Here we go, the final official chapter. I had hoped to finish the smutty LJ one before I finished posting but, er, a rather lovely girl got in the way. Somehow, writing about rudeness isn't quite as fun as actually enacting rudeness! I will post a 'chapter eight' when there (finally) is one, but rest assured that the story is finished and anything more will just be PWPy naughtiness. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The poem, by the way, is Achilles in Love by Stephen Dunn, an incredibly beautiful piece that moved me terribly and also made me think of Snape. It's eminently findable on the net and I urge you to read it.

That day, Snape wanted to visit Remus but something was stopping him. He thought he was embarrassed, perhaps, but was unable to think why. It seemed very difficult to think of looking Lupin in the eye after the night, and the morning.

Over dinner, the headmaster had twinkled irritatingly at him, and had asked after Lupin's welfare. Snape had mumbled something non-committal in response, but made up his mind that he would visit him.

He was surprised to find the hospital wing empty, and Madam Pomfrey sitting with her feet up eating Turkish Delight and reading a thick book by someone called Stephen King.

'Oh, hello Professor,' she said. 'Are you looking for Remus? He's in his rooms, I should think. He woke up around lunchtime, seemed a fair bit better than usual. I'm not sure what you did for him - maybe it was having those potions so quickly - but he was awfully cheerful so I let him go.'

She gave him a smile, warmer by far than her usual nod, and went back to Stephen. Dismissed, Snape wended his way back through the castle to knock once more on Lupin's door.

'Come in,' said a muffled voice, and Snape let himself in to see the werewolf, huddled in a nest of blankets. Music was playing softly and the fire was burning merrily.

'Oh, hello Severus,' said Remus, and greeted Snape with such a radiant smile that Snape almost looked behind him, to see if someone more welcome had come in.

'Lupin. Are you well?'

'Yes, thank you, very well indeed. Just the usual aches and pains, nothing much the matter with me at all.'

'Have you eaten?'

'A bit of toast, it was all I wanted.'

Lupin's face, always pale, seemed almost normal, and the flash of his eyes was something quite new.

'Please, sit down. Thank you so much for looking after me this morning - and thanks as well for keeping me company last night. Really - it was wonderful. Not just your company, but that you - it sounds a bit silly perhaps, when we all know what a skilful potioneer you are, that your wolfsbane works so well, but - to be kept company when I am - like that. It's not common, that people don't mind seeing me in that state.'

Snape coloured.

'I enjoy Tolkien,' he managed, and got another smile.

'Me too. It's nice sometimes, to escape into an entirely different world where things are so alien. Oh, where are my manners - can I get you a cup of tea?'

'Don't be absurd, Lupin. I will make the tea, if that is what you want.'

'That would be very welcome.'

After a few minutes, when they were both holding mugs, Remus said, 'Madam Pomfrey was surprised to see you here, this morning. And to be honest, I was surprised when you turned up last night. I had started to think that you didn't like coming up here.'

'I was concerned. I am aware to an extent of the physical toll the full moon takes on y- on werewolves. I suppose I also had some academic curiosity as to what a werewolf truly looks like. And then you wished me to remain.'

'Yes, I did. I do. So what did I look like?'

'More or less a common or garden wolf.'

'Not a disappointment, I hope.'

'Certainly an improvement on the last time I saw you at a full moon,' Snape said dryly, and noticed the anxious glance Lupin shot him. 'I believe those memories have been fully laid to rest.'

'I'm more glad than I can say,' Lupin said quietly.

They drank the rest of their tea in silence. Snape felt as though he had a thousand things to say that hovered on his tongue but that there were no words to tell them.

'I imagine I will see you tomorrow,' he said eventually as he got up to leave.

'Yes you will,' said Lupin. 'Goodnight, Severus.'

'Goodnight.'

When he got back to his own room, Snape immediately sat down to write a letter.

Dear X,

I cannot in all conscience allow you to continue writing to me without informing you of a development. The fact of the matter is that there is someone I know who - I cannot encourage your - I find myself embroiled - I have become concerned…

He laid down his quill and sighed at the crossings-out. It was so difficult to express what had happened to him, unless… What would it look like written down?

Dear X,

I cannot in all conscience allow you to continue writing to me without informing you of a development. I believe I am in love.

