FIC: A Tale of One and Two (In Three Parts), Snape/Lupin
My contribution to this year’s Snupin Santa. It’s not likely everyone’s cup of tea.

Title: A Tale Of One and Two (In Three Parts)
Author: captain_tulip
Pairings: Snape/Lupin, some Lockhart/Lupin.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Remus recalls the most significant moments of his relationship with Snape, and how Lockhart very nearly got in the way.
Warning(s): Offensive language.
Wordcount: 10,828
A/N: Written for last year’s Snupin Santa. My recipient dropped out so the brave brunaghot got this instead. :-)

*****

Part One

July, 1979

Lockhart, Remus mused, was a bit like Sirius in a way.

He mulled this thought around in his head as he carefully lifted the books out of the large cardboard box he was carrying and placed them on the shelf. He didn't dare voice this thought aloud  there was no one to hear it but the subject anyway, and it would be too difficult to explain without revealing certain things about his personality he'd feverishly kept hidden for the last nineteen years of his life. He cast a quick glance over at the younger boy, who'd caught a glimpse of himself in the golden cover of Monetary Matters of the Magical Majority and was furtively flattening his flyaway curls, and smiled a little to himself. Lockhart would never have Sirius's brilliance or natural ability, but he still had that easy charm that came with being effortlessly and ridiculously good-looking one's whole life.

Lockhart caught sight of him in the reflection. "Something you need, Remus?" He flashed a dazzling smile. Remus felt one of his eyes spasm slightly and surmised Lockhart must have done one too many brightening charms again.

"Fine, thank you." Remus turned his attentions back to his books. Grime and Nourishment: A Practical Guide to Ghoul Breeding went after The Great Gnatsby but before Grims and Grimness  or was it the other way around?

"Awfully dull working in a book shop, isn't it?"

E was definitely before s, so Remus kept it as it was and slid Great Transfigurations in next door. "Hmm?"

"Well, there's not all that much to do."

Remus sighed and placed the empty cardboard box on the floor beside his feet, exchanging it for another one. "You could read," he said dryly.

"This garbage?" Lockhart picked up The Snidget is a Lonely Hunter and waved it around. "I'd rather convince an Estranged Wand to go back to its owner." He shuddered theatrically to emphasise his point.

"That's a very interesting book, you know," Remus murmured. "The snidget is a much more complex creature than most wizards "

"I'm afraid, Remus, that your beloved snidget holds not a snidgeon of interest for me at all," Lockhart interrupted, primping his hair absent-mindedly. "I can't understand why non-fiction has to be so dull."

Remus opened his mouth, then slammed it shut quickly when he realised he was just about to get offended. "Well, I'll admit that a non-fiction book can be dull if you have no interest in the subject," he conceded. He noted Lockhart glaring at him with confusion tinged with irritation as he persisted in loading the books into the shelves by hand. "But that's what we have fiction for, you know," he continued. "Besides, if you're more interested in stories, what on Earth are you doing in a bookshop like this?"

"Well," Lockhart said, grinning maniacally, "the staff here are awfully good-looking."

Remus was just about to point out that they were currently the only two people employed in the little run-down shop when he realised what a fool he'd make of himself if he did so. "Oh," he said and laughed nervously, blushing. "Ah  ha ha."

It wasn't the first time Lockhart had made a comment of this sort but Remus was still entirely unused to it. Sometimes James and Sirius used to say lewd things back at school, especially when they were more-than-slightly drunk  "Y'know, Moony, if y'had a cunt I'd pro'lly fuck you,"  but they were never coupled with the lingering looks and the thick intentions like Lockhart's comments were. Lockhart, only just finished with school, was young for his age and Remus had no idea with what degree of seriousness he should take him. He still didn't even really know the other boy  why he was working in this crummy little bookshop on the shadier outskirts of Wizard London when he could be out flaunting his good-looks, for instance. Why he had flawless teeth, hair, nails and skin yet dressed in what could only be described as shabby, a look Remus had prescribed to long ago. Why he seemed determined to stay and flirt with Remus when he could probably have his pick of anyone.

He coughed self-consciously, placing the rest of his books carefully onto the shelf. "I suppose the reason a lot of non-fiction is so boring," he said, clumsily segueing back to their previous topic, "is that the only things people want to talk about and tell people are the mundane things. Anything halfway interesting and it's automatically a secret."

"Yes," Lockhart said in an odd tone of voice, "so I've noticed."

Remus glanced over to see Lockhart looking at him with an odd sort of intensity and once again he felt his cheeks start to colour. He cleared his throat. "Oh?"

"You, for instance."

Remus felt the bottom of his stomach drop to the floor amidst the empty cardboard boxes. His heart started to pound and he could feel all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. "Me?" he tried to affect a nonchalant stance but ended up tripping over Volume One of A Harrowing History of Hallucinogenic Hexes.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Lockhart laughed with a high trill. "It's been pretty obvious all along."

"Has it?"

"Of course. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Remus cursed silently to himself. He was an idiot to think Lockhart wouldn't notice. Every third year student at Hogwarts had studied werewolves for centuries. The odd bruising and scarring that crisscrossed all over his arms, different every month; his absences every full moon. They'd been working together here for nearly eight months now. He should have taken more care with his concealment charms, more care to cover himself up but with the recent hot summer days it was just so tempting to roll up his sleeves, or even forego his usually long shirts and slip on a light t-shirt. He hadn't even bothered to offer some lame explanation like he usually did, which was a pity because it was likely Lockhart would have bought it. It would have been harder to attribute his heightened paranoia and aggressiveness near the full moon, his odd disappearances, but at least it would have been something. Now Lockhart knew.

Bastard. Remus didn't know what would be worse, Lockhart telling someone or holding it over him as a bargaining chip. Werewolf registration was tightening and there's no way he'd be able to keep this job if his employer knew. He probably wouldn't be able to get another one if he was fired again, either.

"Oh, don't worry," Lockhart said breezily. "I won't tell anyone."

Remus let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster in his panic. Not starting out with a blatant threat was a good sign.

Lockhart chuckled, cocking his head slightly as he studied Remus. "Unless," he said slowly, running his eyes up and down the length of Remus's body in a manner that could only be considered suggestive, "you want me to."

Remus swallowed and frowned, trying and failing to place the tone in his voice, the look in his eyes. "Why," he said carefully, "would I want that?"

Lockhart grinned and Remus's eye twitched. "Well, are you planning on staying celibate forever?"

Remus gaped most ineloquently in his surprise. "W-what?"

"Remus, my dear friend," Lockhart said, leaning on the bookshelf behind him and affecting a model-esque pose, "I'm talking about sex. How's anyone going to know they've got a chance if you never tell them?"

Remus stared at him.

