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Part 3 of 3:

Two days later, Severus found himself, quite improbably, standing in the middle of a tiny kitchen in an apartment in central London, surrounded by people who were appraising him with a mixture of trepidation, anticipation, and scorn on their faces.

If he’d had to retrace his life up to this point, if someone had asked him to pinpoint exactly where all of this had begun, and why, moreover, it had ended up here, in this place, he wouldn’t have known where to start explaining. All he knew was what he felt in his gut – whatever instinct had led him to contact Dumbledore the other night.

As planned, he had gone out the following morning with the eight tiny bottles hidden in the folds of his robes, heading for the river. From there, he would have been able to cast a Water Charm to carry the contents of the bottles to the nearest drinking water plants, and into the taps of central England. When he’d arrived at the banks, Fawkes the phoenix had been waiting for him, as promised. He’d looked at the bird apprehensively at first; how on earth, after all, was a pyromaniac rooster supposed to help him? But he took a leap of faith in Dumbledore and told Fawkes everything: that the werewolf plan was in motion. That he couldn’t go through with it. And above all, that he needed to get out of Voldemort’s service.

When he’d finished, he chanced a peek at the bird. It said nothing, obviously, but its eyes twinkled. It had bowed to him somewhat formally, and then, before he could stop it, Fawkes had gobbled the eight little bottles in his beak and flown off. Severus recalled watching him go and wondering if perhaps that hadn’t been Fawkes after all, and he had just spent ten minutes confessing the most intimate secrets of his life to a sodding woodpecker or some such thing. Certainly, if anyone had been watching him, they would have declared him right mad, then and there, and hauled him off to either St Mungo’s or the Muggle institutional equivalent. He’d shuddered at the thought. And, moreover, what was he supposed to tell Lucius that afternoon about the potion?

But later that day, when Severus had returned to his laboratory, there had been a note, written in a sort of charmed version of Swahili, in his bottle of Scotch. Lucius had shown up shortly afterwards, having already heard about the vicious attack on Snape by Dumbledore’s pet bird, and the loss of the potion. “It’s all right, old chap, the Dark Lord understands how frustrating that fucking bird can be – seems to be impervious to any spell one throws its way – well, no matter, we’ll come up with a new plan that doesn’t involve going into public where they can find us…”

Thus he found himself with some bought time, which he then used, at Dumbledore’s request, to visit the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix that evening, staring down dubious members of Dumbledore’s team – mostly people he had gone to school with, and who evidently did not trust him much farther than they could hurl him on a broomstick. He glared back at them with his nastiest sneer.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Friends. We have important business tonight, and what we discuss here could very well change our fortunes in this war.” He turned to Severus. “I think many of you already know Severus Snape.”

Quiet nods of assent circled the room, accompanied by muffled agreements.

“What in ruddy hell is he doing here?!” a new voice at the back of the room called out loudly and angrily, and everyone turned to see Sirius Black storming into the kitchen, followed by Remus Lupin.

“Sirius, Remus, glad you could join us,” said Dumbledore. “Please, have a seat.”

“Apologies, Albus,” Remus ventured, his eyes darting to Severus. “Lily needed some help getting ready for… their new place.”

“Not at all, dear boy, not at all.”

“What’s he doing here, Albus?” repeated Sirius dangerously, his voice trembling with fury. “Don’t tell me you’ve thrown in the towel already? I know things aren’t going well, but we can’t just wave the white flag! Send him away; we will not negotiate!”

“Sirius!” Dumbledore called loudly, and the other man fell silent. “Calm yourself, lad. Severus is not here to negotiate. He is here at my invitation.”

Excited whispers broke out across the room, and Severus stole a glance at Remus. He found the other man already gazing at him with a look of intense curiosity, mixed with apprehension, on his face.

“Snape?” Remus suddenly asked across the din. “Are you all right?”

Severus’s heart began to pound at this expression of fear and concern. He wished he could just take Remus aside and tell him everything; but no, he had already decided he would never do that, and Dumbledore had agreed to keep the secret as well.

He simply nodded curtly to Remus and turned his attention once again to Dumbledore.

“Quiet, please,” Dumbledore called again, and the chattering subsided. “Severus will be working for us as of today. You do not need to know the details of his situation, but suffice it to say that he has put himself in great danger by agreeing to provide us with information on Voldemort’s activities. You all will treat him as a respected member of this team, but at the same time, you will, whenever possible, forget that you have ever seen him here, and you will under no circumstances reveal his presence to anyone, even someone you think you trust, unless that person is an Order member. Do I make myself clear?”

Nods of agreement broke out again. Severus noticed that Sirius Black’s jaw had dropped to the floor, while Remus’s eyes had widened in disbelief.

“No!” Remus stepped forward suddenly. “That is much too dangerous! Albus, you can’t let him do this.” His worried eyes darted between Severus and Dumbledore.

“It’s already done, Lupin,” said Severus softly.

Sirius let out a bark of frustration and turned abruptly on his heel, storming out of the kitchen and slamming the door behind him. The crack it made reverberated through the silent room as the remaining occupants exchanged timid glances.

