Title: The Teacher

Disclaimer: Everything that's part of the Harry Potter world belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Pairing: SS/RL

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Severus spent most of the remaining holidays outside, using the seldom occasion of completely empty grounds and the absolute absence of curious eyes, following his every step. The only two windows of present teachers or students directed at the lake were Remus's and Albus's, like that Severus could enjoy his winter walk in the snow round the lake, knowing that he wasn't being watched and if then only by those he didn't need to hide from.

The air smelt of snow and was cold to nose and ears, causing the Slytherin to bury his face in his scarf, while strolling round the lakeside, lonesome, taking in the beauty of the white landscape and the frozen water. Hagrid's hut was barely visible in the snow, covered and surrounded by except around the smoking chimney and the tall door. The castle looked like a painting, magnificently perfect with its white-topped towers next to the frozen Forbidden Forest.

Severus stopped at the far side of the lake, the ice separating him from the castle. He sighed when his eyes wandered over the Whomping Willow and the greenhouses. As a boy, just having left the school, he would never have believed that he'd return. Hogwarts was not the most pleasant place to be. He had many bad memories of his time at school, and his job as a teacher wasn't necessarily his dream job either, he wasn't made for teaching children. Least of all those dunderheads attending the school. And maybe he wasn't made for any other job either, he had never really thought about jobs anyway, wanting to become a Death Eater all his school life. But still, being at Hogwarts was better than being at Spinner's End, or at Azkaban; Hogwarts had always been a sanctuary, especially when, after the war, he had been at an utter loss of orientation and perspective, alone and outcast. At the castle, he was respected and he had a home. And a task.

Probably that was what Remus liked, too, though for him of course, the memories of his own childhood were positive, he had spent the best years of his life at Hogwarts. And he had always wanted to be a teacher. Was born to be one. Severus sighed again, he had taught him a lot, too. Suddenly he heard a crunching noise, like very slow steps in the snow, and whirled round – just a little too late. The green and brown blur hit him in the chest and he tumbled and fell into the snow. The hoarse laugh was unmistakable.

"Remus!" Severus growled, shoving the werewolf off himself rather roughly, and sat up. "What in Slytherin's name did you do that for?"

Remus rolled onto his back, his laugh rising in foggy clouds from his mouth into the icy air. He was wearing a thick dark green cloak, patched like all his others, brown leather boots and woolen gloves with the fingertips missing, but no scarf. Severus scowled at him. He had recovered quickly after the full moon but the exhaustion was still written on his face.

"I spotted you from my window and wondered whether you would be willing to let me accompany you, Albus said you didn't let anyone. You didn't notice me following you. You were obviously quite deep in thought, or I deserve an O in stealth!" Remus chuckled and sighed. Severus wondered whether he could catch his foggy breath with a phial.

"The wolf hunting its prey? I hope you can restrain yourself from eating me now," Severus said sarcastically and made to get up. Remus rolled over, though, pushing Severus back down into the snow with his body pressed against his. His eyes were gleaming with mischief again.

"Ah, I don't know. You look rather delicious," he purred and Severus anticipated his kiss when it came, unconcerned of any onlookers, so far from the castle, lying in the deep snow. The icy cold seemed to be swallowed by Remus's heat and the Potions master had the feeling that not only the snow beneath them was melting but they as well, into each other, becoming one warm mass. Severus's hands found their way to Remus's bare neck and his cold ungloved fingers burnt with the contact of the werewolf's warm skin. When Remus broke the kiss and got up, he tried to pull Severus onto his feet with him, but staggered and fell, Severus landing beside him in the snow again. The silent air was once more disturbed by the hoarse fog of his laugh.

Severus unwound his scarf from around his neck and laid it round Remus's instead to protect the delicate man from the cold. "You will fall ill again if you don't dress properly, you dunderhead," he said and got up, walking away from him. He heard the werewolf scramble to his feet and hurry after him. When he caught up, he had buried his nose in the black scarf and touched Severus's hair, wet from the snow. The Slytherin moved away from his hand and glowered at him.

