Finding Love

The Hogs Head would suffice, Severus grudgingly admitted. After spending the night tossing and turning and the day working in his dungeon laboratory, Severus needed to escape. He would prefer The Den, but since he was expected at Dumbledore’s brunch the next morning, that wasn’t an option. Long-distance Apparition required concentration, something one generally didn’t find after drinking. Therefore, the Hogs Head would suffice.

“Firewhiskey,” he quietly demanded. “The bottle, unopened.” He dropped the money on the bar with one hand while the other took the bottle. The place was busier than usual, but Severus found an empty booth in the corner. A wave of his hand extinguished the lone candle on the table. He wanted the darkness.

Another wave opened the bottle and popped the cork. He inhaled the sharp aroma of the drink before taking a large gulp. The liquid slid down, making his throat feel as rough as it did with the headache potion. He winced slightly as he swallowed and the burn settled in his stomach.

Lupin . . . His thoughts went the one direction he didn’t want to go. Damn him! He took another swig, trying to suppress the image in his mind. Those dark amber eyes, full of warmth and— no! He wouldn’t allow that thought. Love wasn’t for him.

Another gulp helped to numb his mind, but the images returned. The dark auburn hair, always appearing slightly unkempt . . . The paleness of skin as the full moon approached . . . The patched robes that hung loosely . . . No!

Two quick gulps worked their way down as he sought out other thoughts. How to best torment the first years. The lessons for the fourth years. What potions ingredients needed restocking. Tasks for those serving detention. He smiled slightly, his mind playing the memory of Black being blatantly ignored by Lupin after that prank. Lupin looked – no! He wouldn’t allow that thought to continue.

Blast him! He thought. He did something to me with that potion. The events of the night before replayed in his mind. Amortentia? No – it definitely was that ghastly headache potion Pomfrey brewed. The water from his pitcher couldn’t be tampered with, either – he didn’t survive meals with Death Eaters without furtively checking his food and drinks. He took another gulp of the firewhiskey as he noticed a familiar figure approaching.

“Severus,” that voice said, the man it belonged to slinking into the booth like it had at The Den. His response was a curt nod.

Half-lidded as they were from the firewhiskey, his eyes followed the arm that reached over the table. They watched the long, thin fingers unfurl from a pale, scarred hand. Electricity sparked as those fingers brushed against his, slowly taking the half-empty bottle from his grasp.

Everything closed in. He saw only this man across from him. He heard only the deep breathing of their lungs. He felt the pounding of his heart in his chest. He tasted the firewhiskey lingering in his throat. He smelled the scent of animal in the air.

His eyes followed the bottle to those lips, watching as they wrapped around the neck of the bottle. They watched as the man's throat worked to swallow the liquid, his own working against his wishes. His pale skin tingled, remembering the touch of those fingers as a second gulp was swallowed.

“Mmmm,” Remus purred, nodding as he set the bottle back on the table. “Good stuff,” he gruffly said, his lips smacking slightly.

Severus remained silent, watching that man moisten his lips. Those lips . . . I wonder—no! He suppressed the shudder his body wanted to expend with that particular thought. “Come to gloat, Lupin?” he said, his gaze hardening to match the fierceness in his voice.

“Never, Severus,” he calmly said. “I have been in your position – in many ways, I still am.”

“What position might that be?”

“Knowing your secret,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “I can smell it, even without the moon.” Before Severus realized it, Remus was standing next to him, leaning over. His lips brushed against his ear. “I know you’re gay,” he whispered.

The logic of the statement hit with the force of the Cruciatus Curse. He sobered instantly, adrenaline clearing his mind faster than any hangover potion. Cursing himself for letting that secret escape his supposedly impenetrable mind, he quickly rose and followed Lupin’s fading footsteps.

He knew. The werewolf knew. Now what? Possibilities raced through his mind. He could deny it, scoff at the very notion, but he didn’t need legilimency to see that Remus wouldn’t fall for it. The Fidelius Charm could keep it a secret, but that would require someone else to be the secret-keeper. Having one person know was one too many as it was – two would be out of the question. Could he make an Unbreakable Vow with Remus not to share this with anyone? No, that required a third person, too. Severus swore under his breath. The bloody Gryffindor werewolf had him in a bloody corner!

He stopped at the end of the block, silently swearing at losing sight of Lupin. Damn it to Hades! I can face the Dark Lord but I can’t keep sight of a bloody—“ He never finished the thought. A hand clamped down on his shoulder. The sudden jerk of apparition – even side-along – was faster than his war-trained skills of self-defence.

The abrupt landing jolted through his stiff body. Twisting out of the hand on his shoulder, he cursed loudly as his gaze took in Lupin grinning at him. “Lupin!” he barked. “What the—“

The rest of his thought was lost as those lips of Lupin’s – those slivers of flesh – devoured his. Those long fingers found their way into his hair while those scarred hands pressed him closer.

Severus felt the fiery passion rise, knowing it wasn’t the return of the firewhiskey. This was passion, pure and simple. The years of resistance to the feeling broke as his mouth yielded to the demanding contact. The desires suppressed for so long surged through his body. His hands grabbed at the hips digging insistently while his feet firmly rooted himself to the spot. All logical thinking left his mind.

“Lupin,” he managed to gasp as the other continued kissing along his jaw. “Remus . . . how did you – ungh!”

