Like Wolfsbane for Chocolate

Summary – Lupin had a crush on Snape…way back when…also, some elements of Sirius/Lupin. Basically, this chronicles Lupin’s time at Hogwarts during PoA, from Lupin’s POV.
Spoilers – PoA.
Rating – NC17
Disclaimer – I do not own them, Sam I am, I do not own them….Damn…
Author’s Notes – I went with movie events moreso than book events, so the events of PoA is film canon, not book canon. Also, I followed most events to the letter, but the end was purely created by me, *grin* the matter of the missing girl, etc…blah! Just read it…


Like Wolfsbane for chocolate

It seems to last forever, that first feast in the great hall, welcoming me to Hogwarts. Yes, I’ve been here before, and I’m not especially shy in front of crowds, but I have other things on my mind. The students are accepting and warm, which is nice. The staff is friendly enough, but I am seated next to Severus, and I can feel the tension crackling just to my right, and it almost hurts to turn my head in that direction, as if I am attached to strings. Instead of focusing on that, I stare down at my meal - the best meal I’ve had in months. Veal, chicken, bread pudding, potatoes, seasoned asparagus; my hands can’t decide which to go for first – and of course, there’s this wonderful array of deserts. Everyone who knows me, knows I have a weakness for sweets. If Sirius were here, he’d wonder why I’m going through the pretense of deciding. My heart yearns for the chocolate truffles, among other things.

Beside me Snape seems to be seething, but less so than normal. He’s always been this picture of deep contempt, a thin layer of it just draped over the cold indifference that is him. Stealing quick indirect glances, I notice he doesn’t seem to be eating, instead absently arranging things on his plate. He doesn’t fool me. I know all about him. He’s a ball of nervous energy he hides behind his icy exterior. Few wizards have ever seen the real Severus Snape.

He hasn’t changed much since I first laid eyes on him, quiet, stand-offish, pretending to prefer the solitude behind that curtain of limp black hair. I’d detected something behind those dark orbs even then, a certain longing – for acceptance, or perhaps for love. Of course I’d been searching for my own place then, eleven years old, terrified of being cast aside a loner – like Snape. The others had taken to me like the shore takes to the tide, my mild aura, the way I nudge myself into the woodwork, observing. They wouldn’t know of my condition until later.

Now, after the dinner, I am speaking with Dumbledore as the students file themselves away to their respective houses. The Great Hall is mostly empty, and I feel somewhat exposed. He is speaking to me in that grandfatherly way, and the beat of my heart is slowly quickening. Of course he knows of my condition; he’d known when I’d began Hogwarts as a boy, but still, it worries me. I constantly wonder if he made the right decision, giving me work.

“Remus, put your worries aside. I have utmost faith in you.” His large wrinkled hand rests against my shoulder, and I nod and smile, glad for this opportunity.
I didn’t need to say anything. He simply read my face and saw the worry lines etched alongside the scars. Knowing how much he believes in me, it hurts to feel even slightly hesitant.

Later still, I am making my way to my private quarters nestled beneath Gryffindor tower. My accommodations are far better than I’m used to, and I take a moment to lie back onto the satin comforter and rest my weary body. It shouldn’t feel so good, but it does. I shouldn’t relish it, but I do. I almost feel normal before that strange feeling comes over me, and I am forced upright. This will never work. This nagging in my head, this tickle…There’s only one way to make it go away.

My wand is illuminating my way as I travel down dark corridors, careful not to upset the paintings, watching my feet and wishing for the Marauders map. Merlin, how could I have forgotten the way? I knew it so well once. Of course, James and Sirius did most of the mischief making in those days. I was usually too preoccupied with my studies, with being an upstanding citizen. Now, I feel that it was all in vain – but maybe not. After all, Dumbledore still trusts me and is still willing to give me a chance at life. This matters more than anything right now.

But currently, there’s something else I absolutely must attend to. When I reach the designation, the door is bolted closed. Oh, how very like him. Alohamora won’t work, of course so I simply stand there until I feel I have made the right decision. Raising my hand, reluctantly, I give a soft knock. Eventually, the door creaks slowly open to reveal his pallid face, expressionless for the most part.
Several seconds pass as we stand there, in the threshold, regarding one another before he finally speaks.
“Were you seen?”

I answer him in a strong voice. “No, Snape. I wasn’t.”

He seems almost perturbed before opening his door wider to grant me admission. I sweep past him and into the dark, candlelit room, surprised that he hasn’t tossed an insult in my direction yet.

“You’re looking rather peaked. Sit.” He says as though addressing a student.

Ignoring him, I allow my senses to tell me what it is I need to know. He is brewing the wolfsbane as we speak. “How long, Snape?”

“As usual, Lupin, your eloquence has stunned me nearly to silence.” He isn’t even looking at me as he speaks. Git.

“Well, given your friendly demeanor at dinner, Snape, I only wanted to return the sentiment.”

“I don’t fraternize over food.”

I can’t help but to smirk. “Is that what you call it, Snape? Fraternize?”

Do I see a blush? “Perhaps you’d prefer to do without the Wolfsbane…”

Oh damn. I’ve offended him. “Forgive me, Snape…”

“I’m not obligated to brew this God awful concoction…”

“I apologize. I am humbly grateful for the potion.”

His dark eyes meet mine and his sneer is full on. He always seems so wounded.
“I warned Dumbledore against hiring you on.”

Ouch. That does hurt – even coming from Snape. “Oh.” Is all I can think to say.

“Yes, I created a scenario for him: you losing yourself and tearing apart a small group of innocent Gryffindors. Nearly brought a tear to his eye.”

My stomach lurches at the thought whilst adding to my own anxiety. I find I am unable to meet his eye.
“Wonderful bedtime story, Snape. You may have missed your calling.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He replies almost casually as I stand there feeling like less than nothing.

“Dumbledore trusts me.” I toss out, feebly.

Snape has an amused snort at my expense. “He pities you.”

True, I muse, but still… “And why should he trust you, Severus? You’re no different than I am in that respect.”
He grins, an evil gesture if I ever saw one. “How touching, Lupin, that you feel the need to belong. Well, don’t categorize me with your type. It’s insulting.”

Why does he make me feel like this? Why do I let him get to me? My stomach is already in knots and one seems to have wedged its way into my throat. I can do nothing but stand and watch him ladle it into a goblet. The dark potion is swirling in its container, lightly misting at its surface. I see myself mirrored in his eyes when he turns to me.

“You know the rules.”

