Chapter Text
It started the way they always had.
Animosity and anger, with sharp words and bitter hatred. The two of them had circled each other in their school years, hardly daring to make eye contact, while his friends had been the worst of it all. He had not done well in all of it, to be fair – he had never stepped in or stopped them. He had laughed at their escapades and their pranks.
But Remus Lupin was older, now, and a much different man than he might once have been. If nothing else, he had to try.
“Snape,” he greeted, inclining his head as he entered his office. A note had been passed to him at dinner, a demand and an informing all at once. Severus Snape had not changed much, it seemed, since their school days. The man himself barely glanced up from the small cauldron in the corner, his eyes dark and focused on the contents.
Considering for a moment, Remus leaned against the wall. It seemed the safest option.
In the office of a potions master, one should be careful.
If there were active brewings, movement might disrupt them if he knocked into something. He did not know where a safe place to walk would be, if Snape had something delicate at work, or if he would be disrupting a concentration element. The scent of the potion he stood over set Remus’ nerves on edge, a flicker of anxiety at the corners of his mind, before the fog of steam calmed him again.
He knew what potion it was.
The Wolfsbane potion, meant to keep him sane during the transformation. The note had made mention of a solution to his problem, demanding he approach Snape’s office after dinner. The reason was clear, now – though he had not often had access to the potion, he knew what it was.
He allowed his eyes to wander the room, studying the décor quietly.
“It is ready.” Snape’s voice was arctic, his words cutting through the fog Remus had settled into. His hands, pale and unshaking, were steadfast and competent as he bottled up enough for Remus to take. A dose to keep him safe, to keep others safe from him. “Take it, keep your mind, wolf, and do be careful of the children.” His upper lip curled back, sneering. “You would not want to find yourself having eaten any of them.”
Despite the anger in his words, the clear taunt, Remus smiled. He took the bottle in both hands. “Thank you, Snape.”
“Rid me of your presence, Lupin, it is too much that I must see you every night leading to the moon.” Snape turned to his desk, pulling out his chair and sitting in it with a great show of ignoring him. A clear end to the conversation, a dismissal. Snape picked up a quill and endeavored to bury himself in something on his desk, his eyes pinned to the parchment laid out before him.
Two could play at that game.
“Have a good night, Severus,” Lupin turned on his heel, heading out the door with the potion bottle tucked safely into his pocket.
Behind him, he could hear a strangled noise of frustration.
X
At breakfast, a couple of days after the full moon, Remus dragged himself out of bed.
He had been on time for his classes, he had been present for the students, but he had been asking for meals delivered to his room in the mornings. The house elves had done so dutifully and wonderfully, but now he needed to resume his usual schedule, even if he still felt like he had been beaten. A part of his employment depended on keeping the secret. The parents of his students would likely never have agreed to his employment as a professor if they had known he was a werewolf.
He entered the Great Hall and moved to his seat at the table, facing down the early risers and the other teachers.
Professor McGonagall glanced at him, a spark of worry in her gaze, but Remus smiled for her and waved her off. She had already done so much for him, and he had returned to one of the few places that felt like home with her recommendation to Dumbledore. He did not need to trouble her even further.
Further down the table, Remus spotted movement, the dark flash of clothing – Severus was walking towards him.
No words were exchanged between them, but Severus simply upended a small potion bottle into Remus’ cup, huffed in exasperation, then turned and walked back to his seat. He could smell ginger, turmeric, Boswellia, and a half a dozen ingredients he could not put a name to at the moment. Picking up his cup, Remus gave a small sniff to try and identify it further, able to pick up white willow bark before his senses got overwhelmed. Drinking it slowly, he closed his eyes as the potion worked slowly through his body.
A pain remedy, one mixed especially for the pain that came post-transformation. Chronic and constant, leaving him sore and exhausted.
“He has been carrying that potion with him for two mornings straight,” McGonagall murmured, amusement in her voice. “This makes the third. I do believe you have frustrated our potions master, Remus.”
“Sorry, Professor McGonagall,” Remus couldn’t stop the automatic deference to her title, to her authority, bowing his head.
Stifling a laugh with her hand, she returned her attention to her plate, keeping her eyes on her table of students. There were three who walked in together who held her attention for a moment longer than the rest, and Remus followed her gaze.
