Title: Fortune's Might

Pairing: SS/RL

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, I hope you're still following. The story progresses slowly, but never fear, the next to chapters will bring some progress. We're starting to get somewhere.

Lesson Eleven: Amity

Something had changed, something that made Severus take an active part in this whole business with Lupin. It was not that Severus suddenly felt more confident, or surer that this relationship would unfold to his advantage. In fact, ever since Lupin's visit to his laboratory, he had not feel anything much but tempting curiosity. Whenever Severus saw the werewolf in conversation with another teacher, he felt sure that, whatever it was they were talking about, it was neither as stimulating nor as interesting to Lupin as whatever Severus had to say. Suddenly, Severus seemed to be the one who was closer to Lupin than anyone else, suddenly it wasn't him anymore who sat and watched something he did not understand or belong to. He was the one who understood, he was the one who could pull Lupin away from any conversation with a mere glance and make him talk to him instead. It was a gratifying feeling and he had spent most of the morning enjoying it. Sometimes he thought that Lupin noticed, which he probably did, but the werewolf made no remark and seemed to be pleased with Severus's attention. Not that Severus showed his attention overtly, but Lupin saw it.

On the other hand, Lupin seemed to have decided that it was now Severus's turn to do something to contribute to their – whatever it was between them. Lupin appeared to be a tease on top of everything, he only communicated with looks, never did he try to say anything about it, though, and Severus thought he was tempting him on purpose. The trace of Lupin's sweet scent that was left in the air wherever he lingered for a few moments was very alluring, too. And Severus caught himself wondering if there was a plan behind that as well. Whether or not Lupin was indeed twisting him around his finger again was unimportant, for the plan, if there was one, definitely worked. This was just as effective as Lupin's stubborn resolution and unwavering calm had been in his first weeks as a teacher at Hogwarts.

Today, Severus had decided, he was going to pay him a visit. It had taken him some time to reach that decision, walking back and forth in his rooms. But in the end, it had been clear to him that this was what he had to do, what he wanted to do. Severus was growing increasingly impatient. It was lunchtime now, and Severus was on his way to Hogsmeade, while everybody else was in the Great Hall. He had no desire to be seen doing what he was about to do and be forced to answer uncomfortable questions. It was uncomfortable enough to pass the Dementors, which he did at a slight run, shutting out their influence as he hurried downhill and along the path that led to the village. Though the streets were rather less frequented than they would have been at the weekend, Severus attracted many eyes as he walked along the High Street. He tried to appear as though he was there for no particular reason, simply happening to be ambling through the village. Not that anybody would believe it if he told them what he was here for.

Stopping outside Hogsmeade's best tea shop, Severus looked left and right to make sure nobody had followed him – an old habit – and entered. Passing by the aisle with black teas because he was sure that Lupin would not like those, Severus turned into an aisle with milder brands and stopped in front of a large shelf, looking up and down, reading the labels on the countless little drawers, undecided which brand he should buy. Severus would always buy some fancy tea for Albus because the more colourful and unusual it was, the more excited the Headmaster would be to drink it. But Lupin seemed like he was a little more serious about tea at least. And Severus did not want him to interpret anything into the tea … don't be ridiculous, Snape!

"Ah, Professor Snape!" said a croaking voice behind him and he turned to find Mr Leaf, the shop keeper, a little old man with grizzly grey hair, tiny eyes, and a monocle, standing beside him with a wide smile, rubbing his hands as if he expected Severus to spend a fortune on tea today. "I haven't seen you in a while. Can I help you in any way?"

Severus turned to the shelf again and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes," he said slowly, deciding that he would never be able to choose the best one among the many brands.

"Not your usual tea, then? Do you wish to try something new?" the shop keeper asked and stepped closer to the shelf, peering up at Severus.

"It is a …" Severus hesitated before continuing, "a gift. I am going to visit someone and I don't want to arrive empty-handed." He pulled out a little drawer and looked at it but put it back again. Mr Leaf nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, then, do you know your friend's preferences?" he asked and Severus scowled at him at the word "friend". Lupin's preferences? If he knew those it would make everything easier, not only the choice of tea.