I don’t bother replying, simply taking the wolfsbane and ambling towards the door.

“It must be taken immediately.”

“Yes,” I say in a weary voice. “I know, Snape. I know, trust me.”

“You need looking after.” He says, and I turn to regard him. “After all,” he continues in his deep condescending voice. “If you slip up, it’ll be up to me to correct it.”

For some reason, his words make me lose it, and its like I’m watching myself from some other place. I’m watching my hand tremble, my chest heave, my arm raise to toss the goblet against the nearest stone wall and I watch in horror/anger as the contents slide down gray brick, a thick, hot potion created to stop me hurting people. Kids.

Snape’s brow is furrowed, and in another instant his wand is out and pressed firmly against my temple. My back is against the wall. His black eyes are reflecting my defenselessness, but I can’t look away. I’d forgotten how easy it is to push his buttons…or maybe its just me….

“I could make you disappear, Lupin.” He says in his silky tone. “And I don’t think anyone would notice.”

A brief image of Sirius floats into my head while I smile graciously and pretend I’m not close to soiling myself. Since when has life mattered so much to me? I’m a Marauder, dammit!

“Severus, don’t…” My voice is close to a whisper. Yeah, it’s a plea, but I’m out of options. “…be sensible.”

His grin is terrible, but something akin to regret flashes behind his eyes and I know he has slipped past my defenses. Lowering my lids, I try to take away his advantage, but he’s already on to me. This is why I hate Occlumency.

“You thought of Black.”

God, I hadn’t wanted him to see those thoughts.
“That’s not really relevant, is it Severus?”

“You think he can save you? Has he slipped past the Dementors to come looking for you, Lupin? Is that it?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I shut my eyes and wait, incapable of fighting back - even with my wand just inside my waistcoat. How could Snape ever understand my current predicament? Would I ever be able to reason with this cold, closed-off, wizard?
“Just let it go.”

Snape is closer now, examining me. Even with my eyes closed, I feel his hard stare on my face, the tip of his wand making red the spot into which it digs.

“Is it true? You and Black? You’re companions?” he stresses the word.

With all my strength, I open my eyes and force Snape away from me, surprised at my own will and amused at the look on his face.

“Is it jealousy that makes you ask?”

“Why haven’t you armed yourself, wolf?”

“I won’t stoop to your level, Snape.”

“And if I were to curse you…”

“So be it…”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m not obligated.” My chest feels tight as I glare at his cauldron full of wolfsbane. “What will I need to do to get more wolfsbane?”

Snape snorts, a corner of his mouth curling upward. “Well, I know of a little place in muggle London, but...”

Fed up, I exhale, slowly. “Forget it, Snape. You’ve been a big help.” As I’m walking towards the exit, I hear his voice, clear and deep.

“Why conceal the truth?”
My hand stops on the handle and I don’t know whether to run away or stay. Merlin’s beard, I had hoped he wouldn’t know these thoughts.

“It’s my truth, Snape.”

“You want the wolfsbane…”

“Not at that price. I’d rather face the change.”

“You despise the change.”

“I despise the truth more.”

“Tell me about the memory.”

Turning to face him, I shrug. “It doesn’t concern you. Not really. Not anymore.”

“That is of no consequence.” I know exactly what he’s referring to and I’m not up to the challenge of dealing with it just now.

Finally meeting his eyes, I feel defeated. “Why don’t you just look for yourself, Snape? I’m sure you’re all too capable of finding what you want.”

“Perhaps, but I like to watch you squirm and suffer.”

I swallow again. “Goodnight, Severus. Its been a fun…”

“I should have guessed you were pining for me too.”

Whirling round to face him, my eyes are narrow, angry. “That isn’t what you saw.”

“It’s what I know.” His voice is satin, heavy and dark.

“What you know…”

“Black knows also, does he not?”

My voice becomes a whisper. “We said we would never speak of it.”

“Yes. But I’m finding that hearing it from your mouth, Lupin, simply titillates me to no end. You understand, I’m sure.”

“I understand what a bitter and sadistic wizard you are.”

“Say it, wolf. Say the words you know I need to hear.”

My eyes are burning. Merlin, why am I so weak? It’s as if I need him.
“I won’t do this, Severus.” My voice is so tiny I can barely hear it, and he is approaching me, hands folded neatly together in front of him as if we were discussing the weather at Hogsmeade.

“You needn’t delay.”

“What do you want me to say?”

His lips curl and his black eyes are pools of satisfaction. “Say you love me.”

How can I deny what is true?

Exhaling deeply, I trudge onward. “I don’t see what saying it will accomplish.” I am tired now, exhausted, emotionally drained. Surely he can see that, among other things. I almost welcome the full moon now. At least I won’t feel or remember.

“Poor downtrodden Lupin and your pathetic inability to face reality. Perhaps it would do us both some good.”

“Perhaps, Severus, If I thought you held even an ounce of respect…”

“For a man with impure blood? On the contrary, Lupin, I detest you and your kind. I simply take utmost pleasure in seeing you in discomfort.”

“You didn’t mind it so much before…” I whisper. “…Sadist.” I spit at him.

His grin is back, barely masking his own sudden discomfort and he has put distance between us. I feel like a fly he has captured and is torturing for pleasure. I wonder if this is what it might have been like had we still been children, still clambering through these very stone corridors, me caught without Marauder support. I wasn’t quite as powerful then as I am now. Still, though, he has me where he wants me. Leaving now would be an open admission. Yes, I do love him. I can’t say why, but his hate seems only to fuel my adoration. And yes, it has caused problems for me and Sirius, but that’s beside the point. I know nothing would ever happen between Snape and I. Not again, anyway…I merely seek to find the Snape within the Snape, the warm heart I sense stirring just beneath the ice, the Snape I almost knew once…Currently, though, I want nothing more than to flee, to escape his probing glare, the depthless black pools. I don’t need him seeing any more of my memories. Curses to that age-old method of Ligilimens and why didn’t I pay more attention when it was being taught to me? Because I was too busy trying to be loved.

In a steady voice, I speak to him now. “I’ll brew my own damned potion.”

“Best of luck with that.” He replies with much sarcasm, already turned away from me, already busying himself with the stack of parchment on his desk, and it is almost as if this entire encounter never took place.
I am walking slowly through the corridors toward Gryffindor tower, feeling spent, empty, alone. Why does he have to be that way? And I have no idea how to concoct a cauldron of wolfsbane, nor do I know of anyone - besides Snape – who could do it, and it was Dumbledore who has asked him to do it in the first place. Surely, I can’t go to the Headmaster and ask him. Then, I’ll be forced to explain what happened to the first dose.