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley.
Good students, good children, and somehow always finding themselves at the heart of every misery the school had known in their time attending. Two years running, now, Harry Potter had proven himself to be his parents’ son, brave and bold, according to the stories Remus had heard. Lily’s wit and sense of justice, her unending need to make sure things were set right. James’ sense of bravado, his inability to just walk away. The way he had always thrown himself in to make sure others would be safe.
Remus had seen some of it firsthand, on the train. He had heard many of the stories from the other professors.
The aroma of food dragged his thoughts to a halt, bringing with it the realization that he no longer ached. His body felt pain, still, distant and present, like a storm on the horizon, but it felt far away. He could function, and he would be okay. His muscles were warming up, his body relaxing. Letting out a slow breath, he glanced at Severus, who did not look back at him.
Picking up his utensils, Remus settled in to eat.
X
It worked like that in turn.
The potion every day before the full moon, delivered with acidic comments and a sneer. A pain-soothing potion the day after, when Remus could bear to pull himself from his bed. It reduced the number of days he needed someone to cover his class.
The two of them were pulled into closer contact.
X
And then –
Sirius Black. Spotted. Seen. Murderer, traitor, betrayer.
Remus locked himself in his room after hearing the news, his nails digging into his scalp so hard he would have thought he had started transforming and grown claws. The one remaining friend, and it had to be the one who had murdered them and destroyed everything. Who had ripped away what Remus had known of home and – and—
He gripped the back of a chair and held onto it until his hands stopped shaking. The hammering of his heart in his chest was perhaps a bad sign, as was the way his vision was blurring.
Something needed to happen, something needed to change, he needed to do something –
With a snarl, Remus threw the chair against the wall, watching as it burst into splinters. He still did not feel better, the urge to do something not satiated with the violent outburst, but it felt oddly better than doing nothing. Staring at the broken pieces, Remus curled his hands into fists.
“Mab i gastell-gi,” he muttered.
“...Excuse me?”
Turning, he stared at the open door, Severus’ hand still on the doorknob. Remus felt his shoulders hitch up, a flicker of shame in his gut as he shuffled in front of the mess he had made. “Now is perhaps not the time, Severus,” he did his best to smooth his expression out, to pull his mouth into a smile. No one ever reacted well when he was violent. He had made a living out of never being so in front of others, out of never being angry in front of them.
You were human until you were not.
“Having a little outburst, were we?” Severus’ eyebrow arched up, the look on his face unreadable.
“Breaking into others’ rooms, are we?” Remus shot back, clenching his jaw.
“I did knock,” dark eyes glanced at the remains of the chair. “I believe you may have been...Preoccupied.” he swept into the room, standing close to Remus in a way that seemed to speak of someone unbothered by what he had witnessed. “You were due to pick up a potion from me an hour ago,” Severus pulled the bottle from within his robes, holding it out quietly. “And I do not appreciate being kept waiting.”
“My apologies, Severus,” Remus took it from him, doing his best to keep his voice light, his mood soft. He needed to draw himself back down, make himself smaller – he could not be a threat. He could never be a threat. Other people were allowed to be angry and afraid and furious about what life had dealt them, but he could never say out loud what he felt. Not around others.
He had already shown too much.
“…Is this about Black?” Severus’ voice had changed, the tone of it taking on a different quality. He couldn’t identify what was different, exactly, but something was. “A danger to Potter, a traitor to his old friends,” he lifted his hand, pausing for a moment. “A dilemma, certainly. A danger outside the castle walls.”
Severus continued moving his hand, putting it on Remus’ arm.
The movement was awkward, the touch barely there before he removed it, and Severus stepped back. “Take your potion, Lupin.” He turned away, heading towards the door. Before he was completely gone, Severus stopped, turning again. “Reparo.”
The chair pulled itself back together, whole and unbroken once more.
X
Every night before the full moon, every day, he needed to see Severus.
The question burned in his mind – why had Severus not said anything? Why had he repaired the chair and walked away, silent on the matter?
Remus wandered into the dungeons, heading for Severus’ quarters. There would likely be no answer for him, not from the man himself. That was how he had always been. Quiet, distant, unwilling to speak to those he did not know well and unwilling to get to know new people without a connection to them already in place. When his friendship with Lily had imploded, Remus had noticed, Severus had stopped speaking to others outside of his House. She had been the one getting him to socialize.