"I mean," said Lockhart, looking at Remus curiously, "you can't be getting much if people don't know."

Remus's mouth fell open. He scrutinised Lockhart openly, even allowing himself to sniff gently to detect any heightened levels of sweat. He gazed at Lockhart's face, and having finally come across no malicious intentions and detecting no sense of irony or sarcasm about his manner, he shook his head slowly. "Er, it's  well, you know," he said awkwardly, "it's more of a deterrent, actually."

Lockhart, to Remus's utter confusion and shock, burst out laughing. "A deterrent?" He raised a perfectly manicured finger to his eye and wiped away an invisible tear. "Your being gay turns other gays off?"

"My being  what?"

"Gay."

Remus stared at him blankly. Lockhart suddenly looked a tad uncertain.

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

"Are what?"

"Homosexual," Lockhart said. He suddenly gave a nervous laugh, frowning slightly. "What on Earth did you think we were talking about?"

"I  I hadn't a clue."

"Oh." Lockhart's face was rapidly losing its colour. "Well."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. The Knight Bus whizzed past the window with a loud excited horn and they both took a keen interest in it, turning their bodies completely around and staring stupidly out the window even after the bus had long since gone and there was no one left on their little street. The air suddenly seemed hotter and thicker, full of a weird sort of tension Remus couldn't quite place.

Lockhart suddenly cleared his throat, his face (Remus noted out of the corner of his eye) looking unusually grave. "It'd be, er, jolly decent of you to keep Mum about all this."

"So long as you keep Mum about me," Remus replied without thinking.

Remus, you utter pillock. What on Earth was the point in letting silly old Gilderoy Lockhart know something like that? He hadn't even told James and Sirius, although he was reasonably sure they had put two and two together somewhere around the time they'd been snooping around trying to find where he went each full moon and had seen more than their fair share of Remus's private stash of homoerotica. He grimaced as he sensed Lockhart turning towards him. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall of the building opposite.

"So you are?" Even without looking, Remus could tell he was beaming. Something about the way the words had to fit around his smile.

Remus nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Have you told anyone?"

Remus shook his head.

"Have you  experimented?"

Remus's small frame shrunk with shame as he shook his head again. He suddenly felt a warm hand at his chin, bringing his head around to look Lockhart in the eyes. His heart started to thump madly in his chest. "Fancy it?"

Remus was still in a state of shock when the little bell on the door rang, and he barely had time to think about what kind of picture they would make to incoming customers when a snide voice snapped, "If you're not too busy, I require some service."

Remus's thrashing heart stopped dead in his chest.

He felt the colour simultaneously rush into and drain out of his face.

He would recognise that voice anywhere; the voice that seemed to come deep from within the earth to rumble impossibly throughout the tiny, bony frame it inhabited. The lingering sneer with a lick of amusement, fear and curiosity that had so many times been his downfall.

But it couldn't be.

It simply couldn't.

"Snape?" said Remus stupidly, turning his head and immediately forgetting the warm fingers at his jaw. It was clear that Snape was equally as shocked when his schooled features slackened and his eyebrows lifted far above their usual perfected arch.

"Lupin."

There was a time when Remus adored the way Snape said his name, before tension and loyalties and mistrust but somewhat after burgeoning hormones. The way it seemed to lick in his mouth, caressing his lips and sliding the length of his tongue before slipping up finally to rest at the roof. It was somehow decadent yet precise, and something about his name being said with that deep quality gave Remus a curious sticky feeling somewhere near his chest.

I thought you were as good as dead.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Remus had filled in a million blanks by the time the words had left his mouth. It's a bookshop, you twit  what do you think I'm here for, babyfood? Not to see another grotesque display of public affection, I assure you. To continually reassure myself of my superior conversational skills  thank you, Lupin, that should be all. Did I not just state that as I walked in the door? I'll give you a few minutes to opine with one another. To confirm a report on two rampaging, law-tripping homosexuals in the area. To join the stupid starers anonymous club.

But nothing came from Snape's lips for some time, drastically reducing the possibility for quick, cutting comeback. He cleared his throat and tried narrowing his eyes again, which worked, more-or-less. "I'm looking for a book."

"You don't say," Lockhart said loftily and for some odd reason Remus felt like punching him in the face.

He cleared his throat. "What's its title?"

Snape shifted from one foot to another, still hovering most unusually in the doorway. "I'm reluctant to say, in the event that speaking it aloud activates one of its spells." He seemed to have found his tongue again and his brusque manner was becoming more and more convincing as he spoke. "I'm not entirely sure of all its properties yet, and it's somewhat dark."

"Oh, what an awful pity! I'm afraid we can't help you there, old chap. We only sell legal books. Cheerio." Lockhart flicked his wand and the door behind Snape swung open.

"We can most certainly look," said Remus quickly, watching Snape's face blossom with the beginnings of fury. "Would you like to write down the name of it?"

"Two steps ahead of you, Lupin." A strange look appeared in his eye as he removed a crisp piece of parchment from his pocket. "As always."

Remus focused his energy, wordlessly and wandlessly summoning the parchment from Snape's hand to his. "How could I forget," he murmured, and before he knew what he was doing his eyes were slipping down Snape's body, taking in the clean, smart trousers and crisp shirt underneath the expensive-looking robe. Whomever Snape had allied himself to, he was certainly doing well for himself. Remus had never seen him in clothes this luxurious, especially during his days at Hogwarts, where everything was dirty, tatty or both. Something about the shiny, patent-leather shoes and adorned fingers sent an odd shiver down his spine.

He suddenly became aware that he was openly and blatantly staring at Snape's body when Lockhart gave a short cough. His eyes snapped back up to Snape's face. Remus cleared his throat and unfolded the parchment in his hands.

12/12/79

This building has been Marked. I suggest you make an excuse to vacate the premises within the hour if you value your life.

S.

Remus looked up unsurely from the parchment. Snape's face had slipped into an impassive stare, giving nothing away.

Surely, surely this had to be a joke. Remus looked to Snape for some sore of reassurance, hoping that at any second he was going to crack a wry smile and thump him on the back  but that wasn't like Snape at all, was it? Remus looked back down again, just to be sure he'd read it properly.

This building has been Marked. I suggest you make an excuse to vacate the premises within the hour if you value your life.

It was without a doubt Snape's dark scrawling writing. Remus lifted his head to scrutinise Snape again, who idly pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to scratch at his forearm  and with a sickening jolt Remus recognised the Dark Mark in all its black, scabbed glory.

Remus's heart started to beat wildly in his chest. He flicked his eyes around, noting for the first time with a shock a small group of terrifyingly well dressed men waiting impatiently on the other side of the street. All of his earlier flirtatiousness and good-humour rapidly dissolved as he looked back at Snape and saw the urgency in his eyes. Suddenly, like a magician's trick being revealed, he noted Snape's bloodshot eyes, his
twitching hands, his pinched and drawn mouth.

