Life in an Alien Land 2: The Werewolf Chronicles

Thanks to all who read and reviewed.

This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Chapter 20: Change Is Gonna Come


I have always been an unpleasant man. I admit this freely. My life thus far had been a series of stress inducing situations that had honed my less than stellar people skills to the sharp edged knife that I used to eviscerate enemies and friends alike. I do not like uncertainty to any degree, and I particularly hate surprises.

Mr. Weasley returned with me, his usual sunny demeanour seemingly undimmed as we hid in the brothel's bare basement. Lucius was to take our completed doubles to Malfoy Manor. I was busy preparing Miss Olajewan's doppelganger in the wine laden nether regions of the facility. Mr. Weasley helped as he could, his skill in Potions, Charms and Transfiguration being more than adequate.

We were on the last stages of the construct of his paramour when he paused, elderberry blood-plasm dripping from his fingers as he infused it into the as yet unformed creature, when he stated, "I bet you wish I had used my powers for good rather than evil at Hogwarts, eh Professor?"

He accompanied the statement with a wry chuckle, which I answered with a mock scowl. "I seem to remember a certain bog being formed for the good of all during Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror. I do believe it might still be there. I set the Carrows the task of undoing it. They never were very proficient at anything other than the odd unforgivable."

"Yeah. That bog was brill though, wasn't it?" Frederick answered with no hint of false modesty. I admired his forthright assessment of his own brand of genius. "Maybe shouldn't have used the garroting gas in it, but live and learn. We couldn't let the old toad win, now could we?"

"Indeed," I sniffed. Silence settled between us, an uneasy cloaking of our tension.

Frederick infused the final bit of elder juice into the doppelganger, and awaited my further instructions. I patted the last bit of mud and flesh into place, hoping that the complex of spells and charms would work. Interactive doppelgangers were normally made with the semen of the men and the menstrual blood of the women that they were set to replace. By necessity, I had modified the spell to use both bits of Miss Olajewan's skin, and a small amount of the amniotic fluid of the infant she carried. I hoped the creature would stand up to scrutiny when Lucius came to get her, otherwise we were fucked. I incanted the final spell and held my breath. The creature lurched forward and Frederick backed away, his mouth hanging open. It turned to him and uttered a low moan, raising its hands as if to touch him. He took another step backwards but recovered quickly enough. The thing took on Miss Olajewan's darkly glowing skin-tone, and then her tightly curled hair began to grow. When the breasts became heavy and lifelike, Mr. Weasley recovered and placed a sheet around the figure with a shaky laugh. His eyes darted to me as the creature leaned heavily on him, attempting to achieve a sort of fumbling intimacy with the werewolf. Perhaps the amniotic fluid had been a mistake. Mr. Weasley pushed the creature to its back gently before casting a binding spell on it. He ran a shaking hand over his face as he retreated against the wall.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, his face white. I turned my back to him, letting him gather himself before I proceeded with any other spells. I heard him say as if to himself, "I wonder if that could be marketed. George and I had started a new line of adult products before the war. This would be perfect."

Trust Frederick Weasley to find a way to make profit in that horror-story moment. I laughed, and after a moment of startlement, he joined me.

It was three weeks from the full moon, and less than two months from our command performance with the Dark Lord. We had little time to prepare.

&*&*&

A little over a week from the full moon, Lucius came to the Colony and retrieved the golems. He had to do so publicly, to show the few adherents to the Dark Lord in the camp that he carried out his duty. It did not go well. Greyback fought with him, attempting to kill the last golem as Lucius acted in a manner consistent with a Gryffindor. Of course, he had his role to play, but from what Frederick and I were told, he received a rather nasty injury from it. Miss Olajewan had already Portkeyed to the Manor at that point, and Lucius threw himself in front of the Sectumsempra cast at the golem, to preserve the illusion that it was indeed Miss Olajewan that he was protecting. I regretted ever inventing that curse.