"Well, we have not been … friends … for very long, so I can only guess at his preferences," he said, remembering the taste of the teabags and the werewolf's longing for sugar. "He likes his tea sweet and mild, I think." Severus thought about Lupin's cup always being half full when his own was already empty and he was about to leave. But maybe that was just so he did not need to buy new tea too soon. "Gold doesn't play a role, I want good quality, something special," he added, thinking of the dusty tin of teabags.

"I see, I have just the thing …" said Mr Leaf and with a swish of his wand he opened a drawer at the top of the shelf and it soared into Severus's hands. "White tea, the mildest of teas with a light and sweet flavour. Of the finest quality of course! And certainly the right tea to bring as a special gift."

Severus looked into the drawer at the whitish leaves and found it a perfect choice. "I'll take it," he said, "and some Darjeeling for myself."

Mr Leaf grinned happily, rubbing his hands once again (the man could really try and hide his greed for profit), waving his wand to summon the Darjeeling and make the drawers hover after him into the backroom. "Just a moment, please," he called and Severus made his way to the counter at the entrance. When the old man came back with two golden tins, putting them in a bag and taking the gold from Severus, he told him that he had put a card with instructions for the tea's preparation into each tin, wishing him "a nice day, Professor" when Severus exited the shop.

Severus glanced into the bag. The first step had been taken, now he only had to walk up the stairs to Lupin's office in the evening, knock on his door, and give him the tea. That would start a conversation, no doubt. No reason to get nervous about it. It was just a normal meeting for a cup of tea. One like those he'd had with Albus a million times before. Only that this time he was bringing a gift, and the person he was going to have tea with wasn't his old, white-bearded, eye-twinkling, annoying boss. It was Remus Lupin, handsome and tempting. And many other things. Admittedly, Lupin, too, had twinkling eyes. But they were golden and their gaze was easier to bear. In fact it was desirable. And just when Severus thought that Lupin would see through him and interpret Merlin knew what into that tea, he remembered the twitching smile and the penetrating look and the vulnerable feeling they both incited in him.

Lost in thought, trying to chase away the light feeling in his stomach, he ran straight into Minerva McGonagall, almost knocking her over. "Severus!" she cried, straightening her hat. He slipped the tea into his robes and nodded at her with a look that he knew she would recognise as apologetic. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping ingredients," he said curtly. And cursed her for not attending lunch with everybody else. He could have sworn that he had seen her enter the Great Hall.

"Ah, I see," she muttered, sizing him up. "Well, then I'll see you in the castle." She turned and walked away into the direction of Honeydukes.

While Severus was walking back up the street towards the castle, lost in thought, he passed the Dementors again, which were standing guard either side of the wrought-iron gates which led into the grounds. He hated passing them. It was pure torture. He felt dreadful every time he got too close to them, even more dreadful than he usually felt. Full of guilt, disappointment, bitterness, fear, and despair, he had to force himself to keep going, step by step. What was it really worth, this miserable, lonely life of his? Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, Snape, he thought, squinting up at the castle, as the sunlight that was reflected by Lupin's window up in one of the towers blinded him momentarily.

When he finally left the Dementors' coldness behind, staring up at that window, he was almost sure that he had seen the gleam of Lupin's golden eyes behind the glass. And indeed, a moment later the werewolf threw open the window and leaned forward on the windowsill, holding his face into the fresh air. Severus quickened his step but Lupin caught sight of him before he could reach the front doors. Lupin waved at him, once, nonchalantly, and Severus embarrassed himself by stumbling up the stone steps because his eyes were fixed on the werewolf's brown hair, gleaming in the sunlight. He did not return the wave.

Severus was so preoccupied that he didn't pay much attention to the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fifth-years in their double-Potions class that afternoon which was probably the reason why one of their cauldrons melted, burning a black hole into one of the tables in the third row. Severus took twenty points from Gryffindor quite gleefully and was in rather a good mood when he ascended to dinner. He was hoping for a quick word with Lupin to ask him if he could spare some time that evening but the werewolf was not at dinner – his absences seemed to be becoming a bad habit and Severus wondered if Lupin had difficulty handling his workload. But on the other hand, he thought he might just have backed out again if he had met Lupin, and he would like to see the look of – hopefully pleasant – surprise on Lupin's face when he simply appeared on his doorstep unannounced.

