severus continued, voice low. “To be hated for something you didn’t choose?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m a half-blood, remember? And a Slytherin. Poor. Ambitious. That’s enough for most people to decide I’m either the next Dark Lord or scum on their shoe to be scum on their shoe to be scraped off without a second thought.”
Remus swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Severus. I’m a mindless beast though, I nearly killed you and I had no idea. To you, it must have looked like I just didn’t care about almost ending your life. No wonder you hated me.”
Severus nodded slowly. “I did hate you. Not because you are a werewolf but because you were silent. You let them laugh while they dangled the life debt over my head.”
Remus swallowed hard, turning to Severus and brushing his thumb across his jaw. “I never thought to truly question things. I saw what James saw. What Sirius mocked. I never stopped to ask who you were beneath it all. I’m so sorry, Severus. I had no idea about the life debt though. Please believe me, I would have put a stop to that. To play with your life like that…it’s just too-”
Severus hushed Remus, and with a tug, pulled him against his side so his head rested against his shoulder.
“I know that now . I understand now that you had no idea about Moony’s actions or the life debt. But at the time…” he trailed off, gazing hard. “I thought it was a prank that you were in on. A way to humiliate me. Leave me beholden to Potter.”
Remus flinched. “I didn’t know…” He repeated, the words brittle in the air. He felt them crack inside his chest as he spoke. He was beginning to see the Marauders’ actions - their cruelty - in a new light. “It all makes sense now, though. The way you looked at me back then, like I was the devil incarnate. And the way you flinched when they joked. How you never retaliated even when they took things too far.”
His shoulders hunched, as if the weight of memory had finally broken him. “I thought we were just stupid boys. Mischievous. Reckless. But we were cruel. We were cowards .” His voice was thick with self-loathing.
Then a thought hit Remus like a ton of bricks. A sickening, impossible thought.
They wouldn’t. Would they?
Remus felt his stomach twist. He turned to Severus, eyes wide with horror. “They made you insult Lily to repay the life debt, didn’t they?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate for his suspicion to be wrong.
The silence was damning, stretching between them like a chasm.
He opened his eyes slowly, and what he saw in Severus’s face wasn’t anger. It was resignation. A quiet, bitter kind of grief.
Remus felt something inside him collapse. He was disappointed. Not in Severus. In himself. In James. In all of it.
“Not in so many words, but I had to end things irrevocably. And I couldn’t tell her the true reason why…” He paused, gathering himself. “I did my job too well. I thought… I thought she would let me explain, well an explanation that didn’t involve you lot.”
Remus squeezed his hand, desperate. “I could talk to-”
“No!” Severus’ voice cracked like a whip. He turned sharply, eyes flashing. “She ended our relationship. I tried three times to earn her forgiveness. Each time she insulted me worse than before. The last time…” He swallowed, voice wavering. “The last time she told me I deserved to get beaten. That my father should have beaten my mum into miscarrying.”
Remus’s breath caught. “I’m so sorry, Sev.” The words felt pitifully small, but they were all he had. He squeezed Severus’s hand tighter, grounding them both in the present.
Severus didn’t speak. His eyes were locked on some distant point, as if he could will himself away from the memory. His shoulders trembled with the effort of holding everything in.
“She was my sister in all but blood. I loved her. I still do, in some twisted, pathetic way.”
Remus nodded slowly, his own heart aching. “It’s not pathetic, it’s perfectly human.”
There was a long silence. The kind that settles when truth has finally been spoken.
Then Remus whispered, “You did what you had to. To save yourself. To protect her.”
Severus looked at him, eyes glassy. “And I lost everything for it.”
Remus didn’t argue. “Maybe you did.” He moved closer, resting his forehead against Severus’. “You’ve gained something new though.”
Severus didn’t move at first. His breath was shallow, the warmth of Remus’ forehead against his own sending a tremor through him, as if even that small contact was too much to bear. But he didn’t pull away.
“What could I possibly have gained?” he asked, voice quiet, almost shy.
Remus closed his eyes, letting the silence speak for a moment before answering. “You’ve gained someone who sees you. Really sees you. And likes you for everything you are..”
They stayed like that for a moment. Their foreheads touching, hands loosely clasped, the weight of years pressing down but not crushing them.
and time trickles down
Later that day
Gryffindor Common Room
James was lounging on the sofa, absently tossing a Snitch between his hands. Its wings buzzed softly, catching the light as it flickered and darted above his head. Sirius lounged nearby, legs sprawled out, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth as he watched the golden blur dance.
The door slammed open.
Remus didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“You sent him there.”
James' hand missed the snitch. It zipped upward and vanished into the rafters.
“What?” he said, blinking in surprise.
“To the Shack. Severus. You knew it was the full moon.”
Sirius’s grin faltered. “He’s always nosing around. He wanted to know.”
“So you showed him the way?” Remus’s voice cracked. “You led him to me. While I was…while I could’ve-”
James stood abruptly, hands raised like he could push the words away. “In our defence, we didn’t think he’d actually go in.”
Remus’s fists clenched. “You didn’t think ?” His voice rose, raw and trembling. “He could’ve died. I could’ve killed him.”
Sirius scoffed. “But you didn’t.”
“That’s not the point!” Remus shouted. “You used me . You turned me into a weapon.”
James looked stricken. “We didn’t mean-”
Remus shook his head. “You don’t get to ‘not mean’ something like this.”
Sirius rolled his eyes but his shoulders were tense. “Come on, mate. It’s been two years.”
Remus whirled round on Sirius, eyes flashing amber. “Exactly! It’s been two years and none of you told me that I nearly killed someone! You just told me you pulled a stupid prank that night. You let me laugh at him, all while you knew he was the victim of attempted murder.”
Sirius raised his hands, defensive. “Now hold on, Moony. That’s blowing things out of-”
“Do not tell me I’m overreacting.” Remus’s voice was sharp, trembling with fury. “I’m calling it what it is. Attempted murder . And let me guess - you didn’t even get punished for it, did you?”
James and Sirius exchanged glances. It was brief but it spoke volumes.
Remus scoffed. “Of course not. Not for perfect, pureblood Potter. We can’t have a ‘Light’ family dragged through the mud, not in this political climate!”
James sputtered, face flushing. “That’s not fair-”
Remus ignored him, turning to level Situs with a cold, judging stare. “And you. For someone who claims to hate his family, you sure throw their privilege around to get out of tough scrapes!”
Sirius’ face darkened. “Now that is out of line, Moony!”
“Is it?” Remus snapped. “You nearly killed someone, and nothing happened to you as punishment. What was the reason for this? Other than favouritism and privilege because of who your families are.”
Sirius’ lip curled. “You’re sounding just like Snivilus. Has he corrupted-”
“For pity’s sake, are you eleven ?” Remus’ voice was scathing. “You accuse him of corrupting me because I’m finally pointing out the truth. What? You don’t like it when your little lapdog doesn’t roll over when you command it?”
James stepped forward, uncertain. “Remus… we’ve never treated you like a dog.”
Remus’s laugh was bitter. “No? Then why did you keep me in the dark? Why did you use me?”
He took another step, eyes burning.
“I’ve finally woken up to how cruel I’ve been. Standing by while you terrorise and harass those you deem lesser. Laughing along. Letting it happen. I thought it was just childish rivalry, that there was blame on both sides. But there wasn’t, was it? And now I know how cruel you can be.”
James shifted, but Remus pressed on.
“He owed you a life debt, and you used it to own him. And then, just to rub salt to his wounds, you used that very same life debt to rip away one the only people that cared about him. What was it James? Were you truly that threatened by him, that you had him betray her to sever their ties?”
James’ face flushed. “I am not threatened by that slimy snake!”
Remus was taking no prisoners. “Of course you are. You’ve hated him from the start. Why?” He stepped forward, eyes burning. “Come on, what did you tell me when I first asked? You said he was dark. A snake. Rotten to the core. How did you know that, James? You didn’t. He was a poor half-blood. Muggle-raised. He hadn’t done a damn thing to you.”
James opened his mouth, but Remus cut him off.
“You started this war because you saw a pretty girl and wanted her for yourself. Only she was his friend - not yours. And like a pampered little rich boy who’s never been told ‘no,’ you stomped your feet and threw a tantrum. He became your enemy - not because of something he did, or who he was. But because he had Lily’s affection.”
James’s mouth opened, but no words came. His eyes darted to Sirius, searching for backup, for denial, for anything that would make this stop.
“People can have more than one friend, James. You know that - after all there’s four of us in this merry little band. But you want all of her attention for yourself.” Remus’s voice was rising now, fierce and furious. “So, once you got your chance, you made sure she would never be friends with him again. I bet she was so hurt, so vulnerable, that you just wormed your way in.”
“That is enough !” James shouted, voice cracking.
Sirius wrapped an arm around James’ shoulders, and rolled his eyes at Remus. “Oh, come on, Moony. You can’t seriously be choosing Snivilus over us?”