Dumbledore watched him go, then calmly turned back to the crowd. “That is all, I believe. Back to work, now.”

The group dispersed, but Remus hung back with Severus and Dumbledore. When the room was empty, he spoke again.

“Snape, please,” he began. “I don’t know what’s happened, but come on, have you thought this through? You can leave, you can go into hiding; we can get you to France – can’t we, Albus?” He turned pleadingly to Dumbledore for a second, then back to Severus. “Or farther, if you need it – to Bulgaria, to fucking Africa! But not this. He’ll find out, Snape. He’ll kill you, you know he will.”

Severus swallowed thickly but crossed his arms haughtily to mask his emotion. “I didn’t know you cared so much, Lupin,” he growled.

“Of course I do,” whispered Remus. “There’s got to be another way.”

“It will be all right, my boy,” Dumbledore interjected, “though your concern is well-noted. Severus knows what he’s doing. He’s being trained in Occlumency to shield his thoughts from Voldemort, and we have developed many advanced means of communication to avoid the detection of the Death Eaters.”

“But - ”

Dumbledore held up his hand. “No more arguing, Remus. I understand your concern, but I think you know as well as any of us how extensive Severus’s skills are as a wizard. I have every confidence that he is up to this task; if I did not, I would never have allowed him to undertake it.”

Remus slumped against the wall in resignation.

“Now, I trust you will do everything you can to help Severus with whatever he needs?”

Remus nodded. “Of course.”

“And you will speak to Mr Black?”

Remus snorted and looked to the ceiling briefly before returning his gaze to Dumbledore. “Yes, I’ll speak to him. As you might imagine, he isn’t going to like this one bit.” He paused for a moment and shook his head. “But I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.”

“Good. Now, if you two will excuse me…” He smiled gently at both Severus and Remus, then with a quiet pop, he was gone.

“Cause trouble?” Severus raised an eyebrow at Remus.

“You picked a fine time to defect, Snape. Sirius is already just about bonkers, suspecting everyone and everything around him of spying on the Order. James and Lily have gone into hiding because of the Prophecy, everyone’s sure there’s a mole in the group, no one thinks we will ever win this thing…” Remus trailed off despondently.

“So I should give Black a wide berth, should I?”

“I would – for now, anyway. He’ll be right pissed off at this double agent business – he didn’t trust you with his Flobberworm homework when we were eleven, and he sure won’t trust you with Order secrets now.”

Severus grunted. Black, that sodding git.

“Well, anyway,” Remus continued, smiling at Severus. “I’m can’t say I’m not glad you’re back, even if I do think you’re right mad for taunting Voldemort right under his nose like this. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what happened to lead to this?”

“No.”

“Thought not.” Remus chuckled softly, then let his gaze wander over to a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen. “Fancy a drink?” he ventured.

Severus stood momentarily stunned at the invitation, then nodded before he could stop himself. “You have a decent Scotch?” he asked.

“Scotch?!” Remus laughed. “I always thought you had the soul of an old professor trapped in your teenage body, Snape, and now I have the proof. Scotch…” He shook his head softly. “Too much time with the Malfoys, I think.”

Severus suppressed a grin. All right, Remus had a point; it really was ridiculous of him to drink so much Scotch at his age, but hearing Remus teasing him again, just like he used to, seemed to make this whole damned situation more tolerable. He would do almost anything to keep Remus laughing like that; it was always one of his favourite sounds.

“So do you have any or not?” he challenged, straight-faced.

“Of course.” Remus grinned at him and unlocked the cupboard. He poured out two drinks, handing one to Severus and holding his up for a toast. “To NEWT results having no bearing whatsoever on what we’ve ended up doing with our lives,” he said solemnly.

Severus laughed despite himself and clinked his glass to Remus’s. “Indeed,” he agreed.

They stood together for several moments without speaking, sipping their drinks and looking everywhere but at each other.

“Lily,” said Snape at last, “is she all right?” He didn’t know Lily Evans – no, Potter – very well, but she’d always seemed a decent sort, despite her choice of husband. It was the only thing he could think to say to Remus.

“She will be. She’s a bit rattled right now, and dead scared for her baby. But they’re safe now, they’ll be all right. Snape…” Remus turned abruptly to face the other man, and Severus’s breath hitched in his throat. “Are you- are you all right? I mean, really all right? We’ve heard… things, that Voldemort does to his Death Eaters…” He trailed off and sighed wearily. “I just- has he hurt you? Is that why you’re here?”

Severus focused his attention on the amber liquid in his glass, swirling it around a bit before answering. “No, Lupin. Apart from this - ” he raised the left sleeve of his robe to reveal the Dark Mark, still burning deep charcoal on his forearm - “I’m not hurt. I’ve just come to the conclusion that contrary to what I thought when I was seventeen, I am not, as it turns out, capable of inflicting pain and suffering on innocent people without remorse.”

Remus smiled sadly. “Ah,” he said. “Well, I could have told you that. Wait, I did tell you that, didn’t I?”