After dinner, Severus made his way upstairs to Lupin's office, clutching the round tin full of tea in his pocket. He felt his neck growing warmer with every step and cursed himself for being such a fool, fussing like that. But he could not help wondering how Lupin would react, if he would accept the tea, proud as he was. He might think that it was pity. Ah, but he knew Severus too well to think that he had pity for anyone. Once Severus had reached the office, he looked around to make sure the corridor was deserted and knocked three times as usual. Feeling his heart stopping with silly nervousness, he held his breath in unfounded apprehension.

"Come in, Severus," called Lupin from inside and Severus was taken aback for a moment. Had Lupin been expecting him or could he see through doors?

Severus opened the door to the sight of the werewolf carrying a few boxes in his arms, smiling brightly, a faint flush on his cheeks. Severus stepped over the threshold, closing the door, and scowled at the werewolf. The Kappa had gone from its corner. "How did you know it was me?" asked Severus suspiciously.

Lupin raised his eyebrows at him and put down the boxes on one of the shelves that were lining the walls. "I heard you walk along the corridor," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Or rather, I heard you stride. A very loud way of walking, striding. And you have a very particular way of striding, I recognise you by the frequency and the vigour of your steps. There's a determination in your stride and there's a stride in your walk, even when you slow your step. Do you know what I mean? Surely there are people you recognise by merely hearing them walk? If you want to come here undetected you must creep, not stride."

Lupin paused and considered Severus with an absent smile. Severus thought that somehow Lupin had said something very intimate. He did not quite know why, but what Lupin had said about recognising him by his stride gave Severus the feeling that they were close. Closer than just a minute ago. He looked into Lupin's amber eyes and wondered if he would recognise Lupin by his walk without knowing it was him.

"Kind of you to visit me," said Lupin after a few moments. "I've missed dinner again, haven't I? So much work to get done ... I really need to get used to having a full timetable." He laughed softly.

Severus hesitated for a moment, still caught in that slightly embarrassing feeling of familiarity that had washed over him just a moment ago. Then he cleared his throat and pulled the tea out of his pocket. Lupin's amber eyes wandered slowly to the tin in Severus's hand and his eyebrows elevated as the corners of his mouth twitched. After another moment of hesitation, Severus held out the tin to Lupin, whose hand positively sprang into the air to take it as though he had only waited for a sign to tell him that it was indeed for him.

"I thought you might have use for this," said Severus and felt foolish despite everything as Lupin's smile widened in apparent delight. It suited him well.

"Thank you so much, Severus, that wouldn't have been necessary," said the werewolf happily, turning the tin in his hands, and he took off the lid to sniff the contents.

"I know," Severus said and bit his tongue. But Lupin just chuckled, obviously recognising the true meaning of those words.

"From Leaf's Leaves?" asked Lupin, taking the card out of the tin. Severus nodded and smirked inwardly as Lupin's eyes grew rather round. "But, Severus, that must have cost you a fortune. You shouldn't have –"

But Severus waved his hand as though to wipe the matter away. "Not at all," he said stiffly. "Though it would be only decent of you to invite me to a cup now, to test the quality. Of course I know that decency isn't exactly a Gryffindor strength ..."

"Let's try it, then, shall we?" said Lupin pleasantly, smiling warmly at Severus as he opened the door to his rooms. Severus's stomach gave a pleasant jolt as he was invited into Lupin's private space. It was intimate somehow.

Lupin indicated the sofa to Severus, which seemed to be what he thought was respectful, as his only private possession among the furniture, the armchair, was rather shabby. So Severus sat down, crossing his legs, and glanced around. The walls were still naked but for the Gryffindor flag and the books and the only other possession of importance was still the Lunascope. And perhaps one had to count the cage of the Redcap and its little inmate, which appeared to be asleep, and the Kappa in its tank, which was equally lazy. Lupin seemed to be spending most of his time in his office. Severus had a feeling that Lupin did not want to make himself too much at home. The werewolf produced two cups and a kettle out of thin air and took the card with instructions to read it carefully.