Remus turned to him slowly, eyes sharp as glass. “I’m not choosing sides. I’m choosing truth . And if that makes you uncomfortable, maybe you should ask yourselves why.”
James faltered, his bravado flickering for a moment before it returned full force. “Come on Moony. She deserves better than Snivilus, she just needed help realising it.”
Sirius elbowed James with a grin. “Exactly. If anything, we did her a favour.”
“Oh, quit lying to yourself,” Remus’ voice was quieter now, but no less cutting. “You can dress it up however you want, but this was never about her. It was always about you and the power you wield over those who can’t fight back.”
And with that, he walked out, leaving James and Sirius in the echo of everything they didn’t want to hear.
and I'm breathing for two
20th June 1978
Abandoned classroom, somewhere in the dungeons
June swiftly entered with its sunny days and blue skies. Tensions were running high, as exam pressures mounted, and most fifth and seventh years could be found furiously studying in the library and the common rooms but Severus had already completed his final assessments weeks ago, courtesy of his advanced apprenticeship.
Whilst Remus (like most of the other seventh years) were buried in study groups and revision scrolls for their final week of exams, Severus was holed up in an abandoned classroom near the dungeons, muttering to himself, avidly watching his cauldron sputter and swirl.
He was in the final stages of a potion that took seven days of dedicated crafting to brew. He refused to admit failure in the eleventh hour.
He completed a final rotation.
The potion shimmered, then bloomed into its final hue, exuding a faint blue smoke.
Victory.
Exclaiming with triumph, Severus grinned widely as he hastily decanted the potion into a phial, and bolted from the room, determined to find his friend before the sun vanished entirely behind the hills. Fortunately for Severus, the warm stretch of June meant the days were longer, so the sun was only just setting at seven twenty-seven in the evening.
He stealthily snuck past the paranoid Caretaker, Filch, and ran out onto the grounds.
The sky was awash with colour, as beautiful hues of pink and orange mixed to form an amazing view. Staring into the distance, Severus could make out the menacing whomping willow frantically whipping its branches as a familiar figure approached it. Upon spotting him, Severus' smile only grew.
Quickening his pace, Severus reached the willow in no time and swiftly copied Remus' actions to freeze the flailing limbs of the tree. Shadows wrapped around him as he crept through the dank passageway, emerging moments later into the battered room, smelling of damp and doxie-ridden curtains, where Remus waited.
"Severus!" Remus' surprise quickly gave way to fear and urgency. "Severus get out! You can't be here, it's too dangerous!" he shouted at the flushed Slytherin, who was still panting from the exertion of getting into the shack.
Severus ignored Remus' dismissal and proudly held out the phial of murky-green potion to the Gryffindor. Only a slither of Remus' fear slid away to confusion as he glanced between Severus and the potion.
Sighing in defeat at the Gryffindor's incomprehension, Severus chuckled. "It's the wolfsbane potion," he explained, yet Remus' confusion only seemed to increase tenfold.
"Y..You brewed this for me?" he asked shakily, staring at the phial with wonder and awe.
Hearing his friend's question, all of Severus' pride seemed to disperse into nothingness, as nervousness seeped into his every pore. "Yes," he murmured quietly; shifting nervously on his feet. “I know this is the first time you don’t have your…friends with you for your transformation so I thought it would be particularly useful. Usually, you need to take it seven days before the full moon for the full effects, but it should at least alleviate some of the more worse elements of the transform-”
Severus didn't see the pair of arms reaching towards him, so he wasn't prepared for the Gryffindor barrelling into him.
They both hurtled onto the dusty wooden floor.
"Ow! Remus, you're elbowing my bladder!" came Severus' cry, and it was only a short second before Remus moved his arm with a small huff.
"Remus?" he questioned when the Gryffindor made no inclination to move.
With a small effort, he managed to prop himself onto his elbows and stared into dark amber eyes, filled with an emotion Severus dared not to hope for.
He watched as sharp canines bit into luscious pink lips before they settled into a toothy smile. "Remus?"
In the next second, or two, honestly, he had no clue how long it was. Those luscious lips crashed onto his own, and Severus lost the ability to think entirely. Only the feel of those full lips massaging his own, and the heady scent of Remus captivated him.
Opening his mouth, he let Remus dominate before he pulled the smaller man beneath him and ravaged his mouth.
Hot breath. Harsh panting. Bliss.
When they finally parted, Severus flopped down beside him, limbs humming with electricity. Remus lay sprawled on the rotting floor, chest heaving, eyes blown wide and staring at the ceiling..
Severus thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Time passed by, and only the Gods knew how long it was. Only a low buzzing could be felt, as every pore of Severus' body was tingling with the feel of Remus. Gods, it was magnificent.
"It's getting dark," Remus said eventually, voice like gravel and honey. Severus had to smirk at how breathless he sounded. "You should get going. It would kill me if I ever hurt you."
Severus reluctantly saw the logic in his statement, and slowly got to his feet; lazily brushing the dust from his robes. Glancing down, he had to smile widely at the sight of Remus - his wild hair, his swollen lips. Gods, it was almost sinful.
However, he noticed Remus' eyes weren't meeting his eyes. No. With a sense of dread, Severus followed Remus' gaze to his arm.
His bare, left arm.
The mark.
Severus froze.
"Remus," he said, voice tight, "It's not what it looks like."
But Remus had already sprung to his feet, green eyes flashing with fury. His beautiful mouth now twisted into an ugly sneer. "So that isn't the Dark Mark, Severus?" He questioned coldly, glowing green eyes feral in their intensity. "What was this? Some joke that you and your friends concocted? Get the stupid Gryffindor to fall for the Slimy Snake?"
"No!" The desperate denial was wrenched from Severus' lips, and he reached for Remus, only to fall through thin air as Remus stepped back.
"No-one knows how I feel about you!" Severus declared desperately. "I didn't do any of this to hurt you - I swear it! Gods, Remus, you have to believe me!"
"I trusted you," Remus snarled, his teeth bared in anger. "Why should I believe anything you say? I don't even know who you are anymore!"
"I'm yours, Remus," Severus breathed. "If you'll just let me explain!"
"Get out!" Remus hissed, shoving Severus towards the door. "Get out, you horrible, horrible dickhead! How could you?"
Severus paused at the threshold, staring at Remus - and Gods, Severus' breath caught in his throat, as he saw those beautiful eyes begin to water. He felt his own eyes filling with tears at the sight.
"Please, Remus," he whispered.
But the door slammed before he could finish his sentence. The last thing he saw was Remus' devastated face filled with betrayal.
He collapsed against the door, knees buckling. "Please believe me, Remus," and damn everyone to hell at how broken he sounded, "I never set out to hurt you! I…I…love you. I love you, dammit! I love you more than anyone or anything else in the world!"
There was no answer.
It was the silence of rejection that finally shattered his crumbling heart into pieces.
Fingernails dug painfully into the soft flesh of his arms as he felt his gut wrench. "Gods, Remus," he whispered, his breath hitching as a sob broke through.
"Please take the Wolfsbane. It should lessen the pain of your transformation. Please! Fuck! I'm so sorry! Please!" he trailed off as another sob racked his body. "I love you, Remus. More than anything. More than everything."
Silence.
At that moment, Severus Snape truly broke.
He didn't know how, but he eventually pulled himself off the floor and staggered out the shack. The castle glowed faintly ahead, turrets silhouetted against a navy sky. Severus walked like smoke - silent, barely tethered. His robes were damp from the grass. His fingers ached. His lungs felt hollow.
And still, no sound from the Shrieking Shack behind him.
Gods.
“Bloody hell, you look wrecked.”
The voice came from behind an elm.
Regulus Black stepped into the path, arms folded, silk robes pristine, the moon catching in his hair like stardust. Of course he would appear now - when dignity had fled and Severus’ heart was still trailing behind him in splinters.
“Not now, Regulus,” Severus muttered, attempting to sidestep.
Regulus blocked him. “Let me guess - you finally got the nerve to kiss the lion and forgot that it bites?"
Severus flinched. "How did you know about Remus?"
Regulus gave a small smirk, the kind that danced just shy of smug and melted into sympathy.
“I see things. You think those library sessions were subtle?” He snorted. “You both radiate awkward longing like a pair of repressed ghosts.”
Severus scowled but didn’t respond. The ache in his chest stole his words before they formed.
“Did you give him whatever potion you were slaving over?”
“I gave him everything.”
Regulus tilted his head, studying him with all the eerie intensity of a Black who'd been trained to spot weakness. “I take it he saw the mark."
Severus looked away.
“Did he-?”
"He wouldn't let me explain."
Regulus winced. "That...That's not ideal. They don't understand the Dark Lord's ideals."
"I know."
Regulus was quiet for a long moment, just watching him. Then he stepped aside, gesturing toward the castle. “Walk with me.”
They moved in silence at first, grass whispering beneath their shoes.
“You know he’ll forgive you,” Regulus said eventually, his voice low. “Maybe not tonight. Maybe not even this week. But he will.”