"Well?" Snape asked, feigning (Remus suddenly realised) impatience. He reached out an elegant hand to take the parchment. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly during the transition and both men flinched, their eyes locking for a moment. Remus wanted to do a million things at that moment. Press the little symbol on his watch and alert the Order, like he should. Scream for the whole street to hear that Snape was a complete fucking idiot who had no excuse to ruin his life like this. Throw his arms around Snape, kissing him and murmuring platitudes of thanks into his ear until Snape gave in and fucked him right there on the floor.

Instead he just stood there.

"Well?" Snape repeated, his voice coming out a little hoarse.

"I think it's pretty obvious we haven't got it and Remus is offended that you would think so."

Snape's dark eyes swiveled momentarily from Remus's face to Lockhart's. "Is that so?" He looked back at Remus. "I shall take my leave, then."

"Wait!"

But with a swirl of his dark robe, he was gone.

"Golly, what was all that about? An early Halloween trick, I suppose?"


*****


Part Two

October, 1985

"Lycanthropy isn't a religion or a race. It's a disease."

Remus switched off his wireless in disgust, placing his mug down on the rickety table perched in front of him with a sigh. The New and Improved Werewolf Regulation Act had officially come into full force, and his wretched existence was now universally considered "a threat to the magical community and an insult to the pursuers of peace and harmony", according to Dolores Jane Umbridge, Assistant Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, whose soul-grating voice was currently flowing out like sticky cough syrup from every Wizarding Wireless in the country.

When he'd first discovered the scummy brown paper package with "Proposed Laws" scribbled untidily on the front on his doorstep a few months ago, with no signature or note attached, he'd assumed it was some sort of bad taste joke. A badly thought out nod to the Muggles' Second World War. It had feverishly described supposed new laws which would prevent him from buying certain things, visiting certain areas, being out at certain hours of the night, working certain jobs  the list went on. Obscure rules against "making unwanted sexual advances which may result in emotional distress" and "liaisons with any persons with the potential to facilitate and/or intentionally solicit an act of werewolf instinct" were written in bold and were "punishable offences", and "any werewolf acting on baser instincts unsuitable within a community context" was up for something the prankster called 'termination'.

He'd sighed softly to himself, marveling at the ability of people to invest so much time into something they claimed to hate, and had thrown the little package into the bin with little more than a lingering gaze.

Two weeks later, the Deputy Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had turned up at his door, and it had all gone downhill from there.

From what Remus could decipher from the man's garbled explanation about Werewolf Capture Units and "the Registry", the Ministry was taking it upon itself to issue an enormous number of new rules and regulations, coldly brilliant pieces of legislation capable of backing up any instance of discrimination against any werewolf anytime, anywhere.

"So " Remus had interrupted, "I'm essentially fucked. Is that it?"

The man hadn't even cracked a smile.

At first it had seemed like in practice it would have relatively little impact on Remus's day-to-day life. He didn't go to swimming pools, strip clubs, delis or botanic gardens anyway and had no interest whatsoever in becoming an Auror or a Healer. Apart from informing the Ministry of his daily activities and curtailing a number of his usual haunts, nothing, it appeared, would essentially change about the way that he lived his life.

That is, until he was informed of The Sticker.

"All werewolves are required to display the new and improved Werewolf Identification Label (colloq. "yellow sticker") prominently and at all times, including but not limited to in all/any public areas or forums, during all/any instances of interaction with members of the human race and any situations where there is a potential of interaction. Any obscuring/avoiding the use of the identification label, whether intentional or otherwise, is forbidden and will be subjected to immediate disciplinary action."

The one instance where wizards had whole-heartedly adopted an entirely Muggle phenomenon.

Remus sighed, flicking his sticker over in his hands. Today was its official introduction and Remus was feeling decidedly glum. He'd planned to go out and get a few things from Cheep Atyre & Ornimints  he needed another jersey for the winter, and a new teapot wouldn't go amiss either  but judging from the frenzy that was occurring on the wireless, his brand new accessory wasn't likely to get him a warm reception if he ventured out of the house.

He sighed and flicked his wireless back on again.

'I quite agree. Because it's not even as if they can even control themselves so why should they be allowed near our children and'

Remus flicked to another channel irritatedly.

'supposed to know if we pass one in the street and it isn't wearing its sticker? I mean, shouldn't there be something more permanent? Because after having'

'might as well ship them off to their own bloody island'

'so come on guys, get out there and show those Werefools what you're made of! Best photo goes into the draw to win a new edition Nimbus fifty'

'"Oh, how could I have known he was the devil in disguise? Hair on his back and yellow in his eyes?"'

Remus switched it off, barely resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall.

He stood up, shaking himself slightly. That's it. He'd be damned if he was going to let the Ministry shame him into staying at home and eventually achieve what was slowly revealing itself to be their ultimate goal  to phase werewolves out of the community altogether. He made his way to the door, attaching the sticker to the front of his jersey. He stopped in front of the mirror, allowing himself just the slightest moment to evaluate the man staring back at him.

"Not awful," he murmured encouragingly to his reflection, who looked dubiously back. It didn't really matter what he looked like anymore, he supposed. The combination of the Werewolf Act and the smoothing out of previous loopholes in the Sanctity of Magical Marriage (which now banned resolutely all and any homosexual activities involving magical people and/or creatures) meant that Remus's love life had gone from potentially existent to well and truly fantastical. He supposed he was lucky  at least he didn't have to wear a sticker for being gay, too.

He slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him. He tried to keep his head high, aware that he was being stared at from all corners  he supposed it was a revelation to a lot of them. He wondered if he'd see any one else who'd been recently bestickered too; they'd probably end up being friends before long, although he had the niggling feeling that would probably break one of the rules.

As he passed people in the street, he took care not to bump into them or look at them in a way that might be deemed "offensive" or "predatory", both of which were forbidden. He was still yet to receive a reply on his query as to whether he was permitted to defend himself if someone picked a fight with him  he guessed that was a resolute "no".

Slipping into the cramped shop, he sighed softly as the warmth of the conjured fire engulfed him, evaporating the moisture caught in his hair. A few people looked up at his entry, all staring at his werewolf sticker with varying looks of shock, unease and disgust. He supposed it was too much to hope they hadn't been listening to the wireless. The door swung shut behind him, the sign written in an awkward hand swinging back and forth with a wheeze.

"Sorry," he murmured. People scowled and continued on with their business, looking up to glare at him distrustfully as often as they could. He thought it was a bit rich, given he'd been here many a time before and the usual rough and tumble clientele of the shop weren't exactly outstanding citizens themselves, but he guessed in anyone's eyes he didn't have a leg to stand on anymore.