Severus looked up sharply from his glass, his eyes narrowing. “Spare me your lectures, Lupin. If you want to do the ‘I told you so’ dance, kindly wait until I’m out of sight, would you?”

“All right,” spat Remus with a sudden anger that surprised Severus. “I’ll practice it later on then – but I wonder, should I set it to a polka, or perhaps a waltz? Yes, I think a nice, lilting ‘I told you so’ waltz would suit this occasion, hmm?”

“Fuck off, Lupin.”

“No, you fuck off, Snape!” Remus slammed his glass down on the counter and glared at Severus. “I will say ‘I told you so,’ because it’s bloody well true, and if you had listened to me back at school… hell, I thought you were listening to me, Snape! I thought we’d discussed this. I thought you were going to join us, join the Order, right after graduation, isn’t that what you told me? But no, suddenly exams were over and you were walking up that hill with fucking Lucius Malfoy!”

Severus’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh yes, I saw that, I saw you that day, Snape. I was up in Gryffindor Tower, looking out the window… I was just about to come find you – to congratulate you, to talk to you about the Order…” Remus paused and ran his hands through his sandy hair in exasperation. “Look, I just- I thought we were friends, Snape. There, I said it. I guess you didn’t feel the same as me, but I actually got to like you that last semester at Hogwarts. I liked talking with you, and I was looking forward to working with you, fighting with you. And then, just like that, with no explanation… you were gone.” He snapped his fingers and shook his head.

Severus was stunned. He stared at Remus in silence, his mind reeling. Oh gods, I am such a fool… so many lost years…

But Remus wasn’t finished. “And now, three years later, you just walk in here with that Mark on your arm, and your secrets, and still no explanations, and you’ve been doing Merlin knows what all this time, poisoning good witches and wizards I expect, and I’m not allowed to ask you any questions, and I’m not allowed to tell you that you should have fucking listened to me in the first place?! No, Snape, it’s you who can go fuck yourself.”

“Remus, please…” Severus began, startling himself with his use of the other man’s given name.

But Remus just shook his head and leaned back against the counter. “You just… you hurt me, Snape, all right? It seems the people I care most about in my life are the ones that end up disappointing me the most, and I’m used to that by now from James and Sirius, you know, but you? You were one person I thought I could count on, I guess that’s what this all comes down to. I thought we had something, I thought I could trust you, and it turned out… well. You just left that day.” He gulped and turned away.

Severus stepped forward, the blood hammering in his veins. “Remus.” He closed the distance between them slowly, slowly, tentatively, giving Remus plenty of time to push him away, but he didn’t. He came closer and closer, until he was right in front of Remus, their robes brushing. He locked his gaze on the other man, then raised his hands up and placed them on either side of Remus’s face.

The grey eyes met his black ones and stared deeply into them without flinching. Severus opened his mind then, using all the elementary Legilimency skills at his disposal, letting all his emotions flow through the connection of their eyes. I wanted you so badly, he pleaded. I wanted you and couldn’t have you, don’t you see? I had to leave; there was nothing left for me there…

Whether or not Remus understood him, he never knew. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, after several seconds. Then he let his hands drop and he turned to go, striding out of the kitchen and away from the Order’s headquarters as quickly as he could.

Behind him, in an uncharacteristic expression of frustration and rage, Remus swept one arm across the kitchen counter, sending the empty Scotch glasses crashing to the floor.

*********************************************

Dumbledore – or Fawkes, really – had bought him some time on the werewolf issue, but Severus still ended up with his hands full for the next month, having convinced Voldemort to allow him to take control of the project – to serve as their liaison to the Werewolf Packs.

“Honestly, Severus,” Lucius would say to him, “I don’t know how you can stomach that job, pretending to engage in actual, civilised conversation with those animals – pretending we actually care to negotiate with them! Really,” he drawled, “even if it is for the good of the cause, I can scarcely bear sharing the same planet with them, nevermind the same room…”

And Severus would snort and agree, confirming Lucius’s suspicions about the uncleanliness, the savagery, the imbecility of the werewolves. “It’s like talking to a wooden post, getting their leader to do anything,” he would sniff as Lucius nodded in understanding. “But I do believe I’m making progress. He’s agreed that Dumbledore really can’t offer him very much, and he’s been talking to his group, to the other unregistered werewolves, about the Dark Lord’s plan to redeem the Dark Creatures… he seems very interested in this.”

He never actually went anywhere near the Werewolf Leaders, of course – that would have been suicide. Instead, he used the time to reacquaint himself with the young werewolf currently working to bring the Pack leaders on board with Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix. Remus did go to the Packs, at great personal risk; from his experiences, he was able to feed Severus enough information about them to convince Voldemort and his Death Eaters – most notably, Lucius Malfoy – that Severus himself had been negotiating with them.

It was amazing to Severus, in a way, how easy the whole thing seemed to be. He had expected much more fear, danger, risk – but instead, he was permitted to leave Voldemort’s lair every week under the pretence of meeting with the werewolves, and he would use the occasion to relay to the Order a variety of information about Death Eater plans – for poisonings, for kidnappings, for tortures.