“I can smell it,” he whispered, licking the ear he spoke into. “No woman has been close enough to you—“ he kissed behind that ear-- “to leave their scent.” Remus inhaled deeply as he buried his face against Severus’ neck. “You’re gay, Severus,” he whispered, “and it would greatly embarrass you if that secret was revealed.”

“How long . . .” he panted as the werewolf found a particularly sensitive spot, “have you—“

“Known about you?” Remus finished, pulling back to meet the questioning gaze. “Since Hogwarts.”

Damn! Severus thought.

“You do hide it well,” Remus admitted with a soft smile. “I’ve watched you. I doubt even Dumbledore suspects.”

“And who knows you . . .” Severus questioned, logic beginning to function again in his mind.

“No one who will talk,” he stated, one hand now making lazy circles on Severus’ back.

“Unbreakable Vow?”

“Azkaban.”

Ah. Only Black knows. Perhaps there was a chance this wouldn’t go any farther. Roughly, he broke the physical contact. “What do you want, Lupin?” the razor-sharp edge clear in his voice. “What is the price to keep my secret?” Finally able to take a step away, he took in his surroundings for the first time.

The Shrieking Shack. He had avoided the place, for that memory was among the most powerful in his mind. That moment in time flashed before his glazed eyes as he stumbled backwards. Only the wall stopped his momentum. He remembered the damp smell of the dirt, the piercing screams vibrating through his body. He remembered the complete and total fear that flooded him at the sight of the monster. It had taken nearly a year of concentrated effort to bury that image. It had been quite a sleepless year, that nightmare finding its way into his consciousness every night. Now, the werewolf had brought him to the very place that created that horrid memory.

A feral gleam in those auburn eyes drew him out of his reverie. He fought to quell the fear rising in himself. Frantically, he tried to recall the date and the lunar cycle. Silently cursing himself for not paying attention to those details, he risked a glance at the one window in the room not boarded up.

The moon hung in the sky, its light partially obscured by the clouds. “The full moon isn’t for another week, Severus,” Remus stated. “I wouldn’t put you in danger.”

“You have before,” he hissed, eyes squinting. “None of your friends will save me now. Come to finish—“ Convulsively, his hands went to his throat, as if they could rip away the silencing spell. Inwardly, he grudgingly admitted that he had underestimated Remus. The werewolf had been able to cast a nonverbal spell without Severus noticing.

“Enough, Severus,” Remus hoarsely stated. “That was years ago. How long will you hold it against me? How long will it take for you to realize I was transformed? That . . . that a bloody monster was in control and not me? That I didn’t want ANYONE to know, not even—“ He choked back a sob. “They’re gone, now, not that it’s much of a secret, thanks to the registry.” He snorted in disgust, moving to stand in the filtered moonlight from the window. A wave of his hand released the silencing spell.

“I didn’t bring you here to turn you into the monster I am,” he said with a sigh. “Nor to make a deal. There’s been enough pain caused and felt for each of us. Let the old wounds heal.”

Severus moved to stand in the darkness, facing this . . . man. The moonlight striking his face only added shadows to the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. He stood utterly still, his chest barely moving with the breath of his lungs. His hands hung limply; his shoulders drooped, completing the picture of a man in sadness. The sight was eerily reminiscent of another night shared between them, one that Severus suddenly recalled with renewed vigor.

The spring of their seventh year was a time of uncertainty. Inside the walls of Hogwarts, all thoughts were on NEWTS. Outside, though, no one was safe from the war. Late at night, the Astronomy Tower became a place of refuge for Severus. The silence and the darkness created the comfort he craved.

One moonlit night, Remus had somehow found him alone at the tower. Other than as needed in classes, they had not spoken to each other. That night, their voices were heard. Remus pleaded, cried and begged for understanding of that fateful night at the Shrieking Shack. Severus responded with insults, the years of humiliation and embarrassment by the Marauders pouring out at the half-breed. All talk ended when he, Severus, hexed the emotionally-battered Remus. He winced, remembering just how strong that hex had been. The scent of blood hung over the tower for nearly a month, despite every spell, potion and charm he tried.

Hesitantly, Severus reached out, taking one of Remus’ hands into his own. His other hand reached over to push back the robe’s sleeve, undo the single button on the cuff and move that sleeve away as well. Severus stared at the scar before him, silently cursing himself for marring the beautiful skin. Unlike the self-inflicted scars of being a werewolf, this one was permanent. It would never fade with time. It would be a constant reminder of that seventh-year encounter.

The fingers of his free hand grazed over the puckered skin as his thumb gently rubbed into the palm it held. His light touch felt the sinewy muscles shudder with the contact. He heard the sharp gasp of breath and saw something he never expected in that warm gaze.

“I have always had feelings for you, Severus,” he whispered.

Severus let go and stepped back out of instinct. No! he thought. Instinct drove his mind to fortify those barriers that close his mind. It wasn’t possible. Love wasn’t for him. He wasn’t a fool.

“Why do you fight it?” Remus asked. “I know it’s in you. I know you can.”

“Damn you!” he muttered before Apparating to the gates of Hogwarts. The last thing he saw was that warm gaze piercing through his well-built armour.

* * * * *

Back in the comforts of his chambers, the adrenaline quietly wore off. He sat facing the glowing embers of the fire, idly fingering the empty teacup on the table. The darkness comforted him, the silence not even broken by the sound of his beating heart or raspy breathing.

I have always loved you, Severus. He scowled. Love was for fools; this just proved the ineptitude of the werewolf.

* * * * *

AN: Reviews are welcomed! PLEASE??