He strolled over to the empty "Nuting Undur A Gallyon!" rack when, to his utter amazement, he caught sight of a strangely familiar head of curly hair moving somewhat haphazardly around.

He blinked. It couldn't be. "Gilderoy?"

Lockhart started and spun on his heel, his eyes latching onto Remus's face with a hint of hesitation. "Remus!" he said. "What a  surprise!"

It had been five or so years since they'd seen each other last; when the bookshop was still standing, it must have been. They'd closed the shop early  Remus muttering a badly executed excuse that Lockhart had gobbled up like a hungry child, convinced it meant sex was in the offering  and they'd made their way to a local cafe, where Lockhart had proceeded to flirt himself silly until Remus got too embarrassed and left with the colour still in his cheeks. He'd sent a letter to the Order, briefly mentioning what had occurred in the shop but feigning ignorance as to the identity of the men, still convinced it was some sort of joke or misunderstanding on Snape's behalf. He'd had a long luxurious wank, images of a dark head bobbing leisurely between his legs, and had fallen asleep.

The next day the entire building was a collection of rubble and ash. Remus could still remember the feeling that crushed at his heart as he stared around at the charred pages and melted covers. He'd stood amidst the debris for a long time, expecting Lockhart or even Snape to come strolling up beside him at any minute, but they didn't. He'd gone home alone, been through the extensive Order investigation alone, and had been alone ever since.

He was still hopelessly and hatefully undecided on Snape's loyalties when, two years later, the morning newspapers were bellowing themselves hoarse with details of Snape's new position at Hogwarts. "ADOLESCENT DEATH EATER A NEW ROLE MODEL!" they shrieked gleefully, and Remus had stood staring at the blurry picture of Snape and Dumbledore, grimly standing side by side, for almost an hour.

He hadn't known what to think. Dumbledore wasn't an idiot; he wouldn't hire someone unless he could trust them with his life. But Remus had seen Snape's Dark Mark with his own two eyes...

Lockhart ran an unsure hand through the blonded curls on his head, flattening them with his palm and sprucing them with the tips of his fingers. "I  didn't expect to see you here." He laughed nervously. "Stumbled in by accident, you see."

Remus tore his mind from his current thoughts and followed Lockhart's gaze around the shabby room filled with second-hand bits and bobs. There were jackets and hats slung over raggedy couches, mismatched chairs surrounding broken-down tables and general clutter strewn over everything.

"It's where I'm forced to purchase the majority of my possessions nowadays," Remus said with a sigh, thinking wistfully that Nuting Under A Gallyon was his personal motto. "I'm afraid that's the main reason for my shabbiness."

Lockhart beamed a smile at Remus which was still as dazzling as ever, and slightly less irritating to the eye. "Oh, you look dashing enough to me," he said brightly. "In a sort of "

"Thank you," Remus interrupted softly. "Very kind of you to say."

"Not a problem." Lockhart's eyes trailed down Remus's body in the beginning of an appraisal and latched onto the bright sticker adorning his jacket. A few heartbeats. "Fashion choice?" he asked lightly.

Remus smiled without humour. "Not exactly."

"Huh. First day, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately."

The other man shook his head in wonder. "I never knew."

"I never told you."

"True." Lockhart shook his head. "My, this hasn't been a good decade for you, has it?"

Remus stared at him, trying to decide if he meant offense. "No."

Lockhart at least had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Sorry for being so chipper about it all," he murmured. "I know you were all very close." He took a deep breath. "As you can see " he gestured around the shop "it hasn't been all beer and skittles for me either."

"No?"

Lockhart glanced around the shop and took a step closer. "I've been writing," he said meaningfully.

"Ah."

"Of course, no one's interested in it at the moment. But that's always the way it goes  that's the game they play, isn't it?"

Remus hadn't a clue what game he was talking about but murmured his assent nonetheless. "What're you writing?" he asked, scanning the shop slightly to make sure no one suspected him of a taking part in a "liaison".

"Adventure books. Part reality, part fantasy. A mixture of gallant stories and truth, so that people can be entertained whilst learning something." His mouth spread into a confident smile. "Not a bad idea, is it?" Remus nodded, though Lockhart wasn't watching. "I've been thinking about getting an agent but I just don't have the dosh to pay for it at the moment."

A man on the other side of the room was staring at Remus with narrowed eyes. "An agent?"

"For my writing." Lockhart stared at him. "Are you listening to me, Remus?"

Remus's lips spread into a thin smile. "Sorry." His eyes ran over Lockhart's body, unable to stop himself from appreciating his smooth lines, fine features and strong figure. "You're looking well," he added, only belatedly realising the blatant non sequitur.

"And why shouldn't I be?" Lockhart laughed, in a slightly fake way that Remus noted as being definitely new.

Remus smiled wryly. "True enough. Myself, on the other hand..."

Lockhart's eyes suddenly lost a little of their sparkle and his smile slackened. "Are you involved with anyone, Remus?"

Remus blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Sorry?" Lockhart wasn't known for his subtlety, exactly, but this was a tad direct even for him. "Er, no."

Lockhart bit his lip. "Does that mean that I should be more or less alarmed that a large burly man is headed our way?"

Remus turned around to see a heavy set man with mean eyes coming toward them with an intense look of distrust. He had a large badge with W.C.U emblazoned in gold along the banner. "'Scuse me," he rumbled to Lockhart in a deep voice as he approached, "but is this werewolf bothering you?"

Lockhart looked baffled only for a minute before he smiled cheerfully. "Not at all," he insisted brightly. He patted Remus on the back. "He and I are old friends."

The man grunted dubiously. "I can make him leave. No problem."

"Oh, no, we're just chatting." Lockhart winked at the man. "No problems here."

The man grunted again and strode off, seeming to dissolve into the air as he went.

Remus sighed shakily and turned to Lockhart. "Thank you," he murmured. "I guess that's what they meant about constant observation."

Lockhart looked at him pityingly. "Pervy tossers, the lot of them," he muttered, and Remus couldn't help but smile.

"Yes."

Lockhart gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Look, you, ah, want to get a coffee or something?" He smiled hopefully.

Remus stared at him. "A coffee?"

Lockhart leaned in. "I'm asking you out," he whispered pointedly. "I haven't seen you for nearly five years! Let's go out. Catch up. Have a drink." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Have some fun."

Remus looked anxiously around the shop, before leaning in. "Look, Gilderoy, I'm " Emotionally stunted. Below the poverty line. Legally a Dark Creature. Constantly observed. Unemployed. Dangerous. On the verge of a mental breakdown. Not who I used to be. "no fun."