"I have never had the privilege to drink white tea," he said cheerfully and tapped the kettle with his wand, making it whistle. "Never any gold to spare …" He smiled as he ladled tea into the pot with a spoon. Severus felt both uncomfortable and pleased. It was good that Lupin was grateful and satisfied, but Severus thought he had also made him feel – inadvertently so – that he was poor and Severus was rich. He had not meant to humiliate Lupin. Not today. He had meant to give him something to enjoy. Not to make the distance between them seem greater.

Handing Severus a steaming cup, Lupin sat down opposite him in the threadbare armchair. Severus found that Lupin had put a piece of chocolate on each on their saucers, probably because of the Dementors, but he didn't touch it for now. They took a sip of tea at the same time and Severus stole a surreptitious glance at Lupin over the rim of his cup, tasting the mild tea, maybe a little too mild for his taste but apparently just right for Lupin, judging by the closed eyes and the smile on his lips that told of enjoyment. Lupin leant back in his armchair, a relaxed expression on his face, his cheeks still slightly flushed, and heaved a hoarse sigh, sending a pleasant shiver through Severus's body.

"I have never drunk such good tea before," he said and rolled the cup between his hands as he gave Severus a look of too pronounced gratitude.

"It is worth it's gold," Severus concurred and averted his eyes, maybe a little too late to conceal that he had been watching Lupin. "I am … pleased that you enjoy it."

Lupin looked at him with a slight frown and Severus wondered if he had said something wrong. "I do," the werewolf said softly, and when Severus met his intense gaze, he thought that there lingered a deeper meaning in those two words. Lupin's eyes never left his when he took another sip of his tea. "You passed the Dementors, didn't you?" he asked then, quietly, and Severus let his eyes drift out of the window to the wrought-iron gates where the rotten creatures lurked.

"Yes," he replied curtly.

"I am just relieved that the Headmaster won't let them into the grounds," muttered the werewolf, still looking at Severus – and Severus wished he wouldn't, "I can barely stand their presence. What about you, Severus?"

Severus didn't want to answer but his mouth spoke of its own accord. "Yes, indeed," he said coolly but he regained control over his voice before it could utter anything too intimate, "every time I pass them I feel nothing but despair. The cruel certainty that I shall never find a reason good enough to get Potter expelled clings to me stubbornly. The thought of having to bear him for five more years makes my skin crawl."

Lupin gave him a half-heartedly scolding look. "I'm sure that Harry could say the same about you, my dear Severus," he said and Severus would almost have choked on his tea at the words "my dear". "And as far as I've heard, he's got good reason."

"Many people do," Severus replied indifferently and Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"And you don't care?" he asked and Severus sneered at him.

"No," said Severus simply. Of course Lupin would not understand. He liked to be liked, he liked others easily, and it was easy to like him.

"Personally, I like to be liked," said Lupin, indeed as though he had looked into Severus's mind. "You see, when people like me for who I am it tells me that I am not as bad as they would expect me to be if they knew what I am," said Lupin frankly. "It is proof that there really is no reason to hate me just because I am … a werewolf. And that is a good feeling. But you don't care if people like you at all?"

Severus shook his head and Lupin cocked his head to one side, his golden eyes looking through Severus like only they could. No, Severus did not care. Not about the students, anyway. He found that being feared and respected was a good thing. If the price was hatred, what of it? As long as Lupin didn't hate him … but he could not tell Lupin that. He wouldn't tell him that he was glad of his presence here, that he didn't resent him anymore.

Suddenly another smile spread over Lupin's face and he turned away with a knowing look, keeping to himself whatever he had seen in Severus's eyes. Taking a sip of his tea, Severus let the sweet taste roll slowly over his tongue and watched Lupin take a sip of his own. He feared that the werewolf had seen too much again, had perhaps glimpsed what Severus hadn't wanted to show him. But it was too late to worry now, he would have to be more careful about eye contact in future.

