For all Joy wants Eternity

For all Joy wants Eternity
Chapter 14

He knew the feeling all too well, had grown used to it over
the years. The decades. He knew each and every facet of the
numbness which had once again settled into his entire body some
time during the past hours, and which now made him feel like
a massive piece of useless flesh. He was so excruciatingly
familiar with the dull, aching pain that had taken his limbs
captive and that crept up and down through the stiff muscles that
ran across his back. He had already spent countless hours
trying to describe, to define the strange sensation inside his
throat that felt as if it had been maltreated with some kind
of rasp, a very rough one, but at the same time, it could have
been the rasp itself; somehow being ripped open, but also
tearing every breath he took tredsreds as well, leaving him
not enough air, not at all, making his lungs scream for more
oxygen and moisture each time that he tried to inhale. As
always, there was *something* weighing heavily on his still
closed eye-lids, insistently keeping them shut, something that
denied him a full return to humanity, that did not seem to
want to grant him the soothing sight of the light that was now
shimmering through his rooms, that he could feel dancing and
swirling around him. As it always did, afterwards. A light not
pale and treacherously soft as the moonlight was, but bright
and crystalline, promising in its cutting clarity. Singing
to him about the end of another full-moon night. About the
beginning of another time during which he would almost belong
to the human world again. Almost...

Successfully struggling through the familiar monthly fight one
more time, Remus forced his eyes open. He needed to see the
light. As always, it was this one desperate urge that made him
finally break through the lethargy and exhaustion of his
re-transformation. It was this first glance at the brightness of
the morning after that he needed more than anything else, this
one glimpse of the day that would assure him that, again, he
had really made it back.

He wasn\'t surprised at all to realize he was the only one in
the room. He knew he\'d be alone when he\'d return to his human
form, though he also clearly remembered that he had not spent
the entire night all by himself. With a small, bitter smile,
Remus realized once again the double-edged gift the Wolfsbane
Potion granted him, allowing him to lead his life as a werewolf
as normally as he possibly could. Bliss and torture, not
able to keep him from transforming into the animal, but
preserving enough of his human intellect to allow him to
recall. Visions. Sounds. Sensations. Emotions.

And sometimes it seemed to him as if his animal memories
about what he *felt* while under the influence of the moon
were much more accentuated than his human ones. More intense,
more powerful. More *present*. More difficult to suppress.

This was one of those times.

He recalled the small moment of alarmed disorientation when
the wolf had been waked in the middle of the night by a small,
unexpected movement, by some touch - or rather the lack of it.
With one quick, startled jump, the animal had gotten to its
feet, just in time to somehow make the tall, dark shadow that
had already been on its way to the door stop dead in its
tracks. Remus remembered how helpless the wolf that he was had
felt. Remembered the short, but violent jolt of hope that
had been whipping through his consciousness when the shadow
had suddenly turned around to face him, the pale,
treacherously soft moonlight modelling its clear-cut face,
just as white and distant as the silver disc that would always
determine his fate. And then the shadow had been speaking,
words, only a few of them, saying something Remus could not
remember, but he knew he\'d made some sound of his own in the
silence that had accompanied the shadow\'s final turn and its
few steps towards the door.

It had left without hesitating a second time.

He was aware that the wolf that he was had sat down and watched
the dark, wooden surface for quite some time after it had been
closed again. After he had been left alone again. Not knowing
for how long, he had hoped and waited for the shadow to return,
Remus remembered the profound sadness that grew inside him all
the better, the painful lack of understanding. And the deep
sigh with which the animal had finally lain down again,
resting its head between its two front paws. Preparing to face
the rest of another full moon night. And another morning after.
Alone.

Still captured in the confusing, disturbing memories of the
night, Remus pushed himself into a half-sitting position with
some difficulty and closed his aching eyes again for a second.
The raw, torn feeling inside his throat had begun to gradually
ease off, and so would the pain and weariness paralysing his
body if he gave it some time. It always did. Automatically, he
started to search his surroundings for his robes, only to find
them ripped to shreds that spread across the floor in front of the
fireplace, another reminder of the precipitous transformation
of the evening before and of how its events, as well as those
of the subsequent night, had made things even more painful than
they already always were. Of how they had left him even weaker,
feeling the strain even more than he usually did.