After his outburst that first night of Severus’s defection, Remus, for his part, had settled into a relative acceptance of his new colleague’s role. They spoke little, but when they did, it was with a surprising ease – the kind reminiscent of very old friends who instinctively knew what the other would say before they even said it. Remus took every opportunity to poke jabs at Severus about joining Voldemort in the first place, and about how he, Remus, had an uncanny record of being right about, oh, everything they had ever debated. Severus, meanwhile, continued to give Remus a hard time about his work as Dumbledore’s emissary to the Werewolf Societies in the Scottish Highlands, reminding him that he had Severus to thank for no longer suffering from complete ignorance of their existence.

Black maintained a careful distance from Severus, which the latter assumed was on Remus’s – and Dumbledore’s – orders, but every so often when he was talking with Remus, he would look up to see Black watching them intently – turning to leave abruptly whenever Severus caught him looking. Severus did not know for certain whether the nature of the relationship between Remus and Black was the same as it had been at school… the same as he had seen that day in the Room of Requirement… but Black’s ongoing possessiveness of Remus and loathing of Severus seemed to confirm that it was.

But for the most part, Black seemed more concerned with Potter and his wife than with Remus during those days and weeks leading up to Halloween night of that year, and Severus was surprised to learn that he was mostly able to ignore the man and focus on keeping his work discreet, and himself alive.

It had all been fairly easy… too easy… and Severus should have guessed that the false sense of security into which he had been lulled was bound to come crashing to a halt at any moment. Still, when the moment came, he was not prepared for it – and indeed, he could never in his darkest nightmares have imagined how gut-wrenchingly horrific it would turn out to be.


*********************************************

“He’s what?”

“Gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’? Gone where? What are our orders while he’s gone?”

“No, Severus, you don’t understand.” Lucius’s face was a deathly shade of pale, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Listen to me: you must get yourself out of here, pretend you’ve never seen this place before. Go abroad for awhile – just get out of here! The Ministry will be here soon…”

“Lucius, what’s happened? Where is the Dark Lord?” Severus stood stock still in his laboratory, gazing at Lucius with a mixture of hope and horror churning in his stomach.

“We don’t know,” whispered Lucius in a tiny voice. “We don’t know, Severus. He went to find the Potters, and after he killed them, he… disappeared.”

“That’s impossible,” said Severus shortly.

Lucius’s patience was spent. “I don’t have time for this, Severus!” he shouted suddenly. “I’m leaving, now, that’s what I came to tell you, and I suggest you do the same.” He whirled around and dashed for the door.

“Wait, Lucius!” Severus called. “The Potters – how did he find them? We’ve been looking for ages, they were gone…”

Lucius paused briefly and explained what had happened, then turned again and fled. “Get out of here, Severus,” he warned. “Get out now…”

He had barely been gone for two minutes when Severus heard Dumbledore’s voice in his fogged head.

“Severus,” it began, and the younger man immediately knew that Lucius was right – about Voldemort, about the Potters, about the fact that the end had finally come. “Please come to Headquarters immediately.”


*********************************************


Severus materialised before Dumbledore exactly thirty seconds later, smoothing the front of his robes before looking the older wizard squarely in the eye. “It’s true, then?” he asked.

Dumbledore nodded heavily. “Yes. All of it.”

Severus exhaled slowly, his head suddenly pounding. “Black,” he hissed, fire raging behind his dark gaze. “Albus, we should have - ”

“You!” Severus was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Remus Lupin, barging through the library door pointing a long index finger at him. “Snape, you fucking traitor.”

Severus blinked at him in some surprise, but maintained his calm demeanour. “Lupin, what are you on about?”

“You knew,” spat Remus, covering the distance between them in what seemed like a single stride and grabbing Severus by the collar. “You knew he was spying, you knew, and you didn’t fucking tell us. You didn’t tell me, you piece of rotten flesh, it’s you who should be dead – you let this happen, you knew, you knew, you knew!” He shook Severus hard and pushed him back against the wall.

“Remus!” Dumbledore thundered, his booming voice echoing around the room for several seconds. “Stop this,” he added more quietly.

Shaking with rage, Remus let out a howl and fell to his knees in the middle of the floor, his hands flying to his mouth. “You knew,” he repeated. “You fucking knew… Sirius… oh gods, Snape, why did you let him do it? Why, why? I need to understand… I just… oh gods.” He choked back a sob and sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth. “You knew, you knew, you knew, you knew…”

Severus felt all the wind rush out of his lungs in that one moment. He struggled for breath, his eyes never leaving Remus’s broken form on the floor. He would never forget the despondency he saw that day. Remus’s normally bright grey eyes were hollow sockets of granite, burst blood vessels punctuating the sorrow in them. A long, deep slash wound cut into one cheek, and another sliced across his collarbone. His long hair hung limply and matted around his face, which was a shade of ash Severus had never quite seen before.

Somewhere deep inside of him, under the crisp folds of his pressed black robe, Severus’s heart broke into a thousand pieces.