Lockhart threw his head back and laughed. "Don't worry, old chap. Let me do all the work," he paused just long to ensure Remus understood the innuendo, "and you can just come along for the ride."


*****


"You want to look in another bookshop? How's it going to be any different from the last one we went to?"

Several bystanders exchanged disgusted glances and Remus winced. He made every effort he could as the afternoon progressed to be as inconspicuous as possible, especially when they'd been in a small and quite intimate cafe, but going anywhere like Lockhart was like  well, like wearing a big yellow sticker.

"Look," he sighed, "why don't you wait for me in that cafe on the other side of the road?" Their earlier conversation in which he'd attempted to explain how certain bookshops were better than others  and in fact the merit of bookshops at all  had been entirely lost on the other man. "Get yourself a coffee or something; I'll only be a minute."

Lockhart blinked. "You want me to sit there by myself?"

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"People might think I'm there by myself."

Something about Lockhart's expression told Remus he wasn't joking. "Does that matter?"

"Well, yes, a little."

Suddenly Remus was too tired to argue. "Just  I'll only be a minute, alright?"

Grumbling acquiescence, Lockhart veered reluctantly off to the humble cafe on the corner and Remus slipped into the little bookshop opposite. Entering into the shop, Remus was glad to see it looked more or less empty. It must have a reasonable selection, he thought wryly to himself, pleased to have the chance to peruse in peace. He took a deep breath, reveling in the mixed scene of fresh and musty pages, the quiet calm that always pervaded shops like this one. He knew he'd have probably have to save up his money in a piggy bank for ten years to afford anything in here  the only books he could hope to purchase these days were from secondhand stores, books with pages so gummy they were nearly impossible to separate  but the atmosphere was more than enough to put him in a good mood.

He didn't know what it was  he just liked books. He liked reading books and buying them, leafing through their pages and feeling the soft breeze of others' adventures tickle at his cheeks. There was something about the atmosphere of a bookshop that was like a drug, sending a pervading feeling of calm through his body whilst simultaneously increasing his heart rate.

He remembered the day he'd discovered "adult" books; not, as he'd always supposed, books written with the sole intention of boring anyone who didn't wear elbow patches to tears, but books that explained (sometimes in glorious detail) things that he only ever thought about in the little hours of the morning as his hands slipped beneath his waistband.

That wasn't what he was here for, though. Those sorts of things could be found in any crummy porn store. Making his way down the Magical Theory aisle, a subject he'd recently become quite immersed in, he was surprised to find someone already lurking down the end. No matter  he'd simply start down this end.

Having compiled the briefest shortlist he could of the left side  thirty-seven titles and counting  he turned to peruse the right side and came face to face with the exact same situation that had been staining the inside of his eyelids for the last six years.

Severus Snape in a bookstore.

You! he just barely managed to stop himself from saying stupidly. "Er."

Snape's eyes narrowed somewhat, but he said nothing, his eyes locked upon Remus's chest.

"You " He changed his mind. "It's been a while."

Snape's eyes felt like they were burning holes in his chest as he stared fixedly at the sticker.

"Natty, isn't it?" Remus tried, but got nothing in response. He laced his fingers behind his back, trying to sort out which of the furious thoughts circling around the top of his brain were his own and which were  and which were Sirius's. "I suppose you think this," he didn't need to gesture to the sticker, "is all divine justice."

Snape's eyes flicked back up to Remus's face and something unidentifiable shivered down Remus's spine. It was hot and cold and dry and slick, all at the same time. He shifted slightly, trying to maintain his brazenfaced nonchalance and ignore this sickening new sensation. There was something about Snape's eyes that was eerily inhuman, although he supposed he was in no position to cast those sorts of stones.

"Not at all," Snape murmured, and something that Remus would have called pity had he seen it anywhere else appeared to filter onto his face. "I suppose it makes everything rather difficult," he said blankly.

It wasn't like Snape to sympathise but there was nothing about his tone or demeanor that suggested he was trying to offend him. "Yes," Remus agreed, as blandly as he could.

"I suppose," Snape said, appearing almost to be careful, "everything was rather difficult to begin with."

Something in Remus's throat caught in surprise. "Y-yes." He coughed slightly. "I suppose it was."

"For all of us," Snape added, his expression unreadable.

Remus nodded. There was a slight pause during which Snape's eyes never left Remus's face.

"Are you currently employed?"

Remus sighed. "Unfortunately not. I think that's to be my lot in life." He smiled thinly. "You are though, I hear."

Snape stiffened, ever so slightly. "Yes."

"Well?" Remus sensed his tension. "How's Hogwarts on the other side?"

Snape shifted his feet. "I spent all my years of education complaining about the amount of homework we received and never once took into account that the teacher had that amount ten or even thirtyfold."

"The benefits of being young," Remus murmured, and the two shared an almost-smile.

Another moment passed, this one slightly more awkward.

"Perhaps..." Snape broke off, appearing to be contemplating something. His eyes narrowed again as he scanned Remus up and down and Remus felt oddly self-conscious under his gaze, tempted to cross himself like a young girl. "If I had someone competent to help with essay-marking it would aid me greatly."

Remus nodded. "Undoubtedly." He almost smirked. "Trouble is getting the essays out of the school, isn't it? I remember once when Sirius tried " he broke off quickly, suddenly realising neither one of them wished to recall anything at all about Sirius Black.

"They are charmed, yes," Snape said slowly, his eyes flashing ever so slightly at the mention of Sirius. "I would have to get someone to help inside the building."

"Another teacher, you mean?" Remus wasn't quite sure why Snape was persisting with this conversation.

"I was thinking more of someone outside of the school's employ. Someone not currently employed themselves. Someone with endless amounts of time." Snape looked at him pointedly. "Someone like you, Lupin."

"Me?" Remus almost dropped the books in his arms.

"I'll admit the thought has only just occurred to me but I cannot see any reason why that should make it any less viable."

"You want me to come and mark Potions essays for you?"

"My students only deal with the most rudimentary potions of potions, Lupin. Basic OWL level curriculum and the essays are no different."

"Isn't that cheating?"

Snape pursed his lips, something akin to amusement in his eyes. "Innovative teaching methods are quite 'in" at the present time, Lupin."

Remus shook his head. "So I would  what, come in and help you with marking and you would "

"Pay you, yes. Does twenty seem reasonable?"

Remus wondered if perhaps he was dreaming. "Severus, thank you, but I couldn't possibly accept "

"What are you talking about?" Snape interrupted impatiently. "You're in no state to be turning down employment, no matter who's offering it." He ran a critical eye down Remus's clothes again.

Remus blushed, but clenched his fist resolutely. "I won't do it for any more than ten."

"Are you attempting to haggle me down?"

Taking a deep breath, Remus looked at him levelly. "I have no problem with employment or help from friends, but I will not accept charity or pity."