Falling onto my bed, I shut my eyes, thereby shutting out the entire predicament. I still have time, afterall.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I never thought that teaching could be so rewarding. I had pushed it out of my head, the incident on the train involving Harry Potter and the Dementor. It only bothered me for a short time and then I had decided to store it away – like so many other intricate details about the boy.

Of course, the first day of classes, I am reminded of all that has come to pass. The boggart lesson seemed like a good one on paper. The children are rather well rounded, energetic, save for a handful of Slytherins, everything goes well – and Neville’s boggart very nearly causes me to lose my composure. I fight hard not to laugh out, seeing Snape adorned in old lady clothes. It gives me something to think of later. He’s a real devil, that one – even with the bright red handbag.

But then, there’s the matter of Harry. He comes across as brave, in an oblivious kind of way. His emerald eyes are so large and expressive, childlike even as he hovers on the edge of adulthood.
And I am standing idly by as he prepares to face that boggart, and I’m realizing what a dolt I am for letting it come to this. Should it turn into Lord Voldemort, what will the children do? Will they be irreparably damaged? And Harry looks to have turned as white as rice paper…
I am in front of him before I even realize it, and the boggart is becoming the moon in my eyes, and I wish I could make it go away, but I hesitate and hope no one picks up on that.

“Ridikkulus…” I hear myself utter and there are squeals of delight (fear?) as the children fill in the empty spaces with their chatter and comments, and I am prematurely ending class because I have no idea what has just happened – not technically.

Several hours later, I am alone again, staring out the window and not realizing I have drifted into a daydream until someone is behind me. It’s Snape with another Goblet.

“Your wolfsbane.” He says it as if he is completely perturbed, and I am so grateful I could kiss him.
Instead, though, I muster a slight smile.

“Thank you, Severus. Please, sit it there. On the desk. I do appreciate it.”

“Indeed.” He says in a dry voice, resting the goblet on the desk and turning to leave without speaking another word and it’s as if our last encounter never happened. I am wondering if he has sought council from Dumbledore or if he merely found it in his heart to come through for me. And then, I wonder, briefly, if he would poison me. Would he be capable? I am tempted to test that theory, but instead, I simply down it and begin to prepare myself for the next day’s assignment. Hopefully, the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw classes will go without incident.


Not a week later, I find myself outside, surrounded by the crisp, early fall air. I am bundled up and restless, feeling the change near. I find myself walking along the stone steps towards Hagrid’s hut and beyond, near the edge of the grassy green cliff, overlooking the lake. When I come to the long covered bridge, I think I might enjoy the view, but I am startled to see the boy, Harry Potter. Shouldn’t he be on the Hogsmead trip? It’s the weekend, right?

“Professor Lupin.” He calls to me, and I wave my hand in good nature.

“Hello, Harry.” I approach him and notice he seems to have been pondering. There are worry lines etched
on his young face. “I would have assumed you’d be out on field trip.”

He shrugs his shoulders, mouth taut on his face. “Forgive me, sir, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

Nodding, I agree to those terms. “Very well, then.”

We stand there, together, slipping into a comfortable silence, and then he speaks…
“Professor…can I ask you something…”

“You want to know why I stopped you facing that boggart…” I answer him quietly, amazed at how I knew of his concern. So I reassure him as best I can with what I hope are words of wisdom, a difficult feat coming from someone like me. And also, I can’t help but mentioning his parents and how very much like them he is. In my mind, I can clearly picture them, Lily and James, as if it were yesterday, and feel a pang of deep regret that the boy will never know them.

By the time evening comes, I have long since sent Harry back to the castle, and I am still outside, agitated, wandering the grounds. Unsettled, I start off towards the wood, the forbidden forest, thinking I might be one reason why it is off limits – especially tonight. The full moon fastly approaches, and fire seems to be coursing through my veins. I don’t know if it’s coincidence, but I seem to have picked up Sirius’ scent, so strong in my nostrils it nearly startles me. I hold still and glance behind me, wishing to see his face, needing his support during this torturous time.

“Padfoot!” I call out into the darkness, not recognizing my own voice with its twinge of mad fury. “Padfoot, I’m here!”
It’s no use. I am already losing my sense of self, the ripping of human muscle giving way to the inhuman wolf form. I’m giving myself over to it, to the call of the moon. I’ll prowl these grounds the entire night, in a weakened state, (due to Snape’s Wolfsbane) aching with bloodlust and howling for redemption, but at least I won’t remember…

Finally, morning comes hard like the worst curtain call one could ever hope to have, and I’m shivering and mostly naked, scarred, bleeding and a little unhinged. It’s still rather early, I’m coherent enough to note; classes won’t begin for at least another hour or so.
Damp soil and leaves press into my back, and my body aches too much to move yet. When I hear the rustling on the forest floor, I have the presence of mind to attempt to cover myself, but it’s a pointless move. My limbs are like jelly – and who knows where my wand got to. So much for defending myself.

“Insufferable wolf.” That voice is familiar all right – but perhaps with a bit less contempt than normal.

“S-Sever-s…” I attempt, before I am hoisted up into his impossibly strong grasp. It takes all my strength to hang onto him, and I feel myself slipping even while he carries me effortlessly. My head lolling to the side, I rest my face on his shoulder, eyes shielded from the light by my clenched lids…

How we manage to get to the castle undetected is a feat of raw wizardry, and I find myself resting on a cot, covered in several blankets and have that cool tingly feeling of a man who has been rubbed in alcohol. My vision is a bit blurry, but I know Snape is here in the room somewhere; I can smell him.
“Snape?” I murmur in a hoarse voice. “Snape, I…can you…I’m…”

“While you were out terrorizing the inhabitants of the forbidden forest,” he speaks in that silky, contemptuous voice. “Your little canine friend was terrorizing Hogwarts. You should feel pleased, Lupin. I surmise, it was just like old times, minus Potter and Pettigrew.”

“Sirius…” I manage, trying to adjust my vision. “...he was…here?”

“Don’t feign ignorance, Lupin, it doesn’t become you.”

I don’t know how to tell him that I’m not deceiving him. I’ve used what little energy I had just to get out the few words I did. Instead of arguing with him, I sink down into the makeshift bed and shut my eyes. I wasn’t wrong, then. Sirius was nearby. If only I could have spoken with him.

