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Severus stared in dismay at the tableau before him. A group ragged looking humans sat around a makeshift table in the clearing, gnawing on what smelled like roast chicken and knocking back huge tankards of ale. The raucous laughter, guffawing in some cases, and the obvious camaraderie amongst the group was telling. He turned on his heel and pinned Remus with a bitter stare.
"You. Did. Not...", Severus sputtered.
Remus, quick to diffuse his furious mate, grabbed Severus by the arm and grinned widely. "There's Alsatian meade, the one that's aged in..."
Severus knocked Remus' hand away and drew his wand, which served to quiet his werewolf quite effectively.
"Oh, certainly, the promise of meade is surely recompense beyond my wildest imaginings." Severus pressed his wand into Remus' sternum, then twisted his wrist. "Wouldn't you like to have a romantic dinner in the country, you said. We never have time alone anymore, you said."
Remus felt beads of sweat trickling down his back, but hesitated to make a move. The itching was intensified merely because he dare not brandish his wand about until Severus had calmed down.
Severus eased the wand pressure until it barely touched Remus' jumper. The old wool retained the impression of the wand tip, one of several such impressions, Remus wryly mused.
Severus turned and grimaced at the antics of the three young children who were stacking logs for the requisite bonfire to be lit later that evening, just after the moon rise (if he remembered correctly).
"You may stay for the frivolity, but I shall return home immediately." As Severus made to leave, he heard a sigh from Remus. Too many times they had argued about this event. Severus never begrudged Remus time with his pack, even encouraged it for the sake of Remus' well-being. This, this deception was unusual, for Remus and he decided at the beginning of their affair that lies and deceit would not be tolerated in the least, and that trust had not been violated, until now.
"No, I will NOT give in to his petulance", Severus mumbled as he strode to the apparition point.
The Annual Werewolf Jamboree and Bake-Off was the highlight of the Caledonian Association of Lunar-Challenged Beings social year, and according to Miss Granger, who had attended the first such event, quite harmless if one used the Protego Supero spell in the company of the transformed werewolf. Still, knowing how hard a time Severus had working out his fear of a transformed Lupin, how the daft bugger could expect him to willingly be in the direct company of this pack, on a full moon, was incomprehensible.
Remus, well aware of the rift he had caused between them, sat down on the hard ground, well away from his pack. Yes, he had lied to Severus, expecting that, by some remotely slight chance, his prickly mate would acquiesce to his wishes, and just this once, attend the feast, if not the bonfire. It was so unfair that the wizard he loved would not interact socially with a group of people that Remus considered family. They both knew that there was absolutely no danger in attending that post-moon rise festivities if one used Hermione's clever protection spell.
Severus prepared to Apparate, then gave in and took one more look at the ragged group. In truth, they all took Wolfsbane, as he personally dispensed it to this particular pack. The children, in particular, were a bit less raucous than he expected. Severus watched as the trio of youngsters carefully built the pyre. The adults were gathered around the table, still gnawing on their chicken and swilling ale. Some surreptitious glances in Remus' direction were given, but since Severus had not yet departed, no one made a move to drag the sulking man to the feast.
"Fool!", Severus said, although he knew they both had earned that title. He purposefully kept out of the pack business, and Remus never visited Severus in the Headmaster's office. A stray comment or observation was the limit to any interference in each other's career, and that policy had served them both well. Or maybe, as they became more intimate, the separation of their respective duties from the life they shared might just be driving them slowly apart.
Severus watched as Remus rose and dusted crumbled leaves from his shapely backside. Maybe it was the pull of the moon, or the desire to make Remus happy, but whatever the cause, Severus shook his head and slowly walked back to the clearing. Remus tensed as Severus approached. Waiting for the second round of recrimination to commence, Remus flinched as Severus bumped his shoulder, but the spindly fingers caught his own, and Severus pulled him towards the revelers.
"Alsatian meade, you say?", Severus prompted, as they approached the table.
Remus lifted his chin and nodded.
"Well, I suppose that I can suffer through a mouthful or two, if only to further my research," Severus grudgingly offered.
Remus tightened his grasp on Severus' hand as he called out greetings to the assembled group. He hoped that Severus would not be too put off by the spiced mulberry and tuna sponge cake that old Letitia had made especially for the occasion. How the daft woman came up with her "special" cakes was a mystery for the ages.
Remus whispered into Severus' ear, "You don't have to stay for the bonfire."
Severus poured out a half-glass of meade , sniffed it with a dubious look and said, "We'll see."