Severus shook his head. “You didn’t see his face.”
“I didn’t need to,” Regulus replied. “I've seen how you look at each other. He knows who you are at heart. It just hurts more because you matter.”
Severus swallowed against the lump in his throat. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“It never is.”
Another pause. Then Regulus glanced at him sideways. “Did he take whatever potion you were slaving away on for him?”
“I left it on the table.”
Regulus nodded. “Then he’ll feel it. The care in it.”
They reached the entrance steps. The torches flickered faintly in the breeze.
Regulus tilted his head. “Go clean up. Sleep. Eat something. If he doesn’t come to you, I’ll hex him into a confession myself.”
Severus let out something between a snort and a sob.
“I’m serious,” Regulus added. “I’m your friend. You let me in. Now I’m staying.”
And for the first time in hours, Severus felt a small smidgen of hope.
squeeze so tightly
21st June 1978
Great Hall
Ever since Remus had awoken on the shack's cold floor in the early hours of the morning, everything had blurred passed by in a whirlwind. Colour, sound, motion - all of it barely registered for him as he stumbled back to the Tower.
Somehow, by sheer habit, he found himself in the Great Hall, seated before a single piece of toast.
Nothing around him had changed. James was busy flirting with Lily, Sirius was chatting with Peter, both of them looking far too interested in James and Lily’s conversation. And Severus... Severus was nowhere to be seen.
In fact, the Slytherins looked unchanged as well. No mocking glances, no smug grins were sent his way. Not even any cruel whispers. Just disinterest. Somehow that was worse.
A heaviness settled in Remus' gut. Could Severus have meant every word he said?
Yes!
But how? He was a Death Eater. Surely that was a fundamental sign that Severus wasn't to be trusted? Surely everything Severus had told him - every truth they'd shared - had been a lie?
Yet, why then did his heart still leap at the thought of him? Or his stomach still lurch at the memory of his voice?
His lips still tingle at the feel of him?
"Rough night, Remus?" Sirius asked, a trembling grimace on his face.
Was this a peace offering?
Remus managed a weak smile. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“You look rough.”
Remus let out a dry laugh. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean—” Sirius stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I just meant… I’ve missed you.”
The words hung in the air, fragile and raw.
Remus looked at him then, really looked. Sirius’s bravado was cracked, his usual smirk barely holding. He looked tired. Maybe even sorry.
Perhaps he’s learned?
“I’ve missed you too,” Remus admitted quietly.
Sirius didn’t speak again right away. He just watched Remus, eyes flicking over his face like he was searching for something familiar.
Sirius exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for a month. “So… are we okay?”
Remus hesitated. His mind was a mess. Still tangled in last night’s betrayal, his own conflicting emotions, the bitter taste of hearing ‘I love you’ too late. But Sirius was here. Trying.
“We’re… getting there,” Remus said quietly.
Sirius’s shoulders dropped, relief softening his features. “Good. I-”
"Does it still hurt?" Peter’s voice interrupted them, his eyes wide and oddly gleeful.
Remus winced. The rat animagus always made everything feel a little worse.
"A bit," he admitted.
But, last night was the least painful transformation he had ever endured. Wolfsbane. Severus truly had brewed it. Part of him wished it had been a prank - some cruel twist. Then he would have something substantial to hold against Severus.
It would be so much easier to hate Severus than to lov…not hate him.
But no. Severus was true to his word. About the potion. About his feelings.
The sickening feeling in his stomach grew stronger.
"Post," James announced, pulling a knut from his pocket to pay the owl. Remus glanced back at his lone piece of toast. "Oh, someone's sent Moony a letter!" James crowed, pointing at the standard Hogwarts barn owl perched precariously on the toast rack.
"Oi oi! What's this?" Sirius crowed, grin manic and wide as he leaned in close. "Do you have a secret lover, Moony?"
And wasn't that a blow to the stomach? Severus could have been his lover, but there was no way the Slytherin would want to see him now. It was clear to him that Severus hadn't been lying - that Severus truly was in love with him. And what did he do? He cast him away with hatred and anger, without letting him have a chance to explain himself.
But how could Severus ever explain how he joined a faction that tortured and killed Muggles? How could he justify the killing of innocent people, regardless of their lack of magic? Didn't Severus say he didn't believe in Muggle extermination?
Why didn't I hear him out then? Severus wouldn't cast his morals aside to join a megalomaniac.
"Remus, open your damn letter!" Sirius cried in exasperation.
Remus turned slowly and saw that his three oldest friends were all staring at him in poorly-concealed curiosity and impatience.
He wearily complied.
Though, one glance at the writing and he promptly felt the little toast he had eaten rise up his throat. Severus. The Slytherin's delicate, swooping script was oh so familiar to him. Remus' heart hurt at the sight of it.
The writing was messier than usual. The pristine parchment smudged with fingertips that clearly trembled, and blotted ink that may have been tears.
He prised it open, with shaking hands.
Remus,
I'm sorry. There is nothing I can say to erase the hurt I caused you, unintentional though it was.
Not telling you was cowardice. At first, I feared it would harm our friendship beyond repair. But when I fell in love with you, the fear tenfold. It consumed me. I couldn't bear losing you. So I stayed silent. I now realise that, in doing so, I only hurt you further.
I should have told you sooner.
You should know that loving you was never a mistake. I savoured every second in your presence. I will now cherish every memory I hold of you.
I know that it is not fair on you - to abuse your memory in such a way - but the moment we shared together last night is one that I will forever hold dear to my heart.
You need not worry about seeing me. I have completed my N.E.W.T.S, and I am no longer required to be on school grounds. This is also cowardice on my part but I cannot face seeing you every day. I cannot bear seeing the betrayal and hurt that I caused.
I am not asking you to forgive me.
But you deserve to know why I did what I did.
Professor Slughorn has a phial of my memories for you and has kindly granted permission for use of his Pensieve. They will help you understand.
But I beg that you do not feel forced to view the memories; the choice is yours.
You need not fear that I will contact you again. Something I am sure you find abhorrent.
Your loyal and devoted servant.
SS.
Remus didn’t notice the Great Hall’s chatter had faded. His knuckles were white, fingers clenched around the parchment like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He felt tears beginning to slip down his face.
He had broken him. Severus had lived through hell and come to him, and he’d cast him aside without even listening. 'How could I have done this to him? I have done what his parents and Evans never managed.'
A rough hand shook at his shoulder, and he glanced up into the worried faces of his friends.
"I…" Gasping for breath, he felt his throat clench. What could he tell them? How could they understand that he had ruined the man who loved him? "I've got to go."
Then he bolted from the hall.
Slughorn. He needed to find him, he needed to know. He needed to know why Severus chose the Death Eaters. He knew that Severus wasn't capable of the atrocities that the Death Eaters committed, but he didn't let Severus explain, and now…now Severus is gone.
There! The portly Head of Slytherin was waddling toward his classroom. Remus easily sprinted to him. "Sir!" he cried.
The professor turned. The usual jovial face was unusually stern and weary as he took in the panting Gryffindor.
"Mr Lupin," he said slowly, disapproval dripping from his tongue, "Severus said that you might show your face."
Remus could only nod.
Shifting on his feet, Slughorn withdrew a phial from his robes.
"Listen to me, Mr Lupin. Severus is a good boy who has faced too much hurt in his short life. I do not know what occurred between the two of you last night; however, Severus was in a horrible state. The trust he is showing you by allowing you to view his personal memories is astounding, so I swear, by the grace of Magic herself, that if you hurt him again," he leaned in, voice cold. "I will personally show you how easy it is to ingest potion-laced pumpkin juice."
Swallowing the bile in his throat, Remus reminded himself that Slughorn was a man with many influential connections and wasn't a man to be ignored.
"I won't," Remus rasped, "I've already done enough damage." He stared hard at the man, "I never should have said what I said, and now I've lost him. Severus was the best thing to happen to me, professor. I just didn't realise it sooner."
Slughorn's face softened slightly. "I do not know what Severus wishes you to know, Mr Lupin. However, it is clear to me that he cares for you and that you care for him in return," he paused, obviously contemplating whether to reveal his next words. "He is staying with friends until September. He'll be training with Master Warring in London."
Remus clenched the phial in his hand. "I'll find him," his resolute voice surprised even himself, "To apologise for my actions, to beg for his forgiveness, and to hopefully…begin again."
"And what if you do not like what these memories reveal?"
"Severus is a good man," Remus whispered, "His actions may not show it but I know, deep in my heart, that Severus is a good man. And I," he choked on his words, as tears slid down his face. "And I…should have heard him out before jumping to conclusions."
Slughorn gave a slow and solemn nod. "Very well." He gestured the Gryffindor into his office. "The pensieve is just over there, Mr Lupin." he pointed needlessly at the stone basin on his desk. "Do take care."
Remus nodded at the man. "I will, sir. Thank you." The man only faltered a moment at hearing the gratitude in the Gryffindor's voice before leaving the room.