Mustering a bit more strength, I speak in a whisper. “Severus…my…class…”

“Yes, I did not forget the Headmaster’s terms.” He sounds almost formal. If it didn’t hurt to do so, I would laugh. “I will take on your classes for the next several days – or however long it’ll take until you find yourself…capable of teaching.”

He doesn’t even realize how fond I am of him, especially after this little rescue. I can’t imagine why I didn’t lock myself away in my private quarters, but I do know that it seemed the farther away I was from the castle, the better.

Almost two days later, I wake with a start to find Snape glaring down at me, steaming goblet in his outstretched hand.
“Drink, wolf.” His voice is like ice, and I smirk a bit as I test my recovering muscles.

“I don’t think I can…” I murmur. “…and by the way, your bedside manner leaves little to be desired.”

“Shall I have left you where I found you?” Snape muses in an impersonal drawl. “Hmm. I wonder what your chances might have been, a bloody, broken, defenseless wizard, without his wand…delicious thoughts, indeed…”

“Thank you.” I answer him, attempting to sit up and wincing as certain places ache worse than others. I realize, in this instant, that I am still naked beneath the blanket. Shifting my eyes, upward, I ward away the heat in my face.

He seems not to notice as I take from him the goblet. “What is it?”

“Madam Pomfrey’s healing elixir – to get you strong enough to at least return to Gryffindor tower.”

I taste it, grimace, and regard him again, searching his black orbs. “You don’t like me as your flat-mate, then?” I joke feebly.

He appears taken off guard, and I watch as he flushes softly before turning his back to me to go busy himself at his desk. I can’t help but to smile, and I let my hand come up to trace the long scar on my chest. Who knows what could have given me this – or even if I could have given it to myself. My mind drifts and I sink back down onto the comforter.

“Snape…thank you…”
He doesn’t reply, but I can smell his uncertainty like fear on the autumn wind. In another instant, my eyes have drifted shut and I am asleep.


Days later, I am walking the grounds with Harry and I am much better, though still rather tired. The students complained to me today about having been forced to do all sorts of written work for Snape, and I thought the werewolf essay was rich. Severus is quite possibly the most annoyingly mean wizard I’ve ever seen, but I still stubbornly hold onto the hope that there’s some good inside him - even while he seems to do just enough to get by. I make up in my mind to assign a vampire essay and see what Snape thinks of my playful humor. It’s likely no one will notice the irony.

Harry is insistent that I teach him more about the dementors, how to fight them off, etc. I am reluctant, I’ll admit, but I do decide to show him because it’s only right. He needs to know. In the meantime, however, I take my leave of him and seek refuge in my own private quarters. When I arrive, I find a strange owl perched on my desk, and I am unsure if it is a trap or if I’m just being paranoid. At any rate, I feel frozen to my spot, for several seconds.

“Hello, friend.” I murmur to the owl as I approach him, slowly.

It chirps contentedly as I reach for the tiny note tied to its leg. Unfolding it, I immediately recognize the scrawl as Sirius’. My head starts to swim as I read line after line of swears, accusations and threats, and I feel as if I’m dreaming. I should be afraid, but instead, I am saddened.
So, he thinks I murdered James and Lily or that I played a role in it? How unfortunate. I’d thought the same of him until recently, but it’d just seemed too improbable. After spending years in his company, after being closer to him than the others, it had just not seemed likely – but I couldn’t fathom who else could have been responsible…

Some nights later Severus visits me again. He is pale and out of sorts, dark brows furrowed in concentration. I feel fully recovered except for the fact that I am perpetually exhausted, rumpled, slightly weak. He continues to stand and glare at me until I smirk and invite him inside my rooms. Without speaking, he sweeps past me like a great bat, robes billowing around him, taking in the shabby, almost nonexistent décor.

“You wanted something, Severus?”

He turns to face me again and his black eyes are unreadable. “Dumbledore asked that I come. And check on you.”

I shift from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortable. “Alright. Is that standard procedure?”

The Potions Master looks put out. “I suppose it is, for those of us who may be harboring…criminal element.” I wince at him as he adds to the thought. “Has he contacted you?”

Shaking my head and lowering my eyes, I shrug. “No. I don’t see how he could.” Then I come to understand the nature of his visit. “Dumbledore didn’t send you. You came of your own accord.”

He raises his eyebrows as if to say, touché. Then he regards me.
“One can never be too sure of ones …compatriot.”

“Get out, Snape.”

His lips curl upward in satisfaction. “It has been said that there was a strange owl lurking near your window, a tiny parchment tied to its talon…”

I keep up the façade of ignorance while my heart begins to pound in my chest. “Interesting. Well, I’ll keep an eye out…”

“Your deception is as clear as crystal, Lupin…”

“Then why ask, Snape?”

“I would advise you to inform the Headmaster at once.”

“I will not.” I reply in a level voice even though I want nothing more than to use physical violence against him. Our glares are locked and I feel as if I might back down, but he turns from me.

“You’re working with him.”

“That’s a preposterous accusation, Severus.”

He sweeps around the room, hands moving slowly and expressively of their own accord. I find myself mesmerized by them and by how he seems completely shadowed in darkness. We’re in a deadlock because I haven’t actually admitted to anything he thinks he knows. When his black eyes meet mine again, they’re thoughtful.

“Could you be harboring him here?”

I hear myself snort a laugh. “Good one, Snape. Next you’ll be suggesting I’m hiding Voldemort.”

Snape’s eyes flash like daggers. “You only wish you were worthy.”

“Just as I suspected.” I come back, wondering how to take his words. “You admire him.”

“I admire his tenacity.” He replies softly. “Nothing more. I think I can almost smell that dog nearby, however.” He effortlessly brings the subject back. “ Sleeping under your bed, perhaps? Or knowing the two of you, beneath the quilt, waiting for you…”

“You’re a vicious, miserable, lonely wizard, Snape…”

“As I prefer it…”

“…Who has nothing better to do than to create these scenarios for your personal enjoyment…”

“Tell me, Lupin, does he remain in dog form while the two of you…”

Civility giving way to blind fury, I shove him hard against the wall and marvel in the slightly shocked expression on his face. My fingers are turning white as they clench his shoulders, a stark contrast against his dark robes.

“Snivellus.” I growl as I glare daggers at him.

His lips curl into a horrific grin. “He’s here; I can smell him. That acrid offensive dog smell – just like Gryffindor Tower.”

Feeling a strange mixture of emotions, I smirk and feel oddly dangerous. “If he were here, Snape, would I do this?”