“Remus,” Albus spoke again, more gently this time. “None of us will ever understand why this happened. Voldemort had great abilities for fomenting discontent in rival factions; it seems he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams with your friends. But you mustn’t blame yourself, and you certainly must not blame Severus. Do I make myself clear?”

Remus raised his head slightly but could neither nod his assent nor indicate his disagreement. He simply stared, vacantly, at the old man.

“He’s gone now,” Severus added in a quiet voice. “The Dark Lord has been defeated, Lupin. Tomorrow will be a new dawn for the Wizarding World, can’t you see that? We’ve won.”

Remus turned his head slowly from Dumbledore to Severus, fixing his tombstone eyes on him. “We’ve won?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “I’ve lost everyone I love, Snape. Everyone.” He rose slowly from the floor, as if every movement pained him. “Because of you.”

Severus felt as though he’d been stabbed with a blunt knife, and someone was wrenching the tip around, around, around in his gut. He’d never felt such pain in his life.

Remus turned and strode back out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Severus slumped into a nearby chair as Dumbledore frowned and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I’ll speak to him, my boy,” the Headmaster said quietly. “Don’t you worry about it for one second, hmm? You’re right: we have won. Remus will understand that; he just needs time.” He gave Severus a knowing nod and left him to his thoughts.

But Severus couldn’t hear anything that was said after Remus’s last words. Because of you. He thought he would be sick. All this work, all this time, all this risk… for nothing. It didn’t matter that the Dark Lord was vanquished; Remus was right: the person Severus cared most about in the world had ended up paying the highest price of any of them for this victory. He had lost everyone close to him, and in the most horrendous way possible – through the treachery of his best friend. Severus grimaced and closed his eyes in horror. His lover.

He would never be able to comprehend what Remus was feeling at that moment; he would never fully understand the pain that must have consumed the man upon discovering, after the fact, that his lover had been responsible for the deaths of three of his closest friends. Whatever chance he might have had with Remus – however remote – was gone now; Severus had held out hope that if the war ever ended, he may still have an opportunity to bring Remus fully into his life; to confess how he felt; to pursue him properly.

But now… it was impossible. If Remus even lived through this grief – and if it were Severus in his place, he was not certain he would be able to bear it – he would never forgive Severus his double agent role. He would always hold Severus responsible for what had happened… for not reporting that Black was working for Voldemort, for not stopping him from revealing the Potters’ Fidelius to the Dark Lord, for not intervening on behalf of Pettigrew and all those Muggles on the street that day.

The worst of it was, had Severus indeed known about any of these things, he would have done all he could to stop it. But, alas, what Remus would never understand, would never believe even if he was told a thousand times: Severus had not known.


*********************************************

Two days later, his world upside down, Severus arrived back at the Order’s headquarters to speak to Dumbledore about taking over the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts. They both knew what wasn’t said: that the job had decidedly not been offered because of Severus’s proven skills as a schoolteacher.

They stood in Dumbledore’s study for some time, watching each other intently, before Severus finally spoke. “I’m not afraid of them, Albus; I have no reason to be. They don’t know.”

Dumbledore appraised the other man thoughtfully over his half-moon spectacles. “No,” he agreed at last. “I do not believe they know. The remaining Death Eaters are too busy righting their own alibis now to spend much concern for you and your activities of late.”

“Then this position at Hogwarts is unnecessary,” said Severus curtly. He did not particularly wish to spend the next who-knew-how-many years teaching children to use a cauldron.

“Severus,” Dumbledore began, in that voice he used to explain complex school rules to Hogwarts first-years. “Voldemort is not gone; you know that as well as I do. I cannot say right now where he is, but as his personal Potions Master I do believe you are fully aware that he has ensured, through chemical and magical means combined, that he cannot ever die, as such.”

Severus took a deep breath and looked out the window. Yes, he knew that very well indeed, having brewed several of the potions himself that the Dark Lord had used to secure his immortality.

“Your role in this war has been invaluable, my boy; you know that as well,” continued Dumbledore. “I believe with a heavy heart indeed that while we have been given a chance at peace for now, Voldemort will be back – and when he returns, I shall need you again, more than ever. I must therefore ask you to continue your work for us, by continuing to convince the remaining Death Eaters that you have earned my trust and are using your proximity to me and to Hogwarts to gather further intelligence, to be used upon Voldemort’s return.”

Severus raised his eyes again to the older man. “Ah,” he said softly. “You mean to watch the Potter child and purport to keep the Death Eaters informed of his activities.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “They will be back for him, Severus,” he replied, a sadness shining in his blue eyes. “This will not end until the Prophecy has been fulfilled. They must believe you are working to prevent Harry from…” His voice trailed off in an uncharacteristic inability to speak plainly.

Severus simply nodded, his face freezing in consternation. “And in the meantime, I must secretly protect that great, idiotic prat’s son from the Dark Lord,” he finished with a bitter snort.

“He has his mother’s charm on him, Severus,” warned Dumbledore. “He will be a good lad.”