Still, somewhere among all the sadness and pain of this night,
there had also been a hand. A shivering hand, touching
the wolf that he was, the first in a long time, this hand he had felt
buried in the fur of his neck when he had eventually fallen
asleep. And he was not quite sure anymore whether he had only
imagined it or if those fingers had actually, truly been moving
slightly, almost imperceptibly, in a shy, insecure caress that had
been the last thing that he had realized before his consciousness
had finally drifted away for good...

With a totally unconscious movement, Remus\'s right hand came
up to the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to rub away the
slowly awakening headache which always accompanied him during
the first hours after the wolf. Harableable to suppress another
sigh, the Gryffindor ignored the protesting ache shooting
through every single muscle of his legs and back when he slowly,
carefully lifted his naked body from the floor. Holding on to
the backs of chairs and sofas, the table top, to shelves and
cupboards for support on the unbelievingly long way to his
bedroom, he could feel the hammering pain between his eyes
growing stronger with each swaying step of his weak,
shivering legs.

The questions echoing inside his skull, the need for answers
that was screaming in his mind would have to wait. Now, it
was time to look after himself.

There would be enough time to take care of Severus Snape later.


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This, exactly, was the moment that he had been dreading all
day, even though, or maybe because, he had known that he
would by no means be able to avoid it. The past months of
growing closeness between him and the werewolf had let him get
to know the Gryffindor well enough. Very aware that Remus would
not let him get away with what had happened the previous evening
and night, Severus had been unconsciously waiting for the familiar
knock at his door ever since he had retired to his rooms after
dinner. But now that he faced the empty space on the corridor
through the open entrance to his quarters, only *feeling* the
presence of the man under the Invisibility Cloak in front of
him, not being ready at all for the conversation that was ahead,
the gnawing disquiet he felt since leaving Remus\'s rooms very,
very early this morning reached a more than alarming level.

And so, before he finally started to retreat into his rooms,
before he did the first step of their very own little dance of
entering each other\'s quarters in such a way as to keep as much
space between them as possible, Severus hesitated. Not very
long. Not long at all. Only a very short moment. A split second,
that had already been enough, though.

The Dark Lord\'s ritual had sharpened his perception of other
persons\' closeness enough to let him sense clearly how the
invisible Gryffindor in front of his door retreated a little
bit, back towards the torch that was burning at the opposite
wall. Away from the rejection he momentarily must have
represented. Away from him.

Severus felt his chest contracting. Hit by the realization
that, once again, he had managed to violate the feelings of
the other man who had come to mean more to him than he had
ever been able to imagine, the Slytherin let a burning mixture
of desperate resignation wash over him. His life had not
exactly been one that had taught him to care about the impact
of his actions on other people\'s emotions, not to mention how
to deal properly with what he had caused afterwards. From his
schooldays until his adult life, it had not been talking and
apologizing that got him through critical situations, but
quick and effective action that left no room for wasting
any thoughts on others.

But now, there was this growing relationship with Remus. Now
there was someone he actually *did* care about, and the fact
that he obviously still was not able to keep himself from hurting
the werewolf over and over again was something extremely
painful to accept. Something that frightened and enraged him.
Somet tha that was still asking too much.

And while Severus, mentally clenching his fists, furiously
searched his suddenly totally numb mind for the right words,
for *any* words that might ease the refusal that had lain in his
spontaneous reaction to the Gryffindor\'s presence at his door,
a hand emerged in midair. Right in front oim. im. Holding a mug
the spy knew only too well.

\"You could have spared yourself this rather awkward situation,
Severus. All it would have taken was thinking of grabbing this
before you left last night.\"

Remus\'s voice didn\'t hold any anger, pain or reproach. Its
sound was light and totally natural, almost cheerful, and left the
Slytherin completely speechless. At a total loss for words, he only
watched how the hand moved downwards to the low rustling of
the Cloak\'s fabric, how the mug was carefully set on the floor
finally, how the Gryffindor\'s hand slowly disappeared into nowhere
again. Just before Remus continued speaking, in the same carefree
tones as before.

\"Oh, and before you start to worry: coming down here was no
effort at all. I felt the urge to somewhat stretch my legs anyway.
I\'m rather limited as far as my room to move is concerned, as you
know, so I will continue my le wae walk now, if you don\'t mind. Have
a nice evening, Severus.\"

Sensing how the other man\'s presence vanished more and more
with each moment, the Slytherin knelt down slowly and picked up
the empty mug, began to twist it in his hands, felt the cool, smooth
and evenly worked material beneath his fingers. On one single, very
deliberate breath, he closed his eyes, surrendered to the dizziness
his wildly reeling mind had hurled him into, and finally accepted that
there was only one thing to do. Opening his eyes again, exhaling
very slowly and still kneeling on the floor, he heard his own voice that,
low as it was, cut through this empty and silent part of the dungeons
like a dagger.