Leaning forward, I crush my lips against his and feel satisfied as he shudders beneath me. He’s so much warmer than he looks – and softer. Just as I remember him to be. His face turns away from mine, abruptly so that my lips are against his cheek, but I notice he makes no move to push me away when I know that he damn well could if he wanted to.

“Snape,” I finally whisper against his face when we part. “Would I do that…?”

He doesn’t speak and I realize he’s trembling. My face is against his, my lips brushing his cheek, my hand on his chest, my other hand snaking its way into his black silky hair. It feels so much softer that it looks – and thicker, but then I always knew it was – have known for several years. My fingers are tangling in those ebony locks when he gets himself from out of my grasp. His eyes don’t meet mine, but his face is flushing, and I know I have struck a nerve.

“Severus…” I attempt to meet his eyes. “…Severus, I…I’m…”
Instead of replying, he pushes his way past me and into the corridor. I watch him go until I can no longer see him in the dark. It was foolish, yes. But I don’t regret it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


There is a period of a few days when I don’t see Snape at all and I know this is because he is avoiding me, which is fine. The two of us could use more space from each other, I’m sure. When I catch glimpses of him in the great hall, he pretends not to see me beyond the curtain of his hair, and I try to focus on my meal and on my own problems.
I’ve been increasingly disturbed about Sirius and the angry letter he sent. I keep wondering how Dumbledore would regard me if he knew I’d been in contact with him – and I keep wondering how Sirius knew I was even here, at Hogwarts. The entire thing has me baffled, but I try not to think of it, and I try not to think of Snape even though he dominates my thoughts.

So many years ago, back in school, in the early days of sitting in the Quidditch Pitch next to Sirius, watching James soar through the air like a great falcon, leading the Gryffindors to yet another win, there had been this weird tension and stress. Sirius had been hostile with me for days and treating me rather cold because of the letter he’d found in my satchel, written in a shaky cursive script, declaring my love and attraction for another student. It had been passionate yet hurried and a little manic, as if I had been afraid of being found out. The letter was addressed to Severus Snape, and Sirius nearly lost it when he snatched it from the bag. I was an idiot for allowing him to search there for an extra quill. I had imagined I had locked it away in my drawer – not stowed it in my bag. When he found it, his face had instantly drained of color, and I hadn’t known what to say to him besides ‘I’m sorry.’

Now, I suspect a lot of his hostility towards me has to do with the horrible way in which I broke his heart, but also, him suspecting I murdered our best friends can’t have a positive affect on our already strained relationship. The saddest part is that Snape hates me and no matter what I try or what I do, it won’t ever change.

It’s very late one night as I go wandering the corridors, for no other reason than restlessness. Sometimes, after my classes, I sleep so long in the afternoon and early evening that by the time midnight rolls around, I am wide awake. On this night, I turn a corridor and stumble upon a very intense scene, Snape and Harry Potter, glaring back and forth between one another, Snape’s wand tip lit and eyes all aglow. Harry looks so shaken that I inquire after him.

“Are you alright, Harry?”

When he tells me he’s fine, Snape snatches a parchment from his hand and shoves it in my face. My first instinct is to smile at the marauder’s map, but instead, I keep my face neutral – even indifferent. After all, I don’t want Snape having an excuse to use Ligilimens – in front of Harry, no less.

“It must be a Zonko’s.” I muse in a light voice as Snape tries to convince me its full of dark magic, and I make a face, pretending I know nothing. Finally, I tell Snape that I’ll take a closer look to make sure it’s safe before bidding him a cordial goodnight and escorting Harry back to my classroom.

When we get there, I hesitate before I address him in a firm voice, and I can tell my agitation shocks him.
“I don’t know how this map came to be in your possession, Harry…”

“But professor, I…”

“Quiet! This map in the hands of Sirius Black is a map to you.” I tell him, feeling more shaken than angry. “Now, I won’t cover for you again, do you understand?”

He nods, slowly and trudges away after I dismiss him, defeated, but then he stops and turns to glance at me.
“Professor? Just so you know, I don’t think that map always works…”

“Oh?” I regard him in the dark.

He then proceeds to tell me of having seen Peter Pettigrew on the map, and I swear I feel my heart stop and it takes every ounce of strength not to let it slip from my fingers. As he walks away, color drains from my face. Up til now, I had thought Peter dead. Now, I feel sure he has been in hiding here in the castle, in his animagus form…but why? My mind reels around and around on itself as I carefully avoid the one plausible reason, reluctant to make that kind of connection…Peter always admired James so much…it simply couldn’t be…but then…Sirius couldn’t possibly have…

Finally, exhausted, I head down to my quarters. I sit up in my bed, staring at the map for several hours, waiting to catch a glimpse of Peter’s footsteps, but I never do. Then, as the first rays of light make themselves known in the morning sky, I consider that maybe Harry didn’t actually see Peter on the map at all…but then why would he lie? Seeing Peter on the map is most likely what brought him out of bed…Like James, he’d have been curious…So yes, Peter was on the map. That much is certain. Pettigrew is definitely nearby because the map doesn’t lie.

And then suddenly, it comes to me just as the last ounce of consciousness gives way to sleep: Sirius is innocent. He escaped Azkaban - not to come after Harry but to come after the Potter’s killers. It was Peter. A shiver creeps up my spine. It makes so much sense that the hair on my arms stand on end. It’s exactly what he would do. Sirius is nothing if not loyal, and he loved James and Lily. Probably more than any of us.

Next afternoon, I wake late, feeling a strange mixture of groggy contentment and an almost overwhelming anxiety. Luckily, it’s a weekend and I have no classes. In the bathroom mirror, my face is ashen and my hair is standing on end, and I leap nearly out of my skin when I hear a loud crack coming from the other room. Going in with wand in hand, I see Dumbledore standing bent over my small wooden table, sampling my chocolate. I smile fondly and approach him, pocketing my wand.

“Headmaster…”

He turns to regard me. “Ahh…Professor Lupin.” He says around a mouthful of chocolate. “Forgive me for the intrusion…”

“Nevermind that, sir.” I gesture towards my couch. “Please, have a seat.”

“Excellent chocolate...” He muses before remembering I’m there. “Oh…well…yes, I won’t be long. I only wanted to see how you were feeling – and ask if you were up for a little adventure into the Forbidden Forest…”

My first instinct is to frown, but I keep my face neutral. The Forbidden forest isn’t exactly my favorite place, but for Dumbledore…
“I would be up for it, of course Headmaster, but what is the nature of…”

“You wouldn’t be going alone, of course. Professor Snape will be accompanying you.”