Snape raised an eyebrow, staring at him a long moment. "Suit yourself, Lupin. Does seven suit?"

"Galleons?"

"O'clock."

"Wait  tonight?"

"Obviously."

"Oh. Well..."

"Busy?"

"No, I..." Remus trailed off. "I just wasn't expecting it to be so soon."

"Well, I do try to hand them back the next day."

Remus cleared his throat. "Oh. Well  yes, I suppose that's fine."

"Good. Main hall?"

"I  yes, that will be fine."

"Excellent."

And once again Remus watched as Snape disappeared out the door of a bookshop, his long black robes flickering in a way he never saw anywhere else.

"Who was that?" Lockhart's voice came from behind him.

"I " Remus could barely believe what had just happened. "I don't know."

Lockhart huffed. "Thought it was Severus Snape for a moment there! Must have invented it, to stop myself from getting so bored while I was at the coffee shop waiting for you."

"Must have," muttered Remus, distractedly. An elderly couple was glaring at him from outside the window, and suddenly he felt exhausted. "Look, Gilderoy, it's been lovely to see you again but I think I've had more disapproval than a man can take in one day."

"Oh, no, I absolutely understand!" said Lockhart, clutching at his arm. "Can I walk you to a floo?"

Remus smiled wistfully. "I'm afraid the floo is a 'restricted area' for me at the present time. Lucky that my current lodgings are within walking distance, I suppose."

The look on Lockhart's face changed rapidly from outrage to excitement. "Care to be escorted home, then?"

Remus was just about to politely decline when an image appeared in his head of a crowd of angry villager gathered around his little building, all carrying pitchforks and flaming torches, snarling and barking about 'safety' and 'community wellbeing'.

"You know what? That would be lovely, thank you."

As Lockhart grinned and winked, Remus tried hard not to think of Sirius, stepping out onto the street into the cool air. It wasn't fair for him to associate any of his feelings of betrayal and grief  of guilt and James and Lily and Peter and, God, Harry who he hadn't seen for years  with the younger man; he wasn't really all that much like Sirius, anyhow. They had different hair. Different  shoes.

Lockhart chattered away as they wandered down the street, as if they'd never been apart, as if they weren't being glared at by every second person they passed, as if Remus wasn't a werewolf and Lockhart wasn't a homosexual, as if there wind weren't bitterly cold, as if Remus's thoughts were entirely focused on him. Although he'd never been a huge fan of mindless babbling, Remus found Lockhart's in this particular instance and at this particular moment strangely soothing.

"Er, this is it," Remus interrupted softly, and the two came to a halt outside the old abandoned factory building at the end of the road that Remus had come to call home. He tried to look at it from someone else's point of view; old and dilapidated, it was as run down as a building could probably get without collapsing altogether. The half finished apartments (a magical renovation gone horribly wrong) were occupied by various and sundry, most of whom Remus had never seen and were only putting up with the terrible facilities because they were free. Every now and again a brand new Ministry worker, puffed up with their own self-importance, would barge in with warrants and attempts to break down some of the mangled spells to get the walls clean and the light working properly, but within the next few days everything always went back to the way it was. He could tell some of the workers were starting to think the building was cursed; Remus was almost coming to suspect it himself, although he wasn't sure quite so much effort would have gone into just making a building unpleasant.

"Oh, Remus," Lockhart said, despairingly. "I had no idea it had come to this."

Remus knew if he hadn't managed to snaffle this up he'd probably be a lot worse off, but he nodded anyway. "I don't suppose you want to come in, then," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

"Oh, no, I'll come in!"

Which wasn't quite what Remus had meant, but Lockhart was already looking at him expectantly, so he sighed and lead the way through the barely-hinged door, up the bug-infested stairs and into his little set of rooms, first on the left at the top of the stairs.

"Well," Lockhart said, sounding somewhat underwhelmed as he looked around at the scummy walls, mismatched furniture and blackened windows. "It's cosy."

"Very." Remus cleared his throat. "Can I offer you a cup of tea? It's just packet stuff, I'm afraid. They haven't decided if we're permitted to use tea leaves at this stage." He shrugged. "I guess they're worried we might try and read the future."

"Actually, I'd rather a little of something else, if you're amenable," Lockhart said, turning and looking at Remus expectantly.

"Of...something else?"

"You may think me somewhat unrefined," said Lockhart, slowly closing in on Remus, "but I can do some pretty interesting things with my tongue."

Remus spluttered, taking a step backwards. "I "

"Oh, come on, Remus, don't tell me you're not interested." Lockhart grinned in an alarmingly predatory way. "You'd have to be straight not to be interested in me," he added, backing Remus up against the wall.

Merlin. "Look, Gilderoy, we haven't seen each other for "

"So why waste the time?" Lockhart pushed himself hard up against Remus. "I know you want me, too."

"I  I  I have to see Snape."

Lockhart blinked, stepping back slightly. "What?"

The best lies are rooted in truth. "He  he's expecting me. Now. I'm going to be doing some work for him."

Lockhart screwed up his face in a way that was most unbecoming. "What sort of work?"

"Essay marking."

His face fell. "Oh." He took another step back. "Well." He let his eyes linger on the slightly interested bulge in Remus's trousers. "Another time, then."

Remus nodded. "Perhaps," he said breathlessly. Lockhart stared at him with a bemused expression before shaking his head and making his way out the door.

"Cheerio, then!" he called out behind him as he left, his lilac-hemmed robes flicking out flitting out behind him.

Remus took a deep breath. "Cheerio," he murmured.


*****

Remus's hand was suspended in the air, a couple of inches from the door to the Potion Master's private rooms. It was one thing to turn up a few minutes early  "Floo traffic, you never know how quick it's going to be!"  but an hour was pushing it. He wondered if perhaps he ought to leave and come back, but the thought of wading through the crowds of adolescents on their way to dinner made him reluctant. He shouldn't have left his place so early; it was just so cold and dark and depressing, and gloomy thoughts that always resurfaced around October had started to settle over him like a layer of grime, and the thought of a warm castle full of food and laughter and carefree days had been altogether too tempting.

Not to mention Snape. Just the thought of seeing the other man  his flashing eyes, his melting voice, his swirling robes  was enough to set his heart beating faster. Even if this entire situation was completely insane.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal the very object of his thoughts. "You're not due to be here for at least another hour."

Remus swallowed. "I apologise for being early "

"Being this early is not just eager, it's impolite."

"I realise." Remus took a deep breath. "I was ... well, I was bored."

"So you thought you'd impinge on my privacy?"

"More or less."