Remus stepped forward on shaky legs, and poured the phial into the still fluid. Instantly, two silvery strands began floating lazily around the basin. Steeling himself, he closed his eyes and plunged headfirst into the pensieve.
Immediately, a horrid sensation overtook him. It felt as if his stomach was being twisted into knots, whilst his head was simultaneously being slammed into a hard surface. However, the pain fled as quickly as it arrived and all that was left was a fog of disorientation, which took some effort to shake off.
He found himself in an opulent room, tastefully decorated despite its lavishness. Mahogany panelled walls, high ceilings, and tall windows were hidden behind heavy emerald drapes. At the centre of the room stood a magnificent four-poster bed, where Remus could see a lump curled underneath the blanket.
As he approached, he recognised the black hair strewn across the pillow and saw those familiar onyx eyes open and dark with mistrust.
Remus startled as the door swung open. A handsome, middle-aged man strode into the room confidently, pausing at the end of the bed.
"I see that you are awake, child," he greeted softly yet Remus could hear the anger coiled beneath the words.
Severus shifted under the covers and regarded the man with wary eyes. "Who...?" he paused to clear his throat. "Who are you? Where am I? Did you heal me?"
The stranger smiled predatorily, and Remus' unease deepened tenfold.
"Of course I healed you, child! You would have died otherwise!" Remus growled at the statement. "My name is irrelevant at the moment. Though I suppose you may call me Marvolo if you so desire. We are currently in my ancestral home, Slytherin Manor."
Severus' already pale face whitened even further if that was possible. "You are the Dark Lord," he stated simply, his limbs tense with the primal instinct to flee.
Remus blinked at the man in disbelief. Wasn't You-Know-Who meant to look like a monster? Twisted beyond recognition, not a charming, handsome human?
The Dark Lord inclined his head in acknowledgment, amusement glittering in his eyes. "My my, you are a clever boy." The Dark Lord moved nearer, perching gracefully on the edge of the bed. His teal gaze darkened, almost reverent. "And your magic," he breathed, "it is exquisite. Utterly divine, child. Do you feel it? That depth? That darkness?"
Severus remained still, hist posture guarded. Remus recognised Severus' stance - his mask when locking his emotions behind stoic eyes. "I do not comprehend," he replied flatly.
The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow, darkly amused. "That ritual you attempted, child. It practically summoned me towards you like a siren song." His thin finger traced the curve of Severus' cheek, "You attempted to heal yourself with a healing ritual, did you not?"
Severus gave a sharp nod, the pain evident in his brightened eyes.
"I think you know that you were unsuccessful in your endeavour," the Dark Lord continued, voice gentle and cruel. Another nod came, sharper this time.
"You mistakenly placed your owl's corpse in the wrong circle. Simply put, my dear child, you unwittingly attempted necromancy." He chuckled, low and pleased. "Merlin, your magic was splendid."
Severus did not reply. He kept his expression blank, but Remus could see the tension coiling in his frame. The Dark Lord smiled at the child's behaviour.
"You attend Hogwarts, yes?" The Dark Lord prompted. Severus nodded an affirmative.
"And your House?"
Severus carefully met the Dark Lord's eyes. "Slytherin, sir."
a knowing smile touched the Dark Lord's lips. "Yes, I suspected as much. That Muggle in your house - your father, I presume?"
"Yes, sir," Severus answered steadily, yet his eyes were quickly darting around the room for an escape route.
The Dark Lord hand settled lightly on his shoulder, meant to soothe but laced with possession.
"Do not fear, child," he murmured gently, "I do not murder muggleborns. You are safe with me."
Remus jolted in surprise. 'Safe? Wasn't he supposed to be the scourge of Muggleborns? Isn't that what the Prophet and Dumbledore have been saying for the past couple of years?'
Severus visibly doubted, but felt the need to interrupt. "I am a half-blood, sir," the Dark Lord's burning gaze locked onto his - Severus flinched. "My mother was a witch."
"Was she?" he murmured softly. "I did not find a wand in the house. Did she lose it mayhaps?"
Severus shook his head, shame and anger painting every word he spoke. "She snapped it," he spat venomously, "For him. He hated freaks like us. So she snapped her wand to please him!"
Remus felt like his heart bleeding for the fierce boy on the bed. So much hate and rage for the woman who should have been the person who cared for him the most. So much anger that could have been prevented if only Eileen Prince had protected her son.
An unintelligible hiss escaped the Dark Lord's throat. He glared at nothing in particular. "Outrageous! A witch belittling herself so lowly for a muggle!"
"I am aware," Severus whispered, voice cracking. "She let him hurt me. She could have stopped him any time she wanted," the words were a broken whisper by the end.
Remus saw how Severus' lips trembled with the need to cry.
Then, the Dark Lord did something Remus did not expect the man to be capable of. He gently wrapped his arms around Severus' shaking frame, guiding his face to his shoulder.
"There is no shame in crying, child," he murmured softly.
Sobs tore from Severus' throat, raw and painful.
Remus reached instinctively towards Severus, but his hand passed through Severus’ spectral form. Voldemort held him like a parent might. He stroked Severus’ back as though trying to mend the wounds of a lifetime.
"You are safe, child," The Dark Lord whispered. "You are safe with me."
The memory faded and twisted around Remus, the edges of the room warping until it reshaped itself. It was the same room, but a different hour. Pale sunlight streamed through drawn curtains, bathing the bedroom in gentle gold.
The Dark Lord was not present this time.
Instead, Bellatrix Lestrange sat cross-legged on the bed beside Severus radiant with a manic glee that he recognised from Sirius. and Lucius Malfoy lounged nearby, poised in a small wingback armchair like an aristocratic painting.
"Cheer up, Severus!" Bellatrix chirped, prodding his shoulder with long painted nails. "My Lord is looking after you now. You're under his protection! He's promised to mentor you personally. What's there to mope about?"
Lucius met Severus' eyes over Bellatrix's head, and rolled them in exasperation. "Do calm down, Bella," the blonde instructed, "Ignore her theatrics, Severus. I am sure you must be feeling nervous. You do not know the Dark Lord's true aims, and that is why we are here."
Bellatrix waved the Malfoy away, "Nonsense! I came here to see my friend! My Lord did not ask me to come!"
Severus spared Bellatrix a worried glance. "Does that Dark Lord know you are here, Bella?"
She beamed, nodding her head enthusiastically. "Of course! Don't think you are the only person My Lord mentors. There is Rodo, Rab, Lucius, me - and now you! We are to be his new inner circle."
"I am not even a Death Eater, Bella," Severus protested, voice quietly. "How could I be in his inner-circle?"
Bellatrix grinned, vaguely menacing.
Lucius, seeing his sister-in-law's expression, attempted to reassure his friend. "That is why the Dark Lord has asked me to explain his vision. He is certain that once you understand it, you will want to join."
Bellatrix nodded her head. "Yes his plans are nothing like the slanderous nonsense the Prophet has been spewing!" she declared vehemently, "And you know I wouldn't devote myself to anyone who had stupid ideas."
Severus chuckled at the quip, his lips quirking. "Fine, indoctrinate me. Let's hear the Dark Lord's plans!"
Envy shot through Remus. How easily these two could lighten Severus' spirits - how comfortable they were in his word. It is unreasonable. I have no right to be jealous! But I dearly hope they are with him now to cheer him up. I hope he's not alone.
Lucius cleared his throat. "Let us start with the glaringly obvious: muggleborns," he shifted forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "The Dark Lord despises muggles because of their attitude towards wizards. Their ignorance of magic. Their abuse." Lucius spared a pained glance at his friend. "You are living proof of that, Severus," he murmured gently.
The younger wizard smiled sardonically. "Quite."
"The Dark Lord, however, does not hate muggleborns. What he hates is their current impact on the magical world. The erosion of our traditions and rituals. Samhain and Yule, the solstice rituals. They are all being replaced by muggle holidays and it is not right!"
Remus glanced thoughtfully at the blonde. He supposed that it was true. Yule had quietly faded during his childhood. Moony mourned it.
"Magic is suffering without the ancient rituals. They are a conduit between Mother Magic and her children. Today, so many wixen take her gift and do not honour the origin. So many pureblood families who have forsaken the ancient ways have lost their ancestral gifts."
"So what does the Dark Lord propose about muggleborns, then?" Severus questioned curiously, "Surely he cannot expect them to unlearn a lifetime overnight?"
"Magical primary schools, Sev!" Bellatrix declared as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Most purebloods attend some kind of school before Hogwarts. So, why not muggleborns or muggle-raised? Introduce them to rituals and etiquette before they start Hogwarts? They could have a module about traditions, etiquette, and basic skills like how to write with a quill. Give them a chance to understand our world."
That would have helped. Remus thought, remembering how his mum knew nothing about etiquette and how much he awkwardly mistepped in his first year trying to catch up. I accidentally insulted Frank in first year by not bowing to him when we first met!