I feel myself tremble at mention of the name. He didn’t exactly seem pleased to see me last night in the corridor, and before that…

“What will we be doing there?” I ask, quietly and then I notice the flicker of worry behind his eyes.

“You have a point about this chocolate, Professor,” He says in a soft somber tone, “It really does drive away unpleasant feelings…”

“Sir?”

“There’s a girl missing…a first year Ravenclaw…she was last seen entering the forest…”

Any apprehension I had before suddenly drains away. “Say no more, Albus.” I tell him in a strong voice. “When do we leave?”

He smiles sadly before murmuring. “As soon as possible.”

In the space of about thirty minutes, I leave Dumbledore and meet Snape in the dungeons as we start out together through the forbidden forest. It is early evening, and the sun is just at half-mast and still rather bright. I am carrying only my wand and Snape is trudging ahead of me, silent and brooding. His brow is furrowed, and he moves through the forest as if he has been here hundreds of times. I just try and keep up with him and occasionally stumble a bit, but for the most part, we keep mere feet apart.

Eventually, the sun starts to go down and our eyes adjust accordingly. I know Snape has keen night vision, and my senses have adapted over the years to the dark. Also, I have picked up the scent of fear, and I know it’s coming from him.

Now, it is pitch black and cool. There is motion around us, and I shiver and keep up as Snape steps carefully forward. In my head, I am going through a series of spells and curses, something I can do quickly if I should end up alone because I can barely see Snape, rather than sense his presence.

“Severus.” I finally whisper. “Do you see anything?”

He continues ahead, not looking at me but continuing onward until he stops suddenly and turns to face me with pale ghostly features.

“Snape?”

“She is there…” He illuminates his wand and I see the lifeless form over near the tree, half buried in dead leaves, the peak of school uniform seen just enough to be recognizable as such. My stomach lurches as I consider she might be dead, and I scramble towards her, nearly stumbling over my own feet. I drop onto the ground beside her and brush off the natural debris, uncovering her ashen face, trying to ignore the long thin scratches there and feel desperately for her pulse, for any sign she might be alive. And then she takes a sharp intake of breath, eyes blinking open, large and brown and frightened. She is startled as she gasps and gapes up at me, trembling in my arms. “P-Professor Lupin?” Her child’s voice nearly brings me to tears, and I hoist her up into my arms.

“It’s all right.” I whisper into her hair. “I have you.”

Snape leads the way through the dark, never faltering as his strides continue at a steady pace, but soon, we are surrounded and don’t even realize it until we feel the chill as our breaths are being sucked from us…

I fall to my knees still holding tight to the girl even as life is leaving my body and I have a vague image of Snape somewhere in the foreground, summoning a Patronus. In addition to the great white light streaming through Snape’s wand and shielding us, there are the muttered spells and charms he uses to protect us from the other dark forces, which seem to be descending on us. I, too, have gotten to my feet and am cursing what demons have crept out towards us as Snape and I stumble backward, barely able to stand, making our way back out of the forest. Luckily, the girl seems to have fallen unconscious again, her small body a lifeless weight against my chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s much later as we stand outside of Madame Pomfrey’s medical ward. It’s late, and we have just delivered the girl there, having already met with Dumbledore. They have assured us she will be fine, and Dumbledore has told us how very sure he was that we would find her, that we were the only two wizards capable of such a task. And we left him, feeling spent and weary, to head to our own respective houses.

In the corridor, Snape stops and I stop with him, regarding him and the way he sags against the wall, as if holding on to it for support. I can see by his posture that he is slightly overwhelmed. Reaching into my sweater pocket, I hand the wrapped confection to him.

“Eat it, Snape. It helps.”
Why am I watching him like that – and what is he murmuring beneath those ebony locks? Something along the lines of, ‘I hate you, Godforsaken halfblood.’

His endearment makes me smile sadly – along with his reluctance to eat my chocolate. Definite sign of a spy. Unable to trust.

“Snape, that was impressive…what you did just then.”
I always knew Snape was an extraordinarily capable wizard, but to actually see him take so many dementors…I must admit, I am awestricken. Now, however, he slumps against worn brick, beads of sweat streaking delicately down his porcelain face. I wish there was something I could do, but he won’t take the damn chocolate.

“I underestimated you.” I tell him in a quiet voice. “I would’ve expected you to leave us to be overtaken.”

In a low voice, he replies, “I prefer that you think the worst.”

Forcing down the impulse to rest a hand on his shoulder, I regard him. “I was only joking, Snape. I don’t think the worst. On the contrary, I think rather highly of you. You know that.”

“Mm.” He murmurs noncommittally. “Don’t expect daisies and sunshine.”

My lips curl upward involuntarily. “Never from you, Snape.”

From beneath limp black hair, he glares at me with narrowed eyes, and the candlelights in the corridor flicker, making shadows on his pallid face. I meet Snape’s eyes and manage another sad smile. He’s the darkest good wizard I have ever come across – and he surprises me with his understated care for his students. For instance, his barely hidden concern for Harry Potter. He thinks no one knows, but I know. It’s etched all over his face, beneath the hostility and ill will, his adoration for the boy, his longing to see him succeed. I like to think the worst of him, but it’s difficult when I feel so strongly towards him…

When he turns to face me, full on, I catch sight of the thin red scratch on his other cheek.
“You were hurt.” I whisper.
He ignores me, then starts down the corridor towards the dungeons. Feeling idiotic, I follow him with uncertain legs.

When we reach the dark dwelling, he works as if I’m not there, and I watch him organize things, set caldrons aside, stack parchment paper, search his shelf for the right vial and pour a small amount of it into an already steaming caldron over a small flame. When he regards me, he seems surprised that I’m still here.

“Lupin, don’t you have…business to attend to elsewhere?”

Exhaling, I shrug. How can I convey to him that I don’t wish to leave, that I have no place else to go, that even though I am weary with exhaustion and still rather worried for the health of the young girl, I’d rather stay here and watch him work, that there’s something soothing about him. That I love him. That I need him.

“No. I have no business, Snape.” Coming closer, getting a whiff of his potion, I consider him. “What are you working on?”

He seems irritated. “That is none of your concern, and while I am enjoying this little… ‘social visit’, I must ask that you leave me.”

I shouldn’t feel hurt or shut out, but I do. Snape has a wall around himself that I feel foolish for thinking I could break down. Still, I am persistent. …

“Snape…ahh…perhaps I could help with your injury.” I reach towards him and he flinches.