“I have ten thousand Galleons that says he turns out exactly like his father,” hissed Severus. “Arrogant, cruel, and eventually? Dead.”

Dumbledore’s usually calm demeanour suddenly shifted, as his eyes flashed icy fire at the other man. “You are under orders, Severus, my orders, to protect that child!” His voice boomed throughout the study, and Severus instinctively took a step backwards. “Do I make myself clear?”

Severus met his gaze then and held it for some moments – and in that time, he saw in Dumbledore’s mind the wreckage the world would become should Voldemort succeed in fulfilling the Prophecy. Oh, the cruelty of the gods, he thought bitterly, that he should be destined to swear, on his life, to do all he could to protect the offspring of his worst enemy from the vengeance of his second-worst enemy. But Dumbledore was right; he had no choice. Potter’s child, of all the people in the universe, was destined to save the Wizarding World. Merlin help them.

He lowered his eyes. “Perfectly,” he muttered.

“Good,” said Dumbledore, resuming his friendly face. “Then I shall expect you at Hogwarts no later than this weekend, and your classes will begin on Monday.”

Severus let out an impatient breath. “Very well, Albus,” he sneered. “But please, not Potions. I’ve had quite enough of that wretched profession for one lifetime, thank you.”

The older man frowned and studied the carpet. “You are a fine Potions Master, Severus; the school needs your skills.”

“The school,” Severus spat through gritted teeth, “needs my other skills. Anyone can teach those brats to light a cauldron, but I can teach them how to fight the Dark Lord – really teach them.”

Dumbledore said nothing for several seconds, his hands clasped neatly behind his back as he stared off across the room, pondering his answer. “We’ve been through this, my boy,” he said finally, a hint of exasperation colouring his words. “That Mark on your arm is no idle tattoo. Your proximity to Voldemort, and to Dark Magic as a whole, ensures that you cannot teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Albus - ”

But the old wizard raised a warning hand. “You cannot, Severus. You must not. Even the words in the children’s textbooks will sense that Mark on you, and they will claw their way off the pages to get to you and influence your actions. I will not allow you anywhere near a classroom in which Defence Against the Dark Arts is taught, is that understood?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster in frustration. “That Mark,” he replied, venom coating his voice, “is not who I am.”

“I understand that, Severus, but it is not up to you. That Mark - ” Dumbledore inclined his head towards Severus’s arm - “does not answer to you. It quite has a mind of its own, as you know.”

“I can show those students things that no other Defence teacher will ever be able to show them!” Severus thundered, his patience finally breaking.

Dumbledore betrayed no reaction to the change of tenor in the room. “No, Severus,” he answered simply. “You will show them things that no other Potions Master will ever show them. Now, this discussion is closed.” He held Severus’s gaze with calm determination, and Severus knew that his attempts to argue further would be futile.

He nodded dully and gave a curt bow. “Potions Master, then,” he hissed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “At your service.”

Dumbledore had no chance to reply before the door to the study opened a crack and a head poked inside.

“Albus, I just wanted to say that I’m leaving now, and to thank - ”

Remus stopped dead when he turned his head and saw Severus standing across the room.

“Ah, Remus, my boy, your timing couldn’t be better. Come in, come in, I was just thinking of getting myself a cup of tea. I’ll leave you two to… finalise your business, shall I?” Dumbledore winked imperceptibly at Remus before heading for the door.

“Albus,” Remus began again, “really, I have a train to catch, I don’t have time to - ”

“Then I wish you safe travels,” the old man said kindly, stopping at the door to embrace Remus. “Be safe, my boy, and when you wish to return, you know that you shall always have a home at Hogwarts.”

Remus snorted. “Oh, Albus, please stop saying such things. I’ll believe that when I see the first letters from parents thanking you for hiring a werewolf to teach their children.”

Dumbledore regarded him solemnly. “When you wish to return,” he repeated slowly, “you shall always have a home at Hogwarts.” He inclined his head towards the younger man, then exited the room.

Remus stared at the floor for several seconds before raising his head again to Severus. “Goodbye, Snape,” he said at last. He turned abruptly to leave, but Severus’s voice held him back.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t know what else to say. Leaving? Now? He wasn’t surprised, really, but he was disappointed. He needed time to right things with Remus, he just needed more time… Nothing ever seemed to go the way he’d planned between him and this man – this man who continued to flow in and out of his life, arguing with him, chastising him, mocking him… haunting him.

Remus paused for a moment, seeming to debate whether or not to respond. “Africa,” he said at last.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “How’s your Swahili?” he ventured.

Remus ignored this attempt at humour. “I’ve thought about what you said, Snape, years ago. There are many things I still need to learn.”

“Britain is safe now, Lupin,” Severus began, straining to keep the emotion out of his voice. “You don’t need to learn those things anymore. I only meant that before, when - ”

“No, Snape, I still need to learn them. Voldemort is not gone, we both know that. He’ll come back, and when he does, I’m going to be ready to kill him myself.”

There was a glint in Remus’s eyes that Severus had never seen before; behind the weariness, the grief, the exhaustion… there was rage and a feral desire for vengeance that Severus would never have believed the man in front of him was capable of. Until now.