Severus looked rather dumbfounded. "I agree with the Dark Lord's plans for Muggleborns," he stated incredulously, "I never thought I would say that."
Lucius nodded empathetically. "But I know what you're really thinking. What about those raids? The killings?"
"Well...yes. Surely the Dark Lord cannot be this paradigm of virtue if he murders innocent people."
"Those muggles are not innocent, Sev!" Bella cried, her hazel eyes wide with disgust. "Those are the parents of muggleborns who...who...abuse their children!" She declared with some effort.
Children were sacred in the wixen world. Magical pregnancies were hard on the witch's body and few children rarely survived infancy. Children were worshipped. Muggles harming their children was tantamount to murder to a wixen.
Remus felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. The thought of killing someone turned his stomach, yet the thought of those child-abusers being left alive caused Moony to howl in outrage. It sickened him to realise that he would fully support the Dark Lord if it meant justice would be served for those poor children.
"Is..." Severus trailed off and swallowed nervously. "Is that why the Dark Lord was so angry when I awoke?" he questioned quietly.
Bellatrix quieted, gaze suddenly somber. “Yes,” she said, almost reverently. “The Dark Lord was furious. He doesn’t abide cruelty toward children - not from muggles or wizards.”
Lucius nodded slowly. “He intended to deal with your father himself. Said it was his ‘obligation.’ But your father was already dead.”
Severus’ expression was unreadable. “So he was… disappointed?”
“No,” Lucius replied, voice low. “He was grieved. He said a child like you deserved vengeance, not just healing.”
Remus felt the edges of the room blur, not from the pensieve magic, but from the weight of the truth pressing into him. The pain, the warped tenderness of Voldemort’s protection, the twisted logic behind Severus’ path - it all coalesced into something devastatingly human.
Severus simply gave a tight nod, then turned his face toward the window where golden morning light poured across the floorboards like mercy.
"Let's not forget magical beings!" Bellatrix continued, voice sharp with conviction. "My Lord wishes to end all these prejudices against them."
Remus' ears perked up at this. What could the Dark Lord wish to do about magical beings? Didn't he just want to continue the suppression? Didn't he believe in blood supremacy?
"Take the centaurs for example. They are forced to live in the Forbidden Forest yet a hundred years ago they used to roam Britain freely! Or goblins! They've been suppressed for hundreds of years because no-one will end those archaic laws against them having a wand. And what about vampires and werewolves! They are not allowed jobs - for what reason?! Because they were born, or were turned into, a different species?"
Remus straightened slightly.
"The full moon is only once a month - well sometimes twice if there’s a blue moon, but my point stands! Let them work day shifts, or let them use holiday pay. And vampires! Give them access to donated blood or set up a system for live donations. Let them live, not just survive!"
Severus' eyes were open wide at the witch's passionate diatribe, and he surreptitiously inched further away from the fuming woman. Lucius suppressed a smile behind his hand.
"It's slightly more complicated than that, Bellatrix," Lucius began dryly, "Logistically, it will take quite some time to figure out…"
"Pish!" Bella waved Lucius aside. "Right as we speak, your father is introducing a bill into Wizengamot that will make it illegal to discriminate against vampires and werewolves!"
"It probably won't pass though, Bellatrix," Lucius admitted with a frown "Even though it has the support of my father, Lord Black, Lord Greengrass, Lord Potter, and Lord Parkinson, there are many influential lords and ladies who will vote against it. I'm afraid they outnumber our side."
Severus stared incredulously at Lucius. "Surely Charlus Potter does not support the Dark Lord? Potter Jr. practically kisses the ground Dumbledore walks on!"
Lucius chuckled at Severus' confusion. "No, no. Charlus Potter does not support the Dark Lord, he just merely agrees with my 'father's'" Lucius mimed speech marks at the mention of Abraxas Malfoy "plans for magical beings."
Severus made a soft noise of understanding.
"So!" Bellatrix said sweetly, her grin slightly maniacal to the wary onlookers. "Will you be a Death Eater, Sev?"
Lucius also added his curious gaze onto Severus. Severus rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I will have to discuss it more with you, and do some independent research."
Bellatric groaned.
Severus rolled his eyes at her impatience. "But, from what I have heard...I do believe I will."
Bellatrix released a squeal of excitement and smiled widely at Severus.
Lucius leaned forward in his chair and gave him a solemn look. "So what else would you like to know, Severus?"
"Well, what are the Dark Lord's views on the Ministry?"Lucius opened his mouth to answer, but Bellatrix was quicker to retort.
"He thinks they're a bunch of incompetent twats!" Bellatrix stated matter-of-factly.
Lucius looked horrified. "Bellatrix! Narcissa would die if she heard you speaking like that!" Lucius questioned; scandalised.
Bellatrix cackled loudly before straightening her spine and adopting a look of grace. "Narcii would say something like 'Bellatrix, dear, whilst I agree with the sentiment, I must object to the vulgarity of your phrasing!'"
Remus smiled at Lucius' outraged face, but the smile faded as he looked at Severus.
He was smiling, fond and soft. Bickering friends around him. Trust in his eyes.
Remus stared longingly at the sight, as the memory faded and warped around him.
He landed hard on the office floor, breath catching, throat dry. The pensieve still swirled softly, innocently - as if it hadn’t just poured the truth into him like potion steam.
Within moments, everything quieted.
His conflicting emotions and thoughts calmed.
He knew now that Severus the Death Eater and Severus the wounded, brilliant, herb-plucking potioneer were the one and the same. He hadn’t sacrificed his soul. He’d done what he had to. Remus should have trusted him.
He was a good man.
And Remus knew that he would follow Severus to the ends of the Earth if needs be.
Because he, Remus John Lupin, was utterly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Severus Tobias Snape.
Now, he just needed to convince Severus of that.
But first, he needed to apologise.
I'll be fine
Same day
Seventh Year Boys Dormitory - Gryffindor Tower
Remus tore through the corridors, Slughorn’s door still echoing behind him. Students passed by in a blur as Remus weaved between them. Some grumbled as he shoved past, others just stared as Peeves' attempted to waylay him, but he would not be stopped. The world narrowed to one goal.
Breathing erratically, he burst through the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, and hurriedly rushed up the stairs into his dorm room.
"Moony?" Sirius looked up from where he was lounging on his bed, with a muggle magazine opened to a page with an indecently-clad woman upon it. His grey eyes were a mixture of concern and shock as he stared at his friend. "Merline, you look like you’ve been chased by a Dementor.” His voice was light, but his eyes carried a flicker of worry.
"I…" Remus glanced nervously at his best friend, before yanking parchment and ink from his bedside drawer. "I've got to write a letter."
Sirius pushed his Muggle magazine aside. "I can see that, Moony. But what's the rush?"
Remus didn’t answer. His hands shook as he dipped the quill.
Silently, Sirius rose from the bed and placed a comforting hand upon Remus' shoulder. "Moony, what's happened?" he questioned, his voice unusually serious.
Slowly, Remus' lifted his gaze, green dark and rimmed with guilt. He swallowed nervously. "I've done something bad, Padfoot," he admitted quietly. "I've ruined him, broken him beyond repair." Remus trailed off into incomprehensible mumbling.
Sirius stared at his friend in concern. "What are you talking about, Moony?" he said, his voice too loud in the quiet dormitory. "What have you done?"
"He," Remus gripped the quill tighter in his hand, "He told me he was in love with me," he whispered.
Sirius reared back as if he was struck and stared aghast at his friend.
"And I...Oh Gods," Remus pulled his shaking fingers through his hair. "I told him I hated him!"
The silence stretched.
Then Sirius declared: “Good."
Remus froze. “What?”
It felt like his newly repaired view of his friend was crumbling before him.
"It's not natural," Sirius said with a sneer. "Men loving men - it's wrong. You definitely reacted in the right way by telling that queer where to go."
Remus slowly turned to look Sirius in the eyes. "You're homophobic? I thought purebloods thought it was okay?"
"Of course, dark purebloods tolerate it," he sneered. "They use illegal blood magic to get an heir, but it's wrong Remus. You know that," Sirius said and frowned at his friend. "You've experienced it first-hand the natural reaction of hatred towards faggots."
He rose on unsteady feet and began to back away from his friend.
"Don't say that.." Remus commanded, voice low and tight. "Don't say that word in front of me."
"Faggot?" Sirius scrunched his face in confusion. "Why not? It's what they are."
Remus inhaled sharply, and caught Sirius' gaze in a hard stare. "If he's a faggot for being loving me," he began with quiet fury. "Then I'm a faggot too because I love him."
Remus watched with sadness and disappointment as Sirius recoiled in shock.
"No," Sirius was ashen-faced. "You're having me on. You must be! You said you hated him!" he accused angrily.
"Not because he loved me. Never because of his love."
"No! No, no, no, no," Sirius repeated the word as if it would somehow right the world once again.