Snape glared at him a moment before opening the door slightly. Remus inclined his head and stepped inside, and as he looked around the Spartan rooms, tastefully decorated with a mixture of greens and whites, he was suddenly engulfed with an overwhelming feeling of calm, warmth and something akin to being a little tipsy. "Is there something in the air in here?"

"A mild relaxant potion in the form of air freshener," said Snape, closing the door behind Remus. "My own invention."

"Ah." As each second past, more and more of Remus's muscles seemed to unravel and untwist. "Pleasant."

"Yes." Snape smirked a little to himself, making his way across the room. "I'll admit to being a little overzealous with it of late." He gestured to a small desk set up in the corner of the room, a pile of papers and a number of feather quills set up neatly upon it. "Will that suffice?"

Remus admired the smooth lines and light feathers of the new quills. "Most assuredly."

"I've taken the liberty of compiling a few notes on what you're to award marks for, but at this level if the information is correct and their sentences are readable, it's acceptable." Snape made his way to a door on the other side of the room that Remus assumed must be a bedroom or something similar. "If you require my assistance with anything, a knock on my door will suffice."

"Thank you."

And with that, Remus settled down at the desk and began to work.


*****


Several hours later, Snape emerged from his room. "I'm pleased to see you're still here."

Remus picked up his head out of his hands. "Your students don't share a single brain cell between them," he said, despairingly. "I don't know if I can cope with reading another essay for the rest of my life." He didn't mention it, but he was also feeling decidedly woozy and flushed from Snape's 'air freshener'.

"Would you care for a glass of wine?"

Remus blinked. "With you?"

"Is that so distasteful an idea?"

"Not at all," Remus murmured, standing up from his chair. "In fact, that sounds just perfect. Thank you."

Snape gestured to the couch in front of the small coffee table in the middle of the room. "I have a bottle of Château Margaux, will that do?"

Making his way to the couch, Remus noted it was barely big enough for two. "I confess to not usually being able to tell the difference between most wines," he admitted, sinking down on the right side. He wondered if Snape was going to sit next to him.

Snape paused. "Perhaps a simple sauvignon, then."

"Sounds lovely."

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the calm. He listened to Snape's footsteps as they neared the couch, the clinking of glasses as he set them down upon the coffee table, the smooth sloshing of liquid as he poured the wine, and the soft creak of the couch as he settled himself next to him.

"Cheers," said Snape, and Remus opened his eyes to take his glass. They clinked them together, exchanging a brief look of amusement, before each taking a sip.

As Snape set his wineglass down upon the little table, Remus couldn't tear his eyes away from the pale strip of flesh that was suddenly revealed to him through the top of Snape's shirt. It looked soft and sensitive and Remus was assaulted with the idea of burying his nose deep in the nape of his neck.

"Lupin." Snape's deep voice interrupted Remus's thoughts, reverberating around inside Remus's chest. He breathed deeply, bringing his gaze up the length of Snape's neck to his penetrating eyes.

"Severus," he replied, feeling decidedly intoxicated with the mixture of the wine, the relaxing potion and Snape's presence.

A calculated pause. "What is the exact nature of your relationship with Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Remus sat up slightly. "Pardon?"

Snape's eyes burned a little. "You heard me."

"I " Remus licked his lips, trying desperately to think of a way to change the topic. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh?" Snape murmured, his gaze dropping slightly to Remus's fidgeting fingers. "Would the nature of your relationship cause him to experience distress at the idea of another man putting his hand on your thigh, for instance?"

Remus snapped his gaze down to Snape's hands, only to find the question an entirely theoretical one and Snape's hands carefully entwined in one another. "Why do you ask?"

"I was entertaining the thought."

Remus swallowed.

"But I would not bother if your interests lay  elsewhere."

"I " Merlin. More than anything else, Remus wanted Snape to lean into him, wanted to be enveloped in his presence, wanted to feel Snape's warm fingers slip up the inside of his leg, making their way closer and closer to the buckle of his trousers. "We may be  somewhat involved," he admitted reluctantly.

In an instant, Snape's face shuttered and he leant slowly back, the space between them appearing to increase tenfold. "Ah." He looked away, picking up his wineglass to take another sip. Remus didn't know what he could do to alleviate the intense feeling of disappointment sinking like lead in his stomach. "May I ask," Snape murmured, tracing his middle finger gently around the rim of his wine glass, "what it is you see in him?"

Remus bit his lip. "Well," he said slowly, "he is rather good-looking."

Snape looked up from his glass with a dubious expression. "You believe so?"

"Well, yes. Nice teeth. Nice hair. Nice  bottom."

"I never noticed," Snape said impassively.

Remus sighed. "He may be a prat," he didn't feel the least bit sorry in saying, "but his body really is  something."

"I see." Snape's jaw tightened. "You're in it for the sex, then?"

Remus blushed. "Actually, we haven't " and Snape did not need to know that.

"You haven't?" Snape didn't miss a thing. "Then what in Merlin's name are you "

"Look, I just ran into him today. And well  there's nothing wrong with him, per se. And he talks to me. He looks at me. I'm not just a public enemy to him. He's good-looking and easy-going and attracted to me and doesn't give a damn what I wear or what I look like or what I am"

"You mean you've settled for someone you don't particularly like just because you don't have the ability to go out and find someone halfway decent?"

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand at his temple. "There isn't exactly a line outside my door, Severus."

There was a short pause. "Perhaps they aren't sure where it is."

He looked over at Snape, who was eyeing him with an expression as unfathomable as the man himself. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"What do you suppose I mean, Lupin?"

Remus swallowed, staring into the depths of Snape's eyes. "I "

"Meaning," Snape interrupted, his hand suddenly on Remus's knee, slowly pushing its way up his inner thigh, "there are many, many things that I wish to do to you right now. If you'll let me."

A pulse of arousal surged through Remus's body. "Severus," he said softly, unsure if he was protesting or begging. "Severus, I "

"Does he love you?"

Remus could feel his legs spreading slightly of their own volition. "W-what?" The hand brushed Remus's crotch ever so slightly and he only just managed to stop himself from whimpering aloud.

"Stop being intentionally obtuse."

Remus shook his head. "Should he?"

"Does he?" Snape countered.

"Well  unnngh." Snape's hand brushed him again. "Er, no, I don't b-believe so."

"Do you b-believe," Snape mocked, his lips curling slightly, "he'd be heartbroken were you to part company?" Remus's breath hitched in his throat as Snape leant forward, his hot breath ghosting down Remus's cheeks.

"No, I don't believe he would be." Remus tried to strengthen his resolve in the onslaught of Snape's presence. "If you're trying to talk me into this, Severus "

"I don't believe I need to," Snape said, his hand sliding up to cup Remus through his trousers.

"I " Remus broke off to groan as Snape kneaded him through his trousers. "You  God, Severus..."