"That bad?" said Lupin in a very hoarse voice and cleared his throat, achieving only little improvement. "When you pass the Dementors, I mean. Is it so bad that you need to distract me with sarcasm?"

Severus stared at him for a moment. He really didn't need to say anything, it seemed, and he wondered why he even wasted his breath if Lupin could just look at him and read whatever Severus had to say in his eyes or wherever else it was written. Occlumency was no use. Lupin saw Severus's thoughts, no matter how tightly closed Severus's mind was. Severus didn't answer but took another sip of tea, looking at his shoes.

"Another thing we have in common, it seems," muttered the werewolf and got up, strolling to the window to look out over the grounds. "I suppose we are very close to understanding why Harry faints when they draw near. It is cruel to laugh at him." Lupin's right hand moved to his left side, unconsciously it seemed, and his fingers dug into the fabric of his robes where they covered his waist. Severus narrowed his eyes. Maybe Lupin would never show him the scar left by the werewolf bite that had changed his life, but now Severus knew where to find it. Draining his cup and setting it down on the table, Severus got up and walked across the room to stand behind Lupin at an appropriate distance, glancing over his shoulder at the gates. The sweet smell that surrounded Lupin teased him with its faintness and appeared to be luring him closer. But he would not narrow the distance.

"Do you remember the night when you were bitten?" asked Severus and knew it was tactless. But he wasn't exactly famous for his tact anyway.

Lupin turned his head slightly. "When the Dementors are near me, I do. All of it," he almost whispered, and his face was suddenly paler even than usual. "The shock, the pain, the feeling of almost dying. And then I wish I had died. And I remember another night, watching their dead bodies being carried out of the ruined house, being told that Sirius was a traitor. And then I feel dreadfully alone." He stopped, passing a hand over his face.

Severus looked away. Who was he to think that he was the only one suffering? Lupin had experienced pain that Severus did not know. And part of that pain had been caused by Severus's mistakes. There was a painfully constricting feeling in his throat now. A silence stretched between them that was so thick with unsaid words that it hurt Severus's ears and made them buzz. He wanted to break it, needed to break it. But what he wanted to say seemed unspeakable. He had never talked about it to anyone, not even Dumbledore. And yet, the werewolf's presence loosened his tongue and enabled him to utter what was too painful to even be thought about.

"The guilt I feel when they are close is almost unbearable," he said, and was aware of Lupin's attention at once. "Though they are old deeds, very old deeds, the things I did when I was … a Death Eater … at the Dark Lord's service … so many cruel acts, so many deaths … they come to me as clearly as though they had been done recently. And I feel … unworthy of treading the same ground as the rest of you." He faltered and could say no more. He couldn't tell the werewolf the whole truth after all, feared the consequences.

Lupin took the last sip from his cup and set it down on the windowsill, turning round to face Severus. He looked neither angry nor disgusted. He looked as though Severus's pain had been transferred to him. "I understand, Severus … you needn't say anything more," he said quietly and looked like a man who had seen and felt too much. "Everybody makes mistakes and they may haunt us forever if we don't forgive ourselves. What you did might be unforgivable. Yet, I choose to forgive you. But only forgiving yourself will really give you peace."

Severus could hardly believe his ears. He knew he could not forgive himself. He could not forgive anyone anything and he was just as hard on himself. How could Lupin just do it as easily as though it was about breaking his favourite cup? Severus did not deserve it. However, he disagreed with Lupin on only finding peace in forgiving oneself. Lupin's forgiveness had given him some peace, and the feeling that he did not deserve it made him uncomfortable. He wished he had not said anything at all, had just let the silence stretch.

"The mistakes I made in the past have created this rift between us that will probably last forever," said Lupin even more quietly, his amber eyes searching Severus's face. Severus was thankful for the change of topic and knew that Lupin had realised that Severus did not wish to speak about his own mistakes anymore. Lupin was very considerate. A pleasant character trait that Severus did not find in himself or anybody else he knew. He liked it. He appreciated the way Lupin knew things.