“Fool!” He hisses. “How dare you touch me.”

“Forgive me…It’s just that…” I falter a bit, giving up. “…Snape, you need help. Let me look at you…” I come closer still. “…Let me …touch you.”

He looks utterly baffled as I stare back at him. “What did you say?”

“Its what you’ve been wanting to hear, right? Ever since our fourth year at Hogwarts, ever since we…”

“Don’t…” He says in a warning tone. “…don’t say it.”

My eyes lower, cheeks flushing. “You wanted it, Snape. We both wanted it so badly. We…we kissed…we touched…”

Snape puts more distance between us. “I was a fool.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Severus, you said so yourself. I was harboring feelings for you. You were right. I…I…”

“Get out.” He says, looking terribly frightening that I might not comply. “I said GET OUT!”

Ignoring him, I move closer, desperate for him now. “Snape, don’t deny me this…after all we’ve put each other through…”

I am close enough to grab him, and I do, backing him into a wall, hands caught in his robes, burying my face in his neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin, the hard thumping of his heart. He turns his face away and makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

“Lupin…”

“Don’t fight it…” I tell him. “…you want this…we both want this…”

My eyes catch his just before my mouth catches his mouth and I savor him and all his fears and doubts, marveling in the sweet taste of him, the soft sounds coming from him, like a sigh of surrender.

His lips barely move beneath mine, and when I pull back to look at him his eyes are averted. I rest my hands on his shoulders, feeling the strength in him, titillated by his power and the fact that he’s suppressing himself. No wonder Snape is always so hostile; he’s been bottled up for so long…

My hands move down his chest, dancing over layers and layers of thick black material, aching to feel his skin. I suddenly flash back to a time so long ago, Snape and me at fifteen, his lank black hair shielding his face and hiding the slight smile he’d returned to me as we sat passing secret glances between us on the Quidditch pitch. We’d been snogging passionately the day I realized Snape wanted me too, pressed against a wall down an empty corridor, his hands finding their way into my pale hair and me desperate to feel him beneath his black robes. We’d never gotten the chance because James had showed up, and I’d leaped away from Snape as if burned, hoping like Hell he hadn’t seen anything. Later, I explained that Snape was sharing potions notes, and James had bought it. Incidentally, he’d been too busy trying to catch that damned snitch. Still, I never forgot about Snape and I never forgot about our mutual attraction – even as Snape hardened over the years, became cold and bitter, I always remembered that Snape from the corridor, the one with the fast-beating heart and warm mouth. The one who’d said he loved me. Yes, I have always loved Sirius, but there’s something about Snape that draws me in, the challenge of breaking down his defenses, the theory that maybe, just maybe I’m the wizard needed to save him from himself…

My hands travel down his torso then back up again to start on the long row of buttons before me, slowly at first and then more desperately. Damn it, how many are there?! Resisting the urge to tear them off one by one, I control myself long enough to undo them all, even as the scent of Snape’s arousal floods my senses.

He watches with curiosity, as if unsure of my ability to get him naked. I periodically raise my eyes up to look at him, glad for the unspoken words between us, glad for the sound of his steady breathing, glad for the mask of vulnerability which fixes itself on his face as I remove his shirt and expose his hard broad chest. He’s beautiful and I take a moment to touch the hairless white skin, to trace it with my fingertips, to dance them across hard dark red nipples. He shudders beneath my touch and I smile at him, a little dismayed that he still won’t look at me. I feel as if I’m taking advantage of him when he behaves this way.

“Severus…” I whisper, turning his chin gently towards me. “…Severus, please, let yourself enjoy this. I want to make love to you. I want to be close to you. Drop down these godforsaken walls…they aren’t needed…I wouldn’t lie to you and I wouldn’t hurt you.”

He exhales and lets his eyes flutter shut, and I think he might be trying to take my advice, to let himself go. I watch in wonder as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and his eyes clench. My hand reaches up to caress his face, fingers sliding softly down the bridge of his abnormally large nose. And then I’m kissing him again, parting his mouth and licking his tongue, excited when I feel him moan into my mouth, sending shivers down my spine.

“Lupin…” He whispers when we part, and I smirk at him, shrugging out of my own shirt.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Severus…” When my shirt is off, I lean in again to press our torsos together, enjoying the understated sound he makes. “…but I have a first name.”

He doesn’t reply, of course, but Snape’s chest against mine is exquisite, and I reach around and tug his hips against mine, feeling his cock nudge mine through our slacks. Our faces are a mere inch or so apart, and our lips barely touch as I finally have eye contact with him, very close eye contact. I am grinding against him, uncaring of how it looks or what he’s thinking of it. Aside from the occasional sigh, he has chosen to remain silent throughout this, and I find that I don’t mind it at all. I like seeing him unsettled and somewhat off his guard. I also like that his hands come up to grip my biceps. The act makes me groan. And then his mouth is on mine again, and his lips are parted wide, tongue flowing into my mouth, and it is forceful and rough, and I feel my erection lengthening in my pants. I want his hands on me.

Clinging together, we move as one unit, to where his bed chambers are, him opening the door as I hold tight to him, blindly shuffling my feet in the direction he guides us. We get to the bed and he lays me down on my back, sliding up to rest beside me as I watch him. For a long while, I simply watch him and he watches me back, as if waiting for a green light.

Under his watchful gaze, I reach down and start to undo my pants, unzipping them and shimmying them down my hips, raising myself up a bit to get them off. As if on cue, he helps me, tugging them off along with my shoes and laying them beside the bed on the floor.

We’re silent, and I am afraid to speak, for fear of ruining this incredibly delicate moment. My cock is straining inside my shorts and Snape is reaching down slowly, to caress my legs, up my calf and along my thighs until he reaches my hips. His hands are nimble as he hooks fingers beneath the waistband and pulls them down, me assisting by raising my hips slightly. My chest is heaving now as he unabashedly stares at my erection, the pearl of pre-cum catching the candlelight just so, making it sparkle.
Without preamble, he bends his head and licks the tip of my cock as I gasp and shut my eyes, clutching the bed sheet.

“Severus…” I whisper as he licks, kisses, caresses, pays homage to the head of my prick. My eyes have rolled back in my head, and I am going insane. I need him to touch me, to take me into his mouth, to relieve me…but he won’t. Instead, he continues to tease me with his beautiful blessed tongue, swirling the head of my erection.