\"I would appreciate it very much should you decide to delay
your walk a bit and perhaps join me for a few minutes, Remus.
Please.\"

For a short moment, Severus fought the gnawing doubt and
helpless frustration that groped for him when he got up from the
floor, mug still in his hands, feeling even more emotionally exhausted
than he already had at any time during the day. The spy had no idea
how much time had passed since the werewolf had left. He didn\'t
know whether the Gryffindor had still been able to hear at at all,
much less whether Remus was thinking about complying with his
request. He left the door open anyway when he returned into his
rooms.

Severus had just let himself drop into the armchair in front of the
fireplace, when he heard the door at his back gently being closed.


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It wasn\'t easy. Frankly, it was one of the most difficult things he had
done in his life, and he had done a lot of dangerous, terrible, and
seemingly impossible things. Still, there wasn\'t much he had had as
much trouble with as the two hours that he and Remus spent in the
same room that very evening. It was not because the werewolf made
it harder for him, quite the contrary; the calmness and patience the
Gryffindor had literally radiated had been the only reason why, in the
end, he had been able to deal with the entire situation at all. But in the
beginning, there had only been rotating chaos, in his head and in his
heart, and even if the right words had been coming to him then, which
they hadn\'t, he wouldn\'t have known where to start in the swirling haze
which were his thoughts and feelings.

He wasn\'t used to the clarity with which he remembered not only
the fear and panic from the evening before, those powerful,
overwhelming emotions that had accompanied him on his way to
Remus\'s rooms, the liquid terror that had spread along his veins
and pulsed through his body, that he had heard pounding in his
ears and felt burning behind his eyes. Trying to ignore and repress
his feelings as typically as he usually did, and even more so since the
Dark Lord\'s ritual had been completed, the intensity with which the
emotions of the past evening and night still had a grip on him was
something he was not at all sure how to deal with.

So he didn\'t know which of them, the Gryffindor or he himself, had
been more surprised when, eventually, he started to talk. Standing by
the fire, turned half away from Rewho who silently sat in his usual chair,
concentrating on the licking flames and his own burning memories, he
had begun to speak. Slowly and hesitantly at first, trying to feel his
way through this totally unfamiliar area he had entered here, gradually
his voice had become more secure, his sentences more fluent, until the
words had fallen from Severus Snape\'s mouth almost naturally.

For the first time ever he dared to voice the terror of the wolf that had
lurked at the back of his mind ever since his school days. Had found
the courage to admit that he had never been able to focus this horror on
the animal only, that it had always spread to the person Remus Lupin as
well - until some months ago, when the ritual and the werewolf\'s honest
compassion had changed everything. Not at a moment’s notice. But
quickly and lastingly enough to dare him to make a difference. To make
him able to tell the man that he had learned to value the way that he
did from the beast that he still feared like only one other being in this
world.

Severus forced himself to not look at the werewolf in his chair, to not
check on Remus\'s reaction to his confession that he would not have been
able to overcome this panic last evening, that he had more or less already
been on his way back to his own rooms when the werewolf\'s sudden
appearance had made him think again. Had made him force himself to
defeat his fear and stick to the decision that he had made earlier that day:
to join Remus Lupin through this full moon night as a way of giving
something back for all he had already received from the Gryffindor.

He didn\'t know whether Remus understood what he told him next
about the reason for his refusal to witness the werewolf\'s
transformation. He wasn\'t sure whether the Gryffindor could realize
what he had thought watching the man becoming the animal would
have changed. How very afraid he had been to lose his ability to
distinguish between person and beast again, to lose the friend he had
found once more. He had been sure that actually*seeing* the thin line
between the Gryffindor\'s wolfish and human aspect would have
thrown him back into the wild, irrational horror of *all* the Gryffindor
was. He had been sure it would have destroyed everything.

And once again, he had been wrong.

