Oh you guys. I found this in a six year-old high school notebook of mine, and have decided to upload it, for better or worse. It is not, for lack of a better phrase, a slash fic.

Severus Snape remembers his victory.

DEFEAT

Severus Snape versus James Potter was a common phrase that echoed through the walls of Hogwarts. It was usually followed by barks of laughter and jeers and inter-house bets being placed. Severus Snape versus Sirius Black was a phrase that followed weeks later, signaling at least one new addition to the infirmary, the mauling and mortification of various passerby, and a blurred sense of indignation on the part of all houses.

Severus Snape versus Remus Lupin was never mentioned.

Perhaps this was why, to one young Severus Snape, Remus Lupin presented himself as the most formidable opponent. He turned his head when asked to wager on fights, he never issued any sort of verbal challenge and was deemed "quite pleasant" by students and staff alike, and never came into any sort of physical contact with anyone. In Snape's mind, the conclusion was clear: since Lupin had never taken action, Lupin had technically never lost.

This struck Snape as infinitely more infuriating than any hex that Potter could cast or any punch that Black could throw. After his weekly run-ins with the Gryffindor boys, it was not Potter, Black, or even the pathetic Pettigrew over whom Snape seethed. It was that calm face, that distant body language, that air of knowledge that suggested limitless indifference and unbreakable self-control. It was an invincibility of the spirit that Snape both hated and wanted for himself: a face that would be superior as long as it was serene.

Snape would dwell on these thoughts until he saw Lupin's face in his bed-curtains, and only then would he turn his face to his pillow for sleep.

It became a nightly ritual, to obsess over obtaining any small victory against such an opponent. Potter could be cornered and cursed into wandlessness. Black could eventually be outsmarted. Pettigrew was as distractible and weak as any Pettigrew had ever been. So what made Remus Lupin vulnerable? Certainly not the gangly teenager that never managed to straighten his clothes to Malfoy perfection. Certainly not the greasy child that lost to house rivalry year after year and never got top marks. Certainly not Sever Snape.

And yet, there he was, seemingly short months later, at the end of a very long and rounded hallway, too eager to be scared. And just as he was about to attribute his burst of hope to stupidity at believing the words of a Black family member, the screams began.

Remus Lupin transformed.

Much thrashing of limbs, the rolling of the eyes, the feverish howls followed Snape's realization that Black hadn't been exaggerating. Begging came next: a stream of "please please please Sirius don't let it happen please gnnnnaaaauuugh please get out get out" punctuated only with tremors too overwhelming to be resisted rolled through every muscle in Lupin's body. Snape did not know how long he stared. Perhaps the degradation lasted minutes, perhaps an hour. He stared until his hands stopped shaking, he started until his ears started buzzing, he stared until he heard himself start to laugh. Even as the wolf lunged closer and closer, Snape did not rush to savor his victory, nor did he do so quietly. Lupin had lost, and to an inner battle, no less. Remus Lupin was not invincible.

Remus Lupin was defeated.

A hand clutched at the back of his robe, and he was being pulled out and away, and decades down the road, as he remembered the tunnel getting more distant, he would have to truthfully admit then that he had never laughed harder in his entire life. Shrieking with mirth, he stumbled and twisted in Potter's grasp as they made their way back to the castle. Even as the Headmaster was called in, even as Potter grew ever paler, Snape would not cease his laughter. It was intoxicating to know that he had learned the truth, a truth he could build his future on:

Good could be defeated.