He began pacing the floor of the dormitory, agitation charging his movements. "It's just a phase. You're just confused. Can't you see it, Remus?" Sirius grasped Remus by the arms and shook him slightly. "You're just confused. All this stress from the N.E.W.T.s is getting to you. You just need a lie-down."
Sirius' gaze was wild, and he forced Remus backwards onto the bed. "Just go to sleep, Moony. You'll feel all better in the morning," Sirius was almost crooning the words, trying to soothe both Remus and himself.
"Stop it, Sirius!" Remus demanded loudly, struggling under Sirius' grip. "It's not a phase. I am gay! I'm in love with another man and there's nothing you can do to change that!"
Something dangerous flashed in Sirius' grey eyes, and all Remus knew before the world went black was Sirius' cold voice. "We'll see about that."
you'll be fine
Sometime later that day
“...you cast the silencing wards?”
“Of course I have, Wormtail!”
Remus drifted into consciousness like a drowning man reaching the surface - one gasp at a time.
His ears rang, painfully loud. Lights pulsed behind his closed eyes. When he finally forced them open, the familiar outline of the Gryffindor dormitory came into focus.
He was on the floor.
Voices swam around him. Sirius, James, Peter. Distant, muffled.
Then he groaned. A face leaned over him.
James. Worried. Pale.
Remus tried to move.
His arms wouldn’t respond. Neither would his legs.
Thick magical vines coiled around him. Incarcerous. Loose enough to mock his strength, tight enough to hold him down.
His pulse thundered as he twisted his neck upward and locked eyes with Sirius. The boy knelt beside him, his touch unnervingly soft.
“Shhh,” Sirius murmured, voice tight. “Don’t struggle. Please, Moony, we just..we want to help.”
Remus recoiled.
“Just listen,” James said from behind him, voice deep and strained. “Sirius said you’re… confused. But we’ve found something that will help.”
Help?
The word scraped across Remus’ nerves like broken glass.
“What are you doing?” he roared.
Peter slid into view, tone eerily calm. “We found a spell. Old magic for wixen in crisis. It’s safe, Remus. It’s healing.”
Remus felt as if his heart had dropped into his stomach as he realised what Peter meant.
Panic surged. He thrashed against the bindings, breath hitching in terror.
“You don’t understand!” Remus screamed. “I love him!”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then James lit a candle.
Peter pulled out a page of handwritten notes.
Then the three of them joined voices.
"Mother Magic, hear our prayer," they intoned as one, "We, James Charlus Potter, Sirius Orion Black, Peter Percy Pettigrew, request that you heal our brother, Remus John Lupin, in his time of need! We give you flames-"
James passed his hand over the candle, which sputtered and flickered.
"-And blood of the devoted-"
Hesitantly they pricked their thumb and dripped a minuscule amount of blood onto the carpet.
"To return our brother, Remus John Lupin, whole.
The air went still.
Then the walls bled silver.
Tendrils of ancient magic seeped from every stone, curling toward Remus like living smoke.
He screamed as the tendrils inched closer to him.
The first tendrils laced through his skin and plunged into his chest. They swarmed through his blood - searching, pulling, dissecting - until they pierced his heart.
Moony rose in protest - howling, furious, defensive. But the spell was older than any beast and his howls died down into yelps of pain.
The tendrils tore through his chest, leaving white hot agony in their wake.
Another tendril pierced his spine, leaking poison into his veins and searing his blood.
His limbs convulsed, head thrown back in an endless animalistic roar of pain until he felt as if his throat was torn apart with his screams.
He choked on air.
On betrayal.
The vines snapped under the pressure of his body writhing. He collapsed, curling inward into a foetal position. He clawed uselessly at his arms. Flesh tore open, and the heavy tang of iron flooded his nose and set his eyes watering
Something burning hot and wet slid down over his chest and seeped into the carpet below him.
Distantly, Remus could make out the frantic voices of the Marauders.
Through hazy vision he saw Sirius lunge toward him - only for a tendril to lash out and hurl him across the room.
The tendrils ravaged his body - greedy and relentless - searching for something Remus couldn't name. Until finally -
Something inside Remus gave.
Bright and beautiful.
It floated from his opened mouth and vanished into the waiting tendrils above. They pulsed once before, seemingly satisfied, they dissipated back into the walls.
Remus collapsed, bloodied fingers twitching against the carpet. His soul felt threadbare.
Something was missing. Something vital had been ripped away.
Moony whimpered inside him.
He tried to move. To get away. But his limbs didn't work.
The world began to lose focus.
Fuzzily, he could make out the maroon leather shoes that James persisted in wearing, and the faint peppermint scent of his breath ghosted closed.
Fingers fumbled for a pulse.
Moments passed by slowly.
"He's alive," James’ gasp was full of relief.
Sirius was silent, eyes wide.
Peter scrambled for the cloak.
Remus let darkness claim him.
this moment seems so long
12th September 1978
Master Warring’s Quarters - The Potions Guild, London
Remus, my dearest love,
Forgive me for writing. I know I said I would leave you in peace but I fear I cannot bear not knowing if you are well. Slughorn told me you suddenly disappeared after I departed Hogwarts. Dumbledore told him you had a family emergency. I hope your mother is okay.
Is it conceited that I initially thought this was because of me? But I dearly hope you are well, Remus, and I hope I am not the reason for you withdrawing from the society of your friends.
Slughorn also said you obtained the highest grade in History of Magic. I always knew you were the best in the class, and I am so very proud of you. I doubt my admiration means much to you now, but it is freely given nonetheless.
I wish you the very best and I will only add, may Mother Magic bless you.
SS
Severus sank into the armchair with a long, worn-out breath. Yet another tireless day apprenticing under Master Robyn Warring's watchful eye had left him raw, both physically and emotionally. The elderly Potions Master demanded excellence, and Severus was only too happy to oblige to throw everything he had into every task as if effort alone could silence the aching emptiness inside him.
From across the room, enveloped within his own armchair, Master Robyn studied his apprentice with something close to affection. The Potions Master would not admit it to his apprentice, but he had been extremely impressed by Severus' aptitude. Potions came to him as naturally as breathing. He had never seen a wix with so much untapped potential and was very eager to impart his knowledge upon his apprentice and watch him grow and evolve.
The only concern he had with young Severus was his worrying lack of care over his health. At first, he had been suitably impressed by Severus' dedication to potions, but dedication alone didn’t account for Severus’ brittle sleep patterns, his absent appetite, or the shadows permanently etched beneath his eyes.
Given his occasional proneness to despondency, Master Robyn rather thought Severus had been unlucky in love. Age had taught him that heartbreak, especially for the quiet ones like Severus, carved deeper wounds than grief. He could only hope, for Severus' sake, that he did not dwell on things that had passed.
Watching his young apprentice lightly dozing opposite him, Master Robyn resolved himself to having an awkward and uncomfortable conversation with Severus tomorrow morning. All in the name of the young man's mental health and wellbeing. It had nothing to do with any paternal feelings his young apprentice might be stirring in him.
Not at all.
A tapping sound broke the moment. He turned and saw a rather harried-looking post owl pecking loudly on the window pane. Groaning at the prospect of moving, he placed his hands on the arms of the chair ready to lever himself up upright, when Severus jolted from his seat.
"I will get the owl, Master Robyn. You stay seated."
The Potions Master wasn't going to complain about this development, and settle himself more comfortably into the welcoming embrace of the armchair.
He watched Severus crack the window open, only for the owl to immediately bypass him to settle on the perch near Master Robyn's chair, so it could bask in the warmth of the fireplace beside him.
Severus made a noise of frustration, which had Master Robyn smirking.
"He's a smart bird, you have to grant him that, lad," he told his apprentice, untying the letter from the owl.
His smirk faded into a frown as he read the parchment:
RETURN TO SENDER
Recipient: Remus J. Lupin, Hope Cottage, Aberystwyth
Sender: Severus T. Snape, The Potions Guild, London
Glancing at his young apprentice, Master Robyn sighed . Severus was staring at the letter with dread.
It looked as if he was going to have that conversation with Severus sooner than he thought.
don't waste now, precious time
12th October 1979
St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London
Severus idly trailed his fingers along the wall as he strode through the hospital wing, robes billowing behind him. A scowl fixed permanently on his face served as a warning, which a medi-witch wisely followed as she evaded his gaze and ducked into a perpendicular corridor to avoid crossing his path.
Severus withheld the sneer that threatened to cross his face.
The young potions apprentice had developed something of a reputation amongst the hospital staff. Something about him being brilliant, exacting, and utterly lacking in what one might call 'bedside manner'.
Severus could not care one whit what they thought. He was doing his job, nothing more, nothing less. As Master Robyn's apprentice, he was expected to record the progress of the Sanare Nervos medical trial, an experimental nerve-repairing potion that he and Master Robyn had concocted. Feelings were utterly irrelevant unless they were related to the potion's efficacy.
Most of the staff understood that patient-care was not included in Severus' job description, and were content to leave him be. However, others, such as that annoying woman, March, detested his cold demeanour and were determined to improve it.