"Maybe not forever," said Severus in what he hoped was an offhand voice.

Lupin's smile was very warm indeed. He stepped past Severus, pulling his sweet scent with him teasingly, and sat down on his armchair again, patting the sofa to make Severus follow suit. Severus complied without comment and they looked at each other in silence for a while. Severus saw that Lupin had something on his mind and was trying to decide whether or not it was wise to say it. It took him a while but then he said, "After the full moon you said – I didn't quite understand. You did not want me here, after all. I thought it was because you are frightened of what I am – because of what almost happened in the Shrieking Shack when we were children."

Severus did not answer at first. Did he fear Lupin? He considered the werewolf and told himself "no" at once. There was nothing about Lupin that was anywhere near frightening. He did fear the wolf, yes, after having encountered it almost eighteen years ago, it was only natural not to foster a wish of seeing it again. But he had taken care of that part of Lupin, too, it was no longer dangerous. And Lupin, the man, Severus did not fear in the slightest, quite the contrary. He thought that, right now, he was enjoying his company extraordinarily much. Trust, however, was something completely other.

"Mistrust and fear are not the same," he said slowly. "The danger of a werewolf poses cannot be denied, however, that does not mean that the human who suffers from lycanthropy should be feared or mistrusted. Most people don't realise that being a werewolf doesn't make one a dangerous or untrustworthy person. The reason why I did not want you here had nothing to do with your condition."

Lupin's eyes were wide and incredulous when Severus looked into them. Severus couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, inhaling Lupin's faint sweet fragrance and looked into his amber eyes. Few times in his life had he looked at somebody who captivated him so, who was not only becoming in appearance but also gave him a pleasant feeling, whose company he didn't want to leave as soon as he could – on the contrary he wanted to prolong it. Lupin's attractiveness was not merely in his looks – it was much more than that, it was Lupin's voice, his personality, it was what lay hidden inside him, the kindness, the resolution, the calm, and the challenge they all posed. Severus's eyes found the little scar on Lupin's jaw and wandered to the werewolf's elegant hands, folded in his lap. He had not wanted him at Hogwarts. But now that he was there, Severus was glad of it.

"I've already told you that I don't think of you as a Dark creature," said Severus, when Lupin seemed unable, for once, to express what he was feeling. "You are the host of a parasitic Dark creature, that is all. You deserve all the chances that I get and only use reluctantly and ungratefully most of the time. They should be yours, not mine." Severus meant every word, surprised by his own sincerity. Now he could give the werewolf something in return for his kindness. Lupin's eyes never left his. He was sitting on the very edge of his armchair, his knees almost touching Severus's, his posture somewhat stiff, as if expectant.

"Why … why are you telling me this?" asked Lupin hoarsely and Severus had his answer ready.

"I thought that it was necessary you heard it," he said firmly and looked straight into Lupin's eyes. "I thought that somebody ought to tell you."

Lupin looked overcome with emotion then, and Severus was just wondering if it was indecent to watch the werewolf with this much greedy curiosity while he was so obviously moved and if Lupin would prefer him to avert his eyes, when something startling, something incredible happened, and his heart skipped a beat. For a split second, Severus thought that Lupin had come closer, had leant in to –

But no … that must have been his imagination. Wishful thinking maybe. Though he had not known until now that this was actually his wish. It could not have happened. Why would Lupin – but the werewolf lowered his eyes as he sat up a little straighter, rubbing his neck with a grin and a furrowed brow, blushing slightly as he shook his head as though scolding himself for wanting to do something inappropriate or foolish. Could it be? Had Lupin wanted to do it, but thought better of it? Maybe because he expected rejection? Severus had never seen Lupin blush like this before, anyway. The thought made his heart pound faster. He had never really thought about anything like that, despite the feelings for Lupin that he couldn't deny. He would never have thought that Lupin would want it. But now that he was under the impression that it had almost happened, the wish was strong and clear in him, as though it had always been there. And he failed to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Being close to Lupin, wanting to be close to him, felt oddly right. He had not felt like that in a very long time. Maybe never quite like this.