Suddenly Snape's mouth was upon his, hot and wet and demanding. There were no tentative brushings of lips here, no first curious touches of tongues  Snape was dominating and needy and Remus's cock was hard as a rock by the time Snape pulled away, his lips raw and red.

"I want to fuck you, Lupin," he gasped, pushing Remus back against the couch, one hand still rubbing at Remus's cock. "I want to fuck you right now."

Remus groaned loudly, wishing he sounded less like an utterly desperate virgin. Snape didn't seem to care; in fact Remus's utter depravity seemed to excite him, his face flushed and lips smirking.

"Take off your shirt." Snape leaned back slightly, allowing him room, and Remus tugged off his tatty shirt, tossing it onto the floor without a glance. "Exquisite," Snape murmured, both his long hands coming up to trace the scars down Remus's chest. Remus was just about to protest when Snape leant down and suddenly his mouth was latching onto Remus's nipple, his hot went tongue swirling around the bud with practiced ease.

Remus moaned deep in his throat, dimly aware that he was blatantly being seduced and acting like a Knockturn Alley whore. He tried to control himself; to close his mouth, open his eyes and evaluate the situation, but then suddenly there was a hand on his cock and it was hot and slick and he had no idea how Snape undid his buttons or got his hands there so fast but Merlin...

"Yes," Snape said, "you like that, don't you, Lupin?" He murmured something inaudible and the couch stretched languidly out into a bed, a painfully difficult transfiguration Snape managed with laughable ease. He pushed Remus down and climbed atop him, and if Remus were in a more coherent state of mind he might have marveled at Snape's curious prowess. But he was too giddy with pleasure, with sensation  Snape's hands on him, his tongue so hot and slick, his deep voice muttering the filthiest things in Remus's ear as he slowly stripped. Everything was all sticky skin and wet mouths and grinding hips and, God, Remus would have thought at twenty-five he'd have more control.

Snape groaned. "Circe, what a picture you make, Lupin..."

With his trousers around his ankles, Remus didn't even want to think about it. "Have you "

"Question is," Snape's rough voice interrupted, "have you?"

"I..." If he answered, Snape probably wouldn't do what the delicious probing fingers were in the middle of promising. Remus had a theoretical knowledge at best but he knew, without a doubt, he wanted Snape inside him. "Does it matter?"

"No," Snape replied, his strong hands suddenly at Remus's hips and turning him around so he was face down in sheets that smelled like musk and cheap shampoo. Remus felt Snape shoving a pillow under his hips and he couldn't resist bucking against it a few times. "Not to me, anyway."

"Are..." Remus trailed off as hot hands spread him apart and a cool, slicked finger pressed against his entrance. For the first time since arriving he felt a jolt of apprehension. Only a few minutes ago he was sitting marking essays, a calm and respectable young man, and only a few hours ago he hadn't seen or heard from Snape in over five years; yet here he was, spread eagle on a transfigured bed, about to let him take his virginity without a moment's consideration. "I..."

"Merlin, Remus," said Snape hoarsely, "I've wanted to do this for so long..."

"Uuhhmm unnngh," Remus replied, a pulse of warmth going through his body at Snape's use of his first name. He didn't think he'd ever heard Snape use it before; it was more glorious than all the licking 'l's put together.

Then suddenly, two of Snape's fingers were probing in. Remus choked out a groan, the heady mixture of pleasure and pain more arousing than he would have thought. Within a few moments, it wasn't enough. "More."

"I ought n-not to  you are, after all "

Snape sucked in a breath as Remus bucked back onto his fingers.

"More."

Slowly, the fingers were removed and replaced with something larger and blunter.

"Merlin, yes..."


*****


Part Three

February, 1990.

Snape was still asleep when Remus stumbled into his bedroom, completely naked and giddy with excitement.

"I got bored!" he announced, shaking Snape's limp body back and forth. The other man groaned pitifully and swiped a hand at his face. "Severus, I got bored!"

"Astounding," Snape grumbled, turning his face to bury it into the pillow.

"No, Severus, you don't understand  I was bored. I was lying there in my shack and I was utterly dreading the night stretched out before me on the uncomfortable floorboards away from my bed and my teapot and you  do you know what that means? It worked, Severus, it bloody well worked." Remus threw back his head and laughed. "I'm saved! You're saved! We're all saved!"

"Lupin, what have I told you about reading the Muggle's Bible "

"The potion, Severus. The potion worked."

The bed creaked loudly as Snape sat up with a bolt. "It worked?"

Remus grinned triumphantly. "It worked." He lifted his hand up into the air, clenching his fists. "I'm free."

"As a bird, apparently," Snape murmured, his eyes slipping down Remus's naked form as he lifted himself from the bed. But for once, Remus was almost childlike in his innocence.

"As a bird," he repeated gleefully. "Don't you see? Without the wolf, we're all just humans. Without the wolf, there is no chance of anyone coming to harm within our presence. Without the wolf, there's no way the ministry can continue to torment our lives like this "

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," Snape said, but there was a warm flush to his cheeks.

"Just look at me, Severus!" Remus flung out his arms and spun around. "I didn't want to hurt myself the whole time! No scratching, no bruises, no biting, no scars  I had a good night's sleep, for Merlin's sake! I feel like my whole life has been handed to me on a silver platter."

"Not gold?"

Remus laughed, finding it almost difficult to breathe. "I just can't believe how good life is today."

"Perhaps," Snape murmured, sidling toward Remus and sliding his hands along Remus's smooth hips to rest at the curve of his back, "we could celebrate with breakfast in bed."

Remus leaned forward and placed a smacking kiss on Snape's nose. "Breakfast in bed? No  let's go out. Blueberry pancakes, sausages, tomatoes, bacon, toast, coffee, orange juice, cereal " He broke off to rub his hands together in glee. "And sex on the table right in front of all those bastard's faces!"

"Lupin, you've gone mad."

But Remus refused to let Snape deter him, and within a matter of minutes he'd forced him into the first clean pair of trousers and the closest shirt he could find and was pushing him out the door.

"Lupin!" Snape hissed, spelling his buttons quickly shut and slipping into his shoes.

The use of the sticker had gone out the previous year but many still recognised him and continued to give him filthy looks as he walked down the road. Remus couldn't have cared less at that moment  he hummed pleasantly as he almost skipped along the street. Snape glanced sideways at him. "I'm almost embarrassed to be seen with you." He smirked a little to himself. "This never would have happened if you'd chosen Lockhart instead of me."

Remus felt another frisson of happiness rush through him and daringly let his hand brush at Snape's as they walked.

"Persist with that cavalier attitude, Lupin, and you're going to get us both thrown in jail."

Remus grinned easily, feeling happier than he had in decades. "At least there we could have sex in peace."

End.