Finally, his mouth encompasses me, and I am sliding down his throat, resting my cock on the pad of his tongue while he sucks me down. With one hand, I caress his hair, pushing fingers through its silky black depths, marveling in the softness of it while he performs the fellatio of the Gods. My heart is beating so fast I feel like I might die. I am opening my eyes a sliver to watch while he moves his head up and down on me, ebony hair spilled across my belly as my pelvis writhes beneath his immobilizing hands on my hips.
When he hums against me, I toss back my head, feeling him tongue the tip, lapping the pre-cum before I start to feel that fire building up low in my belly.

I want to tell him I’m going to come, but somehow I think he knows.

“Severus…” I cry out. “…I’m…”

He sucks harder, reaching to push a finger inside me, and I gasp, glad for the intrusion. With his mouth on me and his finger probing my entrance, I feel electricity coursing through my veins, bringing me closer and closer to my release. Then, his free hand reaches up to tweak my nipple and I feel myself dropping off the precipice. The tingle seems to start in my cock as it spurts hard into his mouth, sending shock waves down to my toes then up to my chest and back down to my ass, flowing all through me and flowing into him.

I’m trembling, an arm draped over my eyes and one tangled in his hair as I raise my hips skyward and let the orgasm drain from my body, from my pores, from my soul…settling me.

Sliding me from between his lips, he rests his chin on my hipbone, watching me through that curtain of lank black hair, dark eyes inquisitive and slightly amused but shadowed with arousal. His lip is quirked upward, slightly.

“Remus.” He says, softly, trying out my name, and I smile wearily at him.

“You’ve broken me, Severus.” I respond in a quiet voice.

Without replying, he climbs up my body, and I wrap my arms around him as we kiss deeply, passionately, me tasting myself on his tongue. It feels too good, almost sinfully so…and then I push him away so that I may reach between us and unbutton his fly. His eyes dart as he flushes a strange shade of pink, and I put my hand inside his trousers to free his hard flesh, excited by the sight of it, the length of it, the heavy feel of it in my hands. Our eyes link again, and I am holding him between both palms, sliding them up and down the shaft, watching the light dance in his eyes as they glaze over.

And suddenly, he pushes me onto my stomach and rests his body against mine, not exactly on top of me but rather half on, half off of me, and I feel his velvet steel cock pushing against the right globe of my ass. My own prick has began to stir again and I need to feel him inside me.

“Snape…” I whisper. “…do it, Snape. Inside…inside me…”

His mouth is on my shoulder, black hair spilling over onto me as I reach back to pull him closer and soon, he is resting on my back. His arms are supporting his weight as his thick cock nestles itself between ass cheeks.

“Accio…” He murmurs in a hoarse voice, bringing the tiny vial of oil flying towards him to land in his palm. My eyes drift shut as he drizzles it over us, his fingers sliding inside me, lubricating me, bringing my erection to full mast again as I try not to hump into the mattress. Severus’ free hand is caressing my hip, across my ass, my lower back, and then he is over me, pushing inside me, and I cry out as he hits my sensitive spot straight away.

“Severus…” I moan as he thrusts deeply, his pelvis against my ass, gyrating against me. “…God…that feels…” I cry out again as he starts to move faster, roughly fucking me. He is planting open-mouthed kisses across my back, the place between my shoulder blades, taking little gentle nips with his sharp teeth as I tremble at the contact, whining as his large cock stretches me open and nudges my prostate time and time again.

“Lupin…” He groans behind me in that deep amazing voice as he rests his full weight on me, his hands finding mine and twining our fingers. He is so far inside me, I fear he might push right through me, and the friction is unbelievably hot. My eyes are burning from the perspiration, and I close them and focus on the rhythm he has set and how close it feels. I don’t know anymore where I begin and he ends; it’s so surreal, and he is literally digging into me as I gasp and try to push back against him.

“Severus…” I moan as I feel myself getting closer. “…Oh, God...Severus…more…more…so close…love you…Severus, I love you…so much…”

He pauses for just an instant, possibly rattled by my words, such easy words for me. Then, he picks up speed again, transferring all his frustration and angst into his lovemaking, grinding us both into the bed, forward and back, so far in and almost completely out and then in again, so so deep until I am crying out again and soiling the sheet beneath me. And soon after, I feel his warmth fill me up, his body shiver and him crumble above me and on top of me.

I can feel his heart beating through me, and I am so filled with emotion I clench my eyes shut and bury my face in the pillow, loving the exquisite weight of him above me, never wanting him to leave.
And then suddenly, he pulls out and turns me over, hovering over me. I can’t stand to look at him, so fearful of what may come. Given Snape’s past, he could so easily send me away, criticize me, file this encounter under the ‘meaningless fuck’ category.

Instead, though, he bends his head forward, face very close to mine and kisses the wetness from my eyes. His large hand comes up to brush pale gray hair from my forehead and he plants a gentle kiss there. I’m shivering, terrified this is a dream. I never imagined it could be so good with him, so intimate. I was always blinded by my love for him, willing to take the coarseness of him, willing to accept his mean nasty demeanor, willing to work with it, but this…this, I’m not prepared for.

When our eyes meet again, I reach up to kiss his mouth, smiling into it, letting his black hair enclose us.

“Are you…alright?” He inquires when we part, still above me, expression unreadable.

I nod at him, holding onto his arms, feeling the muscles work beneath my fingers. “Yes, Snape, I’m fine. Now.”

He nods, exhaling slowly, looking rather dismayed.

“What is it, Severus?” I inquire, a little worried.

He shakes his head, dismissive. “No…it’s…nothing. Just your lips… they taste …of cocoa…”

My face melts into a grin, then. The way he says it, so pained, makes me laugh. “Well, Snape, I’m terribly sorry…It’s just…I can’t get enough of it - chocolate, I mean.”

He nods, resting himself between my legs, a hand coming up to trace my mouth absently as I swallow and feel myself becoming aroused yet again. “How terribly nonsensical.” He says in a dry voice. “It will be your undoing.”

I smirk and wrap my legs around him. “I don’t see real need of worry, Severus – with you by my side…on top of me…inside me…” I whisper as he effortlessly joins my body again. My sigh is more like a whimper.

“An enlightened assessment.” He murmurs, shifting his weight a bit, making me wince in pleasure. “Indeed.” He adds before kissing me deeply.

And we ride the waves, slowly at first, building speed and intensity, rocking towards an uncertain destiny, me tasting of chocolate, and Snape wordlessly admitting he likes it.

END