The werewolf's hand fidgeted a little as though he would like to reach for Severus's but did not dare. He was still so close, almost, but not quite, touching Severus. Severus wanted Lupin to touch him. Wanted to feel his warm skin. He could not say or do it himself, though, so he waited for the werewolf to read it in his eyes, displaying the message in them as clearly as he could. But the golden eyes were directed at the floor, afraid, possibly, that Severus might have noticed his movement and realised what he would almost have done. And the moment was over.

"Thank you for saying that, Severus," said Lupin to the floor and though his grin was still in place, Severus saw a single tear escaping through his eyelashes, dripping onto his knee. Lupin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and did not give away that he was even aware of his short weakness when he looked at Severus, smiling normally again, though warmly, extremely warmly. "You have no idea what that means to me."

Severus did have an idea. And he knew why Lupin had been overcome with emotion, unable, for a moment, to keep his cheerful mask in place. "Odd somehow …" said Severus and Lupin gave him an inquisitive look. "You said that our extraordinarily difficult lives have made us who we are. Of you it made an amiable teacher, liked by all … of me, though, well, you said it yourself, many have reason to dislike me."

"Amiable?" laughed Lupin. "Well, thank you very much. But I think compared to you even Minerva would pass as amiable."

Yes, Severus thought, the moment was definitely over. As though it had never happened at all. And it annoyed him. His face darkened before he could prevent it. As if Lupin would ever want to – as if anyone would …

"I'm sorry, Severus," said Lupin, frowning, "I did not mean to offend you."

Severus shook his head with a sneer. "You are right," he said simply, "nobody would call me amiable. I don't mind."

Lupin smiled a little and picked up the tin of tea, looking at it as he turned it between his fingers. His reflection was distorted by its round, golden surface. He sighed. "By the way," he said, looking at Severus with that warm smile, "I said that I like to be liked, but your liking is most valuable to me."

At first, Severus was too surprised and embarrassed to reply, then he cleared his throat and tried to cover it up by putting on a mock haughty look and applying a mock serious tone. "It should be," he said silkily, trying not to appear too flattered, "as it is very rare, and hard-earned."

The werewolf chuckled huskily and Severus wished he would never stop. Lupin liked to be liked by Severus. And it was most satisfying that Severus's liking was most important to him. For now it didn't even matter that Lupin knew that Severus harboured a liking for him, even though it was probably better kept a secret. Lupin's liking was most valuable to Severus, too, after all, and did feel like proof that Severus was better than he believed, that there was something about him that deserved Lupin's liking.

The fireplace was empty, yet it was warm beside Lupin. Pleasant. All of this was pleasant. Severus looked at their knees, not even an inch apart. He wondered if he should move his leg just a little to the left as if accidentally, like he had done with his hand the other day. He would feel the werewolf's warmth stream into his body again. Should he dare?

But he had no time to make up his mind because Lupin did so first. Severus wasn't sure if it had been intentional but he was glad it had happened. It was a short contact but unrivaled as of now in its intimacy. The effect was enormous. Heat shot through Severus's body, and at the same time he could barely suppress a shiver. Before Severus could indulge in it, however, Lupin moved his leg again, breaking contact, and reached for his wand on the table. The heat vanished from Severus's body at once, leaving his heart pounding embarrassingly loudly in his chest.

"Another cup of tea?" asked Lupin pleasantly, turning towards Severus with one of his sweet smiles. "It would give you an excuse to stay a little longer, so I won't get the idea that you enjoy my company."

Severus snorted, raising an eyebrow at Lupin, but he was too breathless now for a witty retort. "Why not," he said simply and when he finally popped into his mouth the chocolate Lupin had put on his saucer, he congratulated himself on the idea of giving Lupin tea.

When the sun set after felt hours of pleasant silence and occasional snippets of just as pleasant conversation, Severus bade Lupin farewell, being thanked again "for everything", whatever that meant, before he was allowed to leave and make his way to the dungeons through the dark, deserted corridors. The white tea was still on his tongue as he passed window after moonlit window, wondering how it might have been, how sweet it would have tasted if Lupin had … if they had kissed.