Because as unbelievable as it might seem, in his attempt to give
something back to the werewolf he had been receiving another
gift from Remus when he least expected it. In the desperate urge
to clad his emotions in words, Severus had let himself drown in
last night\'s memories once again. In the glorious feeling of the
warmth of another being\'s flesh beneath his fingers. In his silent
marvelling at the perfection of the animal\'s body he had found
curled up beside him on the floor, deeply asleep, when he
himself had woke up early in the morning, his fingers still tangled
in the thick fur of the wolf\'s neck. The Slytherin remembered his
hand moving, even though he couldn\'t recall having consciously
decided to tell it to do so, and there was this tremendous joy
exulting inside of him, the nameless bliss he had felt when he
reached the wolf\'s ribcage where he was greeted by a heart,
constantly, softly slamming against his fingers, where the regular
movements of a slowly rising and falling chest had told him
about the animal\'s calm breathing, and he could feel the smooth
shifting of muscles when the wolf had stretched in his sleep with
a content, drowsy sigh...there was peace and glory and
perfection, and he was touching it, without his world being
slammed into pieces, without his body and mind falling apart,
and the overwhelming magnificence of that moment, the gratitude
and salvation flooding his body brought a very rare, generous
smile to his face.

Until the sound of the first birds\' singing had knifed through the
power of his joy.

It was so difficult to explain. Maybe even impossible. How was
Remus supposed to see, after the Gryffindor had only just had
to accept the effects of Severus\'s terror in the face of the wolf\'s
appearance with thsingsing of the moon, that now the Slytherin
had been just as afraid of the man\'s return with the dawning of
the day? Was it enough to desperately try to describe how
unbearable it had been to know that with the human, he would
have had to face the ritual again as well? That all the bliss of being
able to touch would have been replaced by the violent need to
run, to escape, to get away as far as possible? That after Severus
had been blessed to see how Voldemort had been defeated by the
wolf that night, he would have been forced to helplessly watch and
experience first-hand how the Dark Lord would have triumphantly
prevailed again in the morning?

He had not been able to. Last night had been a treasure, and all
he would be allowed to keep from it were his memories...so
he had wanted them to remain as untouched, as pure as possible.
Not end up being affected by the Dark Lord\'s ritual. Not be
befouled by Voldemort\'s long arm. It had been so very important
to leave without being relieved to have done so. To leave because
he himself had decided to do so, without the slightest hint of fear
of Remus\'s human presence. To leave with the most wonderful,
glorious feeling of his body belonging to himself for the first time
since the Dark Lord\'s return. With the same profound,
magnificent gratitude and joy that had still been singing and
echoing through his entire being. For the first time in decades.

So he had left. Before sunrise. Before Remus had made it back.
Despite awakening the wolf. Despite the sadness even he had
been able to see in the animal\'s eyes. Despite the small, pleading
whimper that had followed him all the way down to the dungeons.

Despite the awareness that, again, he had hurt one of the very few
persons he regarded as a friend. One of the very few he did not
*want* to hurt. The only person he had ever entrusted with the truth
about his being bound to the Dark Lord. The only one who would
ever be able to allow him to escape this bondage, to laugh right into
Voldemort\'s very face, even if it was only for one night.

One of the very few persons who might believe him if he said that
he was truly sorry.

Had he not been a Slytherin as well, he might not have managed
to finally, immediately after he had finished, face the one his long,
extensive and honest confession had been intended for.

It was a good thing that he did so, or he would probably have
missed how the soft, flickering light from the fiade ade the smile on
Remus Lupin\'s face dance. It wasn\'t lenient, or merciful, there was
no trace of either a patronizing benignity or a munificent forgiveness
in it, nor the slightest hint of amusement. It was instead a telling smile,
letting the Slytherin know that the werewolf did see. That he
understood. And that he, most of all, did indeed believe hIt wIt was
an affirming smile, flashing the Gryffindor\'s acceptance of each of
Severus\'s emotions and actions across the room, free of any
reproach. It was a grateful smile, heavy with thankfulness for the
other\'s trust, loaded with the knowledge that thoroughly revealing
his emotions as Severus had done had been anything but natural
or easy for the spy.

But above all this, it was a loving smile. One that directly burned its
way right down to the Slytherin\'s hearne tne that would leave its trace
for the rest of Severus\'s life. One that completely enfolded him in the
warmth and safety of the embrace that the two of them were not able
to share physically.


Author’s note:
Yay! It finally happened! Chapter14’s up and running, and if
everything’s going right, chapter15 will follow soon…
*katkeepsherfingerscrossed*
Thanx to all you wonderful readers and reviewers - your
generous patience mortifies me *bowstothefloor*!

Cheers and salve,
Kat