Speaking of the infernal witch.
Severus inwardly cursed the woman to Hades and back as she stalked purposefully towards him; with a file gripped firmly in her hand.
"Right-o, sonny!" she barked at him. "You've got a new patient to look over."
Severus raised an eyebrow in surprise.
It was rather late in the trial to receive a new patient. Some strings definitely must have been pulled for this to have happened, and Severus had to admit his curiosity had been piqued.
Seeing this, the woman scowled. "Now listen here! This lad's been in my care for the past year. He's been through hell. He doesn't need your scrutiny!"
Severus stared at the ceiling, exasperated.
"All of our patients have had a gruelling experience, ma'am," he drawled in the politest tone he could manage, "Otherwise they would not be trialling Sanare Nervos ."
"Don't sass me, lad," she snapped before marching off with an expectant glance towards the man. "Do keep up." she called condescendingly.
Severus ground his molars and acquiesced.
"He's in the long-term ward at the moment but he will be transferred tonight."
"He's only nineteen," she continued, voice softening slightly.
Severus' curiosity increased tenfold. The youngest participant they had was twenty-eight. For a nineteen-year-old to have suffered such extensive nerve damage at that age... Well, it was quite remarkable.
She hesitated before adding. "And he's a werewolf. Don't you dare hold that against him, though!"
Severus halted.
His blood turned to ice.
There couldn't be that many nineteen-year-old werewolves in Britain.
His heart thudded painfully. “Is he conscious?”
Healer March ducked her head around a privacy curtain and sighed softly to herself. "He's sleeping at the moment," she informed Severus tightly, "The poor mite never sleeps long though. He was in a coma for seven months and is reluctant to sleep most days now."
"Let me see him," Severus said sharply.
She cast him a suspicious look. "Absolutely not!" she snapped. "Did you not just hear me! He's sleeping! I won't let you disturb him!"
Severus ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Let me see his file. Please!" he implored, his onyx eyes wide with fear. "Please! It can't be him."
Healer March was regarding him with something akin to worry now, and she took a startled step towards him. "Only Master Robyn can access prior medical history."
"At least tell me when he was admitted," Severus begged, voice cracking. "Just the date, please."
Healer March hesitated briefly, before flicking through to the correct page. "21st June 1978."
The world tilted.
He nearly staggered.
'That was the day after that night."
The witch watched as his face fell, and his entire being seemed to collapse in on itself. She had never seen the brooding, self-assured man like this before.
"Sonny?" she questioned warily and placed a light hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Severus chuckled mirthlessly and angrily wiped at his eyes. "Please tell me his name."
She hesitated. Snape seemed to be clinging onto the answer like a drowning man.
"Remus John Lupin."
Severus' blank mask crumbled completely. "Do you know him?" she asked tentatively, and Severus raised his onyx eyes, shining with so much raw emotion, and nodded.
"Yes," he gasped out, "Gods, I thought he was ignoring me," he whispered to himself, "I could live with that. If he hated me for all his days, I could honestly live with that! But I thought he was safe !"
The healer knew that Severus didn't mean to be saying these things to her, or out loud for that matter. So, making her decision, she gripped him tightly by the arm and guided him into the cubicle.
There, laid on the bed, was Remus. Thinner than Severus remembered, lips parted slightly, brow furrowed even in rest.
Severus staggered shakily towards the bed, and collapsed to his knees. With trembling fingers, he blindly fumbled or his hand, unwilling to tear his gaze off the other man. Grasping the hand tightly, he pressed a kiss to the underside of the wrist -just as he had done all those months ago.
He lay his head against the hand and let his tears gather silently in the creases of Remus’ palm.
A soft cough drew his attention away.
Severus stared at the healer, uncaring about the display he just performed in front of her.
"I'll leave the two of you alone for a moment," she said gently, placing something upon the bedside table before leaving.
It took Severus a moment to realise that the object she left behind was Remus' file. He grabbed it from the table and swiftly drank the words in.
Fury erupted in his gut as each sentence drove him to new heights of anger.
(Jun 1978 - ongoing): extensive trauma to radial digital radial nerve (R)
(Jun 1978 - ongoing): extensive trauma to dorsal digital radial nerve (R)
(Jun 1978 - Jan 1979): incomplete magical core extraction - Male Sanae ritual
(Jun 1978 - Aug 1977): trauma to nerves from C2 and C3 root
(Jun 1978 : lacerations
(Jun 1978) blood loss
Severus inhaled sharply.
His vision blurred.
Remus had suffered so much whilst he was absent.
Who would even attempt the Male Sanae ritual? It was hideously outdated from a millenia ago, and even then was only ever used as a last resort when conventional healing methods had no effect. For a healthy person, the ritual would cause unnecessary pain but it shouldn't have touched the magical core.
The last time he saw Remus he was perfectly healthy, so why had the ritual tried to remove his mag-
The ritual must have attempted to rip the wolf from Remus when it found nothing else wrong with him.
The only 'cure' to lycanthropy was full magical core extraction.
The ritual must have torn at his core.
Severus gripped Remus’ hand tighter, teeth clenched, heart spiraling into rage. He could only imagine the agony he experienced, the trauma from that, the coma, and the recovery.
He would find whoever was responsible.
And they would wish for death.
"Remus!" a cheerful voice sang out as the curtain parted. A young witch entered the cubicle, bearing a tray laden with food. Her smile faltered when she saw Severus.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know he had company," the witch faltered for a second before a beaming smile graced her face. "Wait...You must be Severus!" she cried enthusiastically. She shuffled further towards the bed, and placed the tray on the table with far more grace than Severus originally thought she possessed.
Severus glanced up slowly, caught off guard.
“I –” he began.
"Remus talks about you all the time!" she gushed, fanning her face with her hand. "Oh! He'll be so happy you're here! He never gets any visitors. I told him that I'd owl you myself, but he always refused. Insisted that he wanted to do it himself. But with the nerve damage...you know?" She fired out rapidly but Severus was still caught on his first sentence.
His red-rimmed eyes stared at her in confusion.
"He talks about me?" he whispered.
She nodded eagerly. "Always! How clever you are, how handsome-" She blushed, but continued beaming nonetheless. "So how did you find him then? Remus wouldn't have been able to write you."
Severus glanced at her searchingly and seemed to find nothing threatening about her person. "I am Master Robyn's apprentice," he stated quietly. The witch frowned in confusion, before recognition lit her face.
"Oh! The nerve healing potion!" she exclaimed exuberantly. "I hadn't heard that Healer March's application was successful! I'm so happy for Remus. The potion sounds really promising!"
Severus was rather taken aback at the speed at which the witch was speaking.
"That's so romantic!" She gushed out and Severus raised an eyebrow in incredulity. The witch blushed further. "I mean it's so romantic that you're reunited through the thing that's going to heal him."
"I..." Severus was lost for words at the witch's train of thought, before he remembered her earlier words.
"Remus told you I was handsome?" Severus asked, furiously squashing the hope that was rekindling in his chest. "Why would he say that?"
The witch giggled to herself and shook her head at Severus. "Why wouldn't he, silly! He's smitten with you, of course!" the witch laughed gently at Severus' dumbfounded look before jolting in surprise.
"Oh! I've got to dash. I need to give other patients their lunch. But he'll be thrilled you're here. Bye!" she chirped before jogging from the cubicle.
Severus watched the witch leave in shock before turning back to the sleeping Remus.
"You're smitten with me?" he repeated softly.
And for the first time in a year, a slow smile stretched his features.
Nothing could ruin this moment for him.
Anticipation ravaged Severus' mind, but the smaller man would have to wake up sooner-or-later. Severus already knew Remus was an insomniac, and with the smell of beef hotpot that the witch brought in, he would likely wake sooner rather than later.
Sure enough, ten minutes passed. The scent of beef hotpot lingered, and Remus began to stir.
Severus avidly watched every move Remus made and noted that the smaller-man was one of the people who awoke slowly and groggily. Severus usually woke instantly. The large yawn which stretched Remus' mouth open, caused a fond smile to appear on Severus' face. Remus truly was adorable.
Severus squeezed lightly on Remus' hand, and the werewolf immediately tensed. Slowly, Remus' head turned toward him, and those gorgeous green eyes widened in shock.
"Hello, Remus," his voice was silky smooth.
"Sev?" Remus' voice was hoarse and his green eyes bright with unshed tears. "You're really here," he murmured in an awed voice.
Severus chuckled lightly and nodded.
"Must you state the obvious, Remus?" he teased, but it didn't have the effect Severus' intended. Instead of smiling, Remus grimaced and turned away from Severus.
Frowning, Severus stood (ignoring his protesting knees) and reached for Remus' shoulders. Despite the position, Remus tried his hardest to avoid Severus' gaze but Severus was having none of it. Gently, insistently, he placed one finger under Remus' chin and tilted it up.
"Please, don't look away from me," he murmured softly.
Remus' frame shook lightly, but he met Severus' gaze. Ashamed.