I knew that I would see Ginevra soon. She would never stay away from a fight that involved a loved one. That I now numbered amongst those she felt the need to protect gave me moment of pause. Perhaps if the curse weren't running through our veins, she might feel differently. I would, when this nightmare was all over, give her a chance to find someone more appropriate, closer to her age, and more socially acceptable. I owed her that much for saving my life, when I might have given into despair.

I made the resolution knowing that I could never return to my singular lifestyle. Even if I did not have the curse running through my body, I could not envision returning to the barren wasteland that my life had always been. I wanted to lay the blame for that situation at Ginevra's feet, but knew that the fault was entirely my own. I had been the one to give my memories to Potter. I had lost them so that he might defeat the Dark Lord, and fat lot of good it did. Somehow, without Lily's haunting presence in my mind, I could see my love for her for what it had been. An obsession. She had been the only good to come out of my horrible childhood. I had latched onto her, the pretty, popular girl, as if I would have ever had stood a chance with one such as her at that point in my life. I had been a fool then, and would remain one. I have always been good at self deceit, yet now, when I needed the capacity, it seemed to flee from me.

The wolf, now a part of me, the pack animal, the Omega yearning for Alpha position, twitched his figurative ears. He, with his canine smile and dog-like cunning, would not allow the Severus of old to return. He would howl and scratch at the gaping wounds of my soul, and make his presence known. He, in his pointed mouthed affability, would destroy the Severus that longed for the quiet solitude of self-doubt and strictly enforced self-loathing. He, with his moon-eyed lunacy, would keep me from being the Severus of old, even as he condemned me to a half-life of hatred, despair, and contempt. I both hated and loved the black creature. The dichotomy was nothing new for me. I had forever taken pride in my intellect, my biting wit, and my own paltry soul, and yet despised the vessel of those traits and the manner in which I had acquired them.

My lycanthropy was just the latest in a long line of failures, to both myself and the ones I loved. That it was the reason I had loved ones was not lost on me. Irony was my constant companion.

I would never give up Ginevra. She was mine. I had marked her with my spunk, my bitter tears, and my mouth. Wolf had howled in the wilds of my soul, and she had answered. She, and to a lesser extent, her family, had become my Pack. I could no more change that situation than I could serve the Dark Lord again with that mindless devotion I had in my youth. Bridges had been crossed and burned. I was no longer the same man as before the brutality of this last year and my barren life before that. I was still snarky, dark, and ofttimes waspish, yet I was also more prone to suffer from lack of human contact, to crave the company of others. I had been that way only one other time in my life, and that was with Lily. I had thought I excised that need from my personality, only to find that the wolf brought it back. I both hated and loved the wolf since it gave me Ginevra.

Frederick left every night, bringing back supplies for Wolfsbane potion. I was to dose Lucius' allies in the Colony, and to reserve some for a later turnings. I brewed almost constantly for four days, letting Weasley spell me when I grew too fatigued to even stir. I watched him as closely as I could, with the limited amount of sleep on which I was functioning, but was also confident in his abilities to not botch the potion at the point I left it.

The day before the full moon found me bottling each dosage, and Frederick passing the potions to the fifty or so werewolves for which it had been brewed. I was surprised to find that Barrett was a member of Lucius' camp. He too walked the knife's edge between the opposing forces, just as I had earlier in my life. My estimation for his intelligence went up several notches. I knew what cunning it took to survive that path.

The night before the full moon found both Frederick and I antsy and snappish. Part of our irritability was natural for those suffering under the Curse, but most stemmed from the strain of the wait. After we wolfed down some meat and a few potatoes brought to us by Barrett, we retreated to our palettes. It was Weasley who broke the silence of the night with the soft, rhythmic rustling of his blankets and a low, throaty moan as he reached culmination. I turned from the noise, my body reacting to the voyeuristic quality of the moment. I have always loved to watch the sexual act. Perhaps that is a vice of all men, I do not know. Lucius had, when we were younger, taken me on sporting nights with him. My pleasure was to view rather than participate. There were few women, even Death Eater slags, willing to put up with my looks coupled with my lack of funds, and pride would not allow me to let Lucius talk one of the tarnished lovelies into shagging me. I was content to watch my friend as he thrust and grunted into the willing, plump flavour of the evening. Lucius had been beautiful in those moments as he strained and strove, his back glistening with sweat, his hair flowing over him and his choice for the evening. At the time, I could have imagined letting him have me as he had those women. It never occurred, yet if he had asked, I would have let him, just to be the focus of his beautiful ardour.