Of course, I cannot say whether it is with you or with another.

S Snape

It made him feel sick and hot and tremulous but it was right.

He sealed up the parchment and took it off to the Owlery. He found the little brown owl sleeping between two magnificent barn owls but on his approach it opened its eyes, hooted in recognition and shuffled forward to hold out an eager leg.

He watched it fly out of the tower until it disappeared into the blackness of the countryside night, still thrumming with nervous tension, but reminded himself that really he had given very little away and began the long descent to the dungeons.

Please forgive me for the delay in responding to you, Severus. I have not found it easy to reply to your letter. I have to congratulate , or perhaps commiserate, you on your acknowledgement, and I have also to thank you for your frankness.

I know I should end these letters. I feel I must tell you who I am. Perhaps now you will not dismiss me even if it is not me you believe yourself in love with (and I, like you, find it hard to believe myself loveable). But do you even want me to?

I cannot tell you how long it will take me to screw up the miserable scraps of my courage. Should I tell you my identity through a letter? Should I confess to your face? Oh Severus, this is so difficult, and it is made more difficult by the tiny glimmer of hope your last letter has ignited, no matter how I try to talk it away.

And after all, you may well have told your 'development' of your love, and it certainly was not me. I have said many times how brave you are, and I am sure you would not resort to anonymous words on paper.

Please forgive my dithering. I hope it is true when I tell you that I would have been much more forthright if only I did not feel for you what I do.

As ever, I love you.

Severus immediately picked up a quill and, politely asking the owl to wait and giving it a saucer of water and a fresh dead mouse from one of his supply jars, sat down to write.

Dear mysterious writer,

I am, as I am sure you are aware, not a patient man. However, I do forgive your dithering because I appreciate the reasons for your reticence.

I have not made my own confession. In truth, I have only just reached the inevitable conclusion.

I would like to know your identity, if only to congratulate you on your successful concealment of your identity.

S Snape

He fastened the letter to the owl's leg and then sat back to try to make sense of all that was happening. The way he found he now felt about Lupin - how could he have predicted that, or guarded against it? And now no doubt it was too late. He shook his head at his own folly; after all that he had said to Lupin, the choices he had made in his life, how could he ever be loved by such a man?

And yet…

He groped in his pocket once more for the list of candidates that he had read and reread so many times, his eyes moving straight to the bottom.

Likelies

-Remus Lupin. A capable writer no doubt. Uncertainty regarding history with Black - though seems truthful.
-Flitwick. Entirely bizarre, very unlikely, in no way appealing.
-Lucius. An old acquaintance, a "friend". Could perhaps write, but would not? Self obsessed, cold. Could not humble himself in such a way (a point in Lupin's favour).
-Male student. Present only for completeness. I am not noticeably popular with any student.

And that short list made his own faint hope redouble and it was impossible to quench it.

Snape was on tenterhooks the next few days. He had no way of knowing when or if his correspondent might reply or even make himself known face to face, and he jumped at the opening of doors and knocks at his classroom. He wanted to hate himself for hoping but found he could not. His own self-loathing seemed to be ebbing; his guilt and regrets remained as strong as ever but finally he recognised his actions for the past that they were and his engagement with the present had never been so strong.

Whenever he passed Lupin in the corridors, they made polite salutations, and when they sat next to each at meals they discussed subjects which Snape secretly thought of as safe. Lupin did not come to Snape's rooms, and Snape did not go to Lupin's.

Snape's evenings felt empty and, after setting his wards and spells to alert him of visitors to his office, he had taken to climbing the steps to the Owlery after the students' curfew. He found the little brown owl, always nesting in the same place between two haughty barn owls and he would stay a while in the dark looking at it and feeding it owl nuts. It would utter tired hoots for a while before taking to the skies and the hunt whilst he fingered the parchment and quill in his pocket. He wondered whether he could bring himself to send a letter, to his correspondent - or to Lupin.

One night, he had gone so far as to write a letter, much like the first anonymous one he had received. But the letter stayed in his pocket, charmed to be read only by Lupin and to remain untraceable.

In all his nights in the Owlery surrounded by sleepy birds he had never been disturbed, but after a couple of weeks, he was feeding the brown owl when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

He whirled around, hand on his wand, and watched the glow of a wand become brighter until it and its bearer appeared at the top of the staircase. He lowered his own wand but could not relax.