"I hurt you," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I never hated you. I should have let you explain."
"I'm glad to hear you don't hate me, Remus," Severus said softly, brushing a finger down Remus' cheek. He smiled gently even wider when Remus leaned into the touch. "And I'm sorry - for not telling you sooner. Then we could have avoided this entire mess, and you wouldn't have to be in this hospital bed." Severus glanced down at Remus' face, "I'm so sorry, Remus."
Remus shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Sev," Remus' face was understandingly calm, "This...It would have happened whether or not we had that argument. The Marauders...," his voice cracked slightly at the mention of his former friends, "They weren't very happy when they found out I was gay."
Severus stared at Remus in shock. "Your friends did this??
Remus nodded. “They couldn’t accept that I loved a man.”
Severus trembled. “I could’ve protected you, cursed them into oblivion.” He swore lightly under his breath, "I could have cursed those bastards into oblivion and spared you all this pain."
"And what good would you do for me in Azkaban?" Remus inquired lightly, before sighing softly. "Do not blame yourself for what happened, Sev." Remus narrowed his eyes in irritation. "I mean it, Sev. It's not your fault."
"Then whose is it?" Severus asked loudly and slightly-crazed.
“Theirs,” Remus said, steady now. “James, Sirius, Peter. It is their fault they couldn't handle the fact that I was in love,"
Remus lifted a hand to place atop of Severus' and he stared into onyx eyes without any fear.
Severus swallowed nervously.
Remus smiled gently and rubbed calming circles along Severus' hand. "I am in love, Severus," he declared, "With you."
Severus closed his eyes in bliss and released a harsh breath before a shaky smile stretched his face.
"Say it again," he breathed, pressing a trembling kiss to Remus' jaw. "Please. I need to hear you say…"
Severus was interrupted by Remus’ laughter. It was giddy, unrestrained, utterly radiant.
"I'm in love with you, Severus! Completely! Hopelessly! I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. I love you. I love you. I love you.I love you!"
“Merlin, yes,” Severus groaned, and captured Remus’ lips in a fierce, breathless kiss.
Moments passed in silence. The world narrowed to their bodies and breath - the hot rush of mouths meeting, tongues tangling, teeth grazing in messy urgency. They kissed like they’d waited lifetimes, like each second might collapse if they didn't claim it. where the only sounds heard were heavy panting and pleasured moans.
Remus' green eyes gleamed with lust and want, and Severus could come undone from that look alone. Burying his fingers into Remus' hair, Severus enjoyed the heady scent that was purely Remus and delighted in the sensation of having Remus in his arms.
Minutes passed and Severus paid them no heed until he pulled away and settled down beside the smaller man. Severus' long limbs quickly wrapped themselves around Remus' body, until Remus was fully ensconced within the other's arms.
“You do realise Mrs. Fields in the next bed over probably heard everything,” Remus said, voice coloured with amusement and a touch of embarrassment.
Severus snorted and pulled Remus closer to his chest. "The old biddy probably loved every minute of it," he muttered, "Though I must admit, perhaps we should keep exhibitionism off the schedule for the future. It's not really my cup of tea,"
He nipped at Remus’ ear affectionately.
“I fear I’m rather possessive,” he added, voice low and warm, “and I don’t want anyone but me witnessing how beautifully you come undone.”
Remus playfully swiped Severus' arm from where it was wrapped around his waist and huffed a soft laugh.
Severus rested his head against Remus’ shoulder, letting his breath sync with his lover’s rhythm. “I love you,” he whispered, soft as silk.
Remus hummed lightly in response and settled himself more comfortably in Severus' arms.
They knew there would be hard conversations ahead about allegiances, friendships, and what the future held.
But… Not right now.
Right now, there was only this.
The beginning of healing.
we'll dance inside the song
14th November 1986
Marybuds Cottage, Outer Hebrides, Scotland
Seven years passed far faster than Severus would have preferred.
Whilst the Sanare Nervos potion had been remarkably effective for the majority of the trial participants, including Remus. However, unlike others, he still experienced occasional pain in his right hand.
Master Robyn was not at all pleased with this. He hypothesised that Remus' lycanthropy had an effect on the potion's efficacy - that the lycanthropy curse has accelerated the potion’s metabolisation, destabilising its long-term potency. He continued tweaking the formula, determined to craft a universal version of the Sanare Nervos , which he later trialled in 1984 to overwhelming success.
Severus never missed a day at Remus’ bedside during his extended healing. He was the constant lover - visiting in-between rounds to provide companionship and devotion. After a few short weeks, Severus proposed. They swiftly bonded in March 1980, a month after Remus’ discharge from St Mungos. The Lestranges, Malfoys, and Regulus attended as guests as well as Slughorn and Master Warring attended as witnesses. Even the Dark Lord attended, in disguise as Regulus’ plus one. Remus invited no-one other than Healer March and Effie, the nurse who kept him company throughout his stay at St Mungos.
His former friends never made any attempt to apologise or reconcile. He couldn’t say he missed them, but he mourned who he thought they were.
Unsurprisingly, Severus rose quickly within the Potions and medical community. He passed his Potions apprenticeship with distinction, becoming Britain's youngest Potions Master and the youngest Potions Professor ever appointed to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The potion that granted Severus his mastery? A refined wolfsbane potion - revolutionary in its timing. Allowing the werewolf to consume it on the night of the full moon, whilst eliminating the cumbersome seven-day preparation.
However, the potion that thrust Severus into international fame was far more extraordinary.
A male fertility potion.
It allowed wizards to carry a child to term. Many pureblood factions across the world were ecstatic. Even those rare purebloods who detested same-sex couples could not protest the results. Generational infertility had long plagued their lines, and Severus’ breakthrough meant the number of wizarding children would inevitably increase. Monetary contributions poured in - some to further support male carriers, others requesting a version for female couples, and others requesting enhancement to existing fertility potions.
Few knew that one of the early trial participants was Remus Lupin, who successfully carried a child to term.
On 23 August, 1981, he gave birth, by wixen caesarean, to a healthy son.
His name was Andras Regulus Snape.
Severus and Remus were happy and content. They faced their share of trials and tribulations, from minor disagreements and misunderstandings to serious emotional upheaval. Regardless, they always reconciled any disagreements and always comforted one another. They knew the language of support: whispered comfort during long nights, quiet handholds through recovery, fierce loyalty when wounds reopened.
When Severus learned in the Spring of 1981 that Regulus had been cursed into an eternal enchanted sleep, Remus became a shadow of tireless devotion as Severus poured over ancient texts, brewed obscure potions at all hours of the night, his fingers stained with ink and potion residue. Through it all, Remus stayed away alongside, keeping him company. He never once complained - not when his eyes burned from lack of sleep. Not when hope thinned to threads.
And when that news was swiftly followed by the ‘death’ of the Dark Lord - Severus’ pseudo-father - Remus didn’t falter. He held Severus through the collapse, through the sobs that wracked his body and soaked Remus’ shoulder. He didn’t speak to offer platitudes. He simply held him
Time had not erased the pain, but it had softened its edges. In the quiet sanctuary they built together, grief slowly gave way to something steadier; something like peace.
Now, after a grueling day lecturing at Hogwarts, Severus stepped through the door of their cottage and was met with the kind of welcome that never grew old.
“Andras!” Severus gasped as his son raced to greet him at the door, launching himself forward waving a sheet of parchment with brightly-coloured shapes and proudly wearing paint splotches on his round cheeks. Severus swiftly scooped the young boy onto his hip and carried him into the sitting room with a smile.
Remus was waiting. Still handsome. Still his.
Severus leaned down further into the room to kiss Remus soundly on the lips.
Andras made noises of disgust but happily snuggled Severus' shoulder. He noticed the child's eyes beginning to droop.
"He's tired," Severus commented fondly, pressing a light kiss to his son's head.
"He stayed awake to see you," Remus replied, brushing hair gently from Andras’ brow.
Severus began to apologise for his late hours but Remus waved his concerns aside.
"We're happy, Sev," he whispered, "I know you're needed at Hogwarts during the day but you're ours in the evening.. That’s enough."
Severus carefully placed his son, who had swiftly fallen asleep, onto the sofa and turned back to Remus. Pulling him into his arms, he met those beautiful green eyes with endless devotion,
"I love you," he whispered, and captured his lips with his own.
He crooned sweet-nothings into Remus' ear but, after a few moments, Remus danced away Casting a monitoring charm on their sleeping son, he eagerly pulled Severus by the hand into their bedroom.
The bedroom door closed behind them with a soft click, cocooning them in warmth and lamplight. Remus pulled Severus close, noses brushing, smiles lingering. Outside, rain tapped gently against the windowpane, and Andras sighed in his sleep, wrapped safely in dreams. Severus kissed the hollow of Remus’ throat and whispered a promise not for tomorrow, but for every night that followed. And as they sank into each other with aching tenderness, magic settled in the room like a blessing.
And for once, in a life carved from chaos, everything was still. Everything was enough.