I closed my eyes and another vision rose, this one of Nymphadora and Lupin that night in the dungeons. I took myself in hand, remembering the gold-flecked intensity of Lupin's eyes as he watched Nymphadora gobble my cock and then drink down my emissions. I bucked into my own hand, once, twice, and then came with a long shuddering sigh as I listened to Weasley's breath deepen in slumber. My eyes drifted closed, my hand still covered in my own spunk, my cock still twitching. I dreamt of Ginevra and came again.

I woke with a start later that night, feeling the moon on my face and a body next to mine. Frederick sat hunched next to my pallet, his hair and face in silhouette as he drew his knees under his chin. "Snape."

He shook my shoulder, his nails digging into my flesh as he did. I started to rise, but as I did, I remembered my state of dishabille, and the dried spunk in my fist and on my belly. "What is it, Mr.Weasley, that can't wait until tomorrow?"

"Nothing, really." I heard the thick, shaking quality of his answer, surmising that he had been crying at some point before I awoke. "I just... When Greyback... Did you... Nothing."

I raised up on my elbow, careful to keep the coverlet over my privates. "I think you should return to sleep, Weasley."

"Yeah." Weasley remained where he was, and I could feel the heat of his blue-eyed gaze on my face as he leaned down. He brushed my lips with his fingers. "I always wondered what it would be like to be with a man. You know, not rape. I wonder if it could be nice."

"Weasley," I said, my tone warning. "Go back to your pallet. We have much to do tomorrow."

Frederick remained beside me. "I had a bad dream and... Can you just, you know, hold me? I don't want more than that. You know how it is this time of month."

I felt heat suffuse my face as I surreptitiously cast a cleansing charm and tightened the string to my trousers. I patted the cover next to me, and Frederick dropped into my arms. He settled against my chest, his shaggy head resting on my arm, his breathing coming deeper and steadier as he dozed. I wondered if this was what it was like to have a child, this protective closeness, this feeling of fierce wonder that a person could trust one such as myself so easily. I had held his life in my hands when he was a student, and later during the war, and now he was showing child-like trust in me, the former Death Eater, the murderer of Albus Dumbledore, the werewolf. I rested my hand on his back, letting his warmth suffuse me as I closed my eyes.

"Snape, do you love Ginny?" Weasley's sleepy voice cut through the silence. "I mean, you won't leave her if she gets fat, or grows hair on her chin, right?"

I remained silent, unable to shake the feeling of mirth at the impertinence of the question. Finally, feeling the need to answer the boy's concerns, I said, "You know what I look like. It might be more appropriate to ask the question of her."

I thought he slept until he said, "You're not so bad-looking, you know. Cheri said she and Tonks wanted to do you when they were in school. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet too. It used to drive George and I spare with jealousy."

"Shut up, Weasley." I grumbled, becoming uncomfortable with the cataloguing of my would-be gerontophiles.

"And Percy. He would have let you do him in a minute if he thought he would get a better grade out of it." I could hear the tremor of laughter in the boy's voice. "Charlie would have just done you for free though. He fancied you. He used to wank off and yell your name when he came. George and me heard him do it more than once."

"Enough!" I said, firmly shaking the boy. "I do not need a catalogue of strange leanings of former students, especially those of the Weasley variety."

Frederick laughed then fell silent. After a few moments he asked, "So, do you think I can do it? D'you think I can lead the Pack?"

I patted his shoulder, the gesture coming to me much easier than it would have only months before, no matter my own misgivings about his readiness for the task. "I have utmost confidence in your abilities, Frederick."

I waited for his next question, his next sought assurance, but only heard a slightly nasal breath and a snort. I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep. I would need my strength for the coming fight.






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