Her intervention had been the reason Remus had heard Severus Snape’s laughter. It was in there somewhere, buried under years of sullen quiet and loss of interaction. Severus had laughed at a joke Lily had made, and Remus had been close enough to hear it.
He had held onto that sound for two decades, now.
With no explanation, his mind had simply memorized it and kept it, even through his darkest times.
One of his happiest…
Memories…
Oh.
Remus stopped in his tracks, staring into the distance. It had been so long since that day. He could, perhaps, be forgiven for believing otherwise. For believing it was anything other than what it was.
Had he fallen in love with Severus back then?
Was that what it was?
Why he had hated to see him hurt but been unable to stop following along – a piss poor excuse, but the only piece that made sense. The only times he had seen Severus after the friendship between him and Lily had fallen apart had been when James and Sirius had gone to torment him. The only times Severus had bothered to look at him were when Remus had stood by and done nothing.
There had been nothing right in his behavior, but at least an explanation made it make sense.
It was one that was a condemnation, as well.
He tried to think of himself as a good person, a good man, but when viewing those actions in that light – it was difficult to see them as the actions of a good man. He had been an idiot, going along with the bullying behavior of his friends because they had been his friends.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
James had straightened up because Lily had demanded better. She had demanded he be a better person, be less of an arse, and he had not wanted to disappoint her.
Remus wondered if this was what James had felt.
The same wanting to be better, the need to change or risk disappointing someone. Even if he never had a chance in the first place, he needed to change. Remus jolted, feeling more pieces fall into place in his mind as he studied his past self, scrutinizing every detail. Oh, he had truly been an idiot, hadn’t he?
Muttering darkly, Remus rubbed a hand down his face.
He needed to change. Needed to be a better man. There could still be jokes, lighthearted ones, but he needed to find some way to apologize. Some way to change the tone between them and make it better. Even if he never had a chance with him, Remus needed to be better.
Pausing again, Remus felt the air forced out of his lungs as he realized something: his behavior had exposed him to anyone who knew, but somehow he had not caught on.
While not a direct analogue, a wolf and a werewolf often shared similar mating and courting habits. They shared food with each other, soothed each other when stressed or angry, and circled each other when walking close. If and when at rest, they would sit near each other. He could pick out each habit in his behavior with Severus, or at least something familiar enough to appease the instincts he was certain were held at bay by the Wolfsbane potion.
At the table in the Great Hall, they sat near each other, separated only by those they would both consider an authority. The leaders of what one might consider Remus’ pack when it came to wizards and witches. The same could be said of staff meetings – somehow, he was always seated near Severus. If they were patrolling the castle together, he would meander the halls, a crisscrossing path behind and around Severus.
The sharing of food was taken care of in the brewing of the potion to keep Remus sane, and the snacks Remus brought him in return. Small boxes of treats bought in Hogsmeade, things he remembered Severus enjoying as a boy. It was the only thanks he could get the potions master to accept.
And the soothing was perhaps at once the easiest and hardest to track.
The day he had broken the chair in his office, feeling too angry to go on, too full of rage – but knowing if he expressed it, he would no longer be seen as human. Because that was what happened when you were not human. You did not have the luxury of anger, anymore. You were a danger to others if you so much as twitched wrong. Severus had quieted the rage by observing, identifying, and saying nothing more. He had allowed it and only repaired the damage Remus had done with no judgement.
Both of them had been participating in mating behaviors, unchecked. Remus wheezed, covering his mouth with both hands as he did. Severus had stepped into a ritual that Remus had always done his best to ignore.
And ignoring it had done nothing good.
Now everything was spilling, his heart in his hands, and a twenty-years-delayed understanding of what it wanted falling out into the open. Ignoring it had bottled it up, and now it was overflowing. A mess had been created by ignoring everything, and now he felt clueless. There were hurt feelings on both sides and too much damage done by both of them for the score to ever truly be settled – but he wanted to try again. He wanted it to be something close to reset and cleared so that he could try again. The board needed to be wiped.
The best way to handle something overflowing, his mother had always said, was to open it. The damage would happen, things would fall, but then you could begin to clean it up.
Remus stood up straight, brushing his cardigan off.
He could begin to clean this up.