Severus nodded; there was no point in trying to argue with the man – his mind was clearly made up. “Remus,” he said softly. “Before you leave, I want you to know something.”

The other man looked slowly up at him, but said nothing.

Severus took a deep breath. It didn’t matter now, what he wanted to say, but he needed Remus to know. “I was never informed that Black was spying,” he began. “I did not know. But if I had, I would have done everything in my power to stop him. I wish - ” he faltered slightly. “I want you to know that.”

Remus was silent for another moment, then drew a shuddering breath. “I know, Snape,” he whispered. “Albus told me.”

Thank fucking Merlin, Severus thought. As it were, he was unsure how he was going to handle Remus’s leaving – but were he to leave believing that he, Severus, had known about Black and kept it from him? That would have been more than Severus could bear. There were still a great many things that Remus did not know, and probably did not need to know: about Voldemort’s plot to gather the werewolves, for one; and about the fact that Severus lay in bed every night imagining what it would be like to tie the man up and ravage him, for another. But this one thing he did need to know.

He made a last attempt at convincing Remus to stay. “Your friends’ lives have not been taken in vain,” he said softly. “Did you hear me, Lupin? Voldemort is gone. Maybe he’ll be back, maybe he won’t – we don’t know, but it doesn’t matter right now. You’re safe again, I’m safe again.”

He looked into Remus’s eyes and still saw nothing but death. “Potter’s son,” he continued, his tone growing more urgent in his desperation to convince Remus to stay. “He lives, and he will need you. You must be strong, you must go on, for his sake if no one else’s.”

A tiny spark illuminated in the tombstone eyes at that, then died as quickly as it had come. “Dumbledore is sending him to Lily’s sister,” Remus replied. “He doesn’t need me. No one needs me now.” He glanced down at the suitcase in his hand. “I have to go, Severus. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

Severus suddenly wanted to shake him and scream at him, There’s me, you great blind git! Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at Remus intently. “That’s not true, Lupin.”

But Remus just shook his head rapidly. “You don’t get it, do you, Snape? I am useless. I was tied to an iron cage in the Shrieking Shack that night, a fucking animal howling at the moon! My friends were slaughtering each other and all I could do was think about how badly I wanted to sink my teeth into the bloody sofa across the room.” He put a hand to his forehead in disbelief. “Gods, Snape, of all the nights!”

Severus closed his eyes. “You weren’t there,” he confirmed. Oh, sweet Merlin; it was even worse than he’d feared.

Remus shook his head desperately. “No,” he whispered. “The one night I could have helped, the one night I should have done something…” He composed himself and cleared his throat. “I am a werewolf, Snape,” he said, as if explaining it to himself for the first time. “I will always be a werewolf, and a werewolf is nothing but a useless, feral, dangerous beast. The one night they needed me, and I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t save my friends’ lives.”

“You couldn’t have done anything, Lupin,” said Snape quietly.

“Oh yes, I could have,” he retorted harshly. “Sirius… I should have seen it, I should have known! Betraying his best friend to Voldemort, condemning James and Lily to death… and Peter…” His voice trembled as he choked back a sob. “I could have stopped him from that madness, I know I could have. He would have listened to me, if only I’d been there. I-… oh Snape, what the fuck am I going to do? I can’t live without him, and knowing he did this.”

He dropped his suitcase then and slumped against the wall, banging his head backwards into the rough stone. “Gone, gone… everyone I love… all at once… what do I do now, Snape? What the fuck do I do?”

Snape crossed the room in two strides then and took Remus by the shoulders. “You go on,” he insisted, taking one hand and gently turning the other man’s chin so that he could see his eyes. “Voldemort is vanquished,” he said slowly, emphasising every word. “A new day has come, and you are here to see it. Where is your trademark idealism? This is exactly what you would tell me, were our positions reversed.”

Remus closed his eyes and shook his head, but did not move away from Severus’s hands on his shoulder, his cheek.

“You must go on, for their sakes,” whispered Severus. “For the sakes of those who can’t.”

Remus continued to shake his head slowly. “No, Snape, I can’t. I can’t. It’s too much, I’ll never be able to do it. I’m not strong enough.”

He reached down for Remus’s hands then, held them firmly in his own, and brought them up to rest between their chests, now only inches apart. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Remus reluctantly obeyed, training his sorrow-drenched eyes on Severus’s black depths. “You are the strongest person I know, Lupin,” he pronounced. It was true; Severus was constantly in awe of what Remus endured on a monthly – no, a daily – basis. That he endured it without complaint, further, was astonishing, as far as Severus was concerned. “You will survive this.”

His tone left no room for argument. With a cry of pain and rage, Remus let his head drop down onto Severus’s shoulder, trembling, and allowed Severus to wrap his arms around his shaking body.

They stood like that for a long time, two lost souls, two shattered veterans of a war won at a cost so great that neither of them could ever have anticipated the devastation it would cause. Severus felt, for that fleeting moment, like they were the last two people on earth, and he would have given anything for that to be true, and to keep things that way as long as he could.