'Is someone there?' said Lupin, obviously dazzled by his light and unable to see into the shadows of the tower.

'It is Severus Snape,' said Snape, and stepped forward reluctantly into the light.

'Oh - Severus - what are you doing here?'

Lupin did not look displeased to see him, rather almost afraid.

'I could ask you the same question,' Snape told him, looking him in the eye.

'I, er, I like the owls.'

'Really Lupin.'

'I do! But also, I was - well, I was going to send a letter.'

'Don't let me stop you.'

Lupin took a step forward, stopped and swallowed hard, then with a twitch of his wand the light went out and left them in darkness. He seemed to sense rather than see Snape lift his own wand and said, 'No, hang on Severus, please. This is - it's easier - I'd rather you didn't see me.'

Snape stood in silence, in the dark. There was very little light, moon and stars hidden behind clouds, and he thought he could hear Lupin breathing rapidly over the pounding of his own heart.

'I was going to send this letter by owl, but since - since you're here, I may as well give it to you directly.'

Through the gloom Snape could just about make out the white of Lupin's face and the hand that came forward. He took the letter and put it into his pocket.

'I'm sorry this has been going on so long. I - well, it can't make you see me in a very good light.'

'I can't see you at all, Remus,' said Snape softly, and Lupin gave a choking sort of laugh.

'I just felt - well, I thought there was no getting to your weakness.'

'And to be invulnerable is to be alone,' Snape said heavily.

'Oh - you knew yourself in that poem!' Lupin's voice rose, then fell again. 'I was so sure that under your robes were layers of armour.'

'But now you know that someone came along.'

'Yes, and I hoped… but I felt sure that it could never…'

'Lupin, may I read your letter?'

'Yes, I'll just go back down and -'

'Please. Wait.'

Snape's hands were trembling, his palms damp. He retrieved his own note from his pocket, handed it to Lupin, unable to lift his head.

They turned away from each other, lit their wands, began to read.

Dear Severus,

I apologise again and again for my lack of bravery but I hope this may finally go some way to convincing you why I was sorted into Gryffindor when we started school.

It is long overdue, my telling you who I am, but I have found it somehow preferable to live with the faintest of hopes that you could reciprocate than the absolute certainty that you could not. Recently I have begun to think that maybe you do not despise me as you once did.

But you should know who it is who loves you. You know me very well, or at least for a very long time. I am a dark creature as well as a coward. I once almost killed you. You deserve to be loved by better than me but I cannot offer you anything but myself, and that I give freely.

You have no obligation to reply to this, of course, or to acknowledge me ever again, but I hope that our budding friendship can survive this revelation.

I love you,

Remus Lupin

. . . . .

Knowing you as I do, in some ways very well and in others not at all, I can only make an educated guess as to what you will do with this letter.

My prediction is that you'll read it with a wondering smile on your face. I think you might keep it, and reread it later. You seem the type to not wilfully destroy the written word, even if you dismiss it as the fevered ramblings of an unbalanced mind. I can assure you that my mind is not unbalanced, though. It's probably working better than it has for quite some years - or ever.

I can imagine your face as you're reading this, thinking what is the point? Very well, I will stop prevaricating before you feel compelled to give up reading.

I'm writing because I'm too much of a coward to tell you to your face that I love you.

They finished reading, turned back to each other. Snape could see Lupin's lips part with a silent gasp, but his eyes were hidden as he stared down at the letter in his hand.

Snape walked over to him.

'Remus,' he said softly.

'Severus,' Lupin replied, and looked up into Snape's dark eyes with his own brown ones that brimmed with tears.

He reached out a shaking hand, brushed away a tear that had begun to wend its way down Lupin's scarred face, and it somehow released the tension that quivered between them.

'Don't know why I'm crying,' Lupin told him with a brilliant smile.

'Have you changed your mind?'

Lupin laughed at that.

'Have you?'

And suddenly there was no distance between them at all, not any more, Lupin's mouth devoured his with a hunger that shocked and elated him and a tenderness that made him tremble.

He had no idea how long it lasted or how it happened that his body had softened and his hands were tangled in Lupin's greying hair. With Lupin's arms around him, anchoring him to the moment all he knew was that he had never felt so alive, so exposed, so open to the world.