Remus in his arms, at last, at last… he closed his eyes and stroked the other man’s hair, rocking him slowly and whispering cautiously in his ear. “Shhh, Lupin, you’re safe, you’re alive, you will go on…” Was there any possible way of preventing this moment from ending?

Severus was not the romantic sort; he felt inherently that emotion was a sign of weakness that the enemy would spot in a heartbeat. But no one in the world had ever made him feel the range of emotions that Remus Lupin did – rage, desire, friendship, loyalty, heartbreak, disappointment, fierce, eternal sexual attraction… and now compassion.

What he needed, right this second, was to take Remus’s arm and lead him to one of the now-deserted bedrooms of the Order’s headquarters… to lay him down on the bed and carefully take his clothes off… to caress that battered body, running his hands slowly, exploring, over every surface, every scar, every bruise… to shed his own robes as well, to let Remus see his desire pulsing for him, to understand how long he’d been waiting, watching, hoping for that very moment… to touch Remus at last, stroking his cock to hardness gently, slowly, with aching tenderness… to watch the desperation in those grey eyes turn to desire, desire for Severus… oh gods! … to lave every dip in that body with his parched tongue… so many years, so many lost years to make up for…

He would even lock up his usual hungry desire for animal sex with the wild, werewolf version of Remus in exchange for one night of slow, agonisingly passionate lovemaking. To wrap Remus in his arms, cover him entirely with his body, rock into him over and over and over again, as the wind rustled the curtains and the air rushing through the wings of the owls outside in the darkness provided the only sound apart from their mutual gasps of pleasure… to bring Remus to blissful release, letting all of his pain and rage and sorrow and every feeling he’d ever had for Sirius Black pour out of him in a steady stream against Severus’s hot skin… and finally, after years of waiting, to plunge himself into the werewolf, pumping rhythmically and urgently, coming desperately to his own orgasm as the sun rose over the trees outside and Remus moaned against him, “Severus, Severus, Severus…”

He opened his eyes now to find Remus still in his arms in the study, his head still lowered onto Severus’s shoulder, his body shaking less and less with each breath. Steadying his nerves, Severus leaned forward slightly and buried his face in Remus’s honey-coloured hair, placing a single kiss on the top of his head. “Go,” he murmured, breathing in Remus’s scent one last time, “and find your peace.”

Remus pulled back gently then and gave Severus a small smile. He let a hand linger briefly on Severus’s cheek, then lowered it to pick up his suitcase again. “Thank you,” he whispered, pausing to allow Severus one last look into his hollow eyes. “Goodbye, Severus.”


*********************************************


With that, Remus took his case in hand and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Severus watched him go, then turned to the window to see him disappear down the street as well, feeling as though his lungs would never be able to bear the pressure building up in them, as though he would burst in two from the emotion locked away in his chest, unable to make itself known or reveal itself in any way. As the outside door clicked shut, Severus pounded his fist into the wall.

Sirius fucking Black, he thought with a sudden, blind rage. That rotten, good-for-nothing, traitorous, bloody bastard. Turning his back on Remus like that, giving up his best friend and his best friend’s wife to Voldemort! And then flicking off that stupid little Pettigrew kid to top it off – who had that kid ever hurt? Severus closed his eyes to steady himself. He should have seen it. He knew Black was a scheming bully of the worst kind, but he’d never believed him capable of this. He should have known better – he should have seen it, and he should have been able to warn Remus, before any of this ever happened.

He should have been able to stop it.

It was all too late now, of course: Remus was gone, and Black was in prison for his treachery. But Severus would never, as long as he lived, forgive Black for what he’d done to Remus, and for cruelly swiping away any chance Severus might have had for happiness with his teenage study mate. No, he would never, ever forgive Sirius Black for that.

Severus would not see Remus Lupin again for thirteen years, and by that time, after Remus walked into Hogwarts with that same old suitcase to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, the number of misunderstandings between them would have multiplied tenfold; combined with Remus’s obsession that year with the possibility that Sirius was innocent of wrongdoing in the Potters’ deaths – a possibility Severus was entirely unwilling to entertain – well, needless to say, they barely spoke a civil word to each other all year.

It would be another agonising two years after that – nearly sixteen after Remus walked out of the Order’s headquarters looking for himself, and nearly twenty since Severus’s werewolf dreams had first begun – before he would finally, finally, be able to tell, and to show, Remus exactly how he felt.


THE END

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Author’s Notes:

1. In Snape and Dumbledore’s conversation about the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, you may notice that the Dark Mark sounds an awful lot like the One Ring. And you may be right. But if Cuarón’s Dementors can look like Ringwraiths…

2. Special thanks to my darling betas for, well, everything, but especially for catching my ridiculously elementary canon errors, and for striking some truly terrible porn language from the sex scenes. This fic would be a steaming heap of rubbish without their keen eyes. Of course, it’s entirely possible that it still is, but the fault for that lies with me, not them (as do any remaining throbbing cocks or canon inconsistencies).