"Sorry about that," said Remus, his voice muffled by the scarf. "I hope you won't fall ill now."

Severus shook his head. "Like I said, I am never ill."

Remus chuckled. They walked in pleasant silence for a while, sometimes disturbed by Remus trying to skate on the ice of the lake, only just managing not to fall, waving his arms through the air to keep his balance and laughing with joy. Severus watched him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to fall and break something, but it didn't happen; his movements were graceful as ever. Remus's laugh was rather refreshing and it sounded as if it hadn't been in use for some time. With no real childhood and a spoilt youth, spent lonely and miserable, without aim or perspective, he and Remus shared another fate. Though laughing was something Severus had forgotten how to do, it was nice listening to Remus doing it as though he needed to catch up on lost times.

When the werewolf landed on his hands and knees, just avoiding to hit his head after slipping on the ice Severus called, "Would you refrain from breaking your neck? Knowing our background, they would blame me for your premature death and send me to Azkaban." He got a chuckle in return.

"You know, Severus," panted Remus when he reached solid ground again, "I've thought a lot about my life, how long I want to live, how I want to live. I had a lot of time to do so, in the last years. They weren't really the best years, mind you, and sometimes I felt myself dreading the long lifespan of wizards." He leant against the elm-tree he had sat under with his friends so often in long gone years and glanced around the grounds. "Not that my own lifespan were that long, as a werewolf, but still, even half the years of Dumbledore were still too many. The prospect was: agonising transformations for the rest of my life, which would be spent in poverty, unemployed or with hard work, even in the Muggle-world, alone, without acceptance among wizardkind and with no real pleasure in life, but reading, tea and chocolate. Not very promising. I didn't want to live awfully long like that."

Remus smiled slightly but Severus's face was stern. He knew the feeling, though he had to admit that his own situation was much more comfortable. "Now I feel so much better, so much more confident of the future. If I can continue like this, here, teaching and close to you, I want to live for another hundred years. This chance made me believe in life again and in other chances to follow, after this one is gone. And who knows, maybe after the discovery of the Wolfsbane, there will be a cure found in the near future and I might just become a normal person."

Severus put his freezing hands into his pockets. He doubted that Remus would become normal even if cured. He could never change who the curse had made of him. Or people's opinions about what it made him. And though it was a terribly egoistic thing to think, he didn't want him to change, be like everyone else. He wanted him like he was, so similar to and so different from himself. That was the man he had grown to appreciate. Severus stepped closer to him to be in the range of his warmth.

"Hope is allowed, right?" whispered Remus, looking at the snowy ground. The Slytherin didn't answer. Unfulfilled hope was pure torture. He felt Remus's hand on his left arm and looked up into his eyes.

"When we were students…" he began but Severus shook his head and his brows knitted.

"Do not speak of things that I cannot forgive," he said shortly and Remus's eyes saddened immensely.

"I'm sorry, Severus. It wouldn't happen nowadays."

Severus averted his eyes again. He didn't really want to hear anything about the events that had taken place under this elm-tree. "You are different now, stronger, maybe," he muttered and saw Remus shake his head sadly.

"I fear my backbone's still as wobbly as it was. But my priorities have changed a little," said he with a smile that was full of disappointment with himself. Severus frowned.

"I do not agree," he said simply and Remus's smile saddened even further.

"Is it a bad thing that I want people to like me? That I want you to like me?" he asked and Severus's frown deepened.

"No," he answered. "Most people would believe that I've bewitched you, though."

Remus laughed again and Severus was glad that the tension ceased. You've bewitched me, he thought to himself, who would believe that? He couldn't help but give in to the urge to capture those red lips with his, stealing the laughter away, swallowing it before it could foggily dissolve in the freezing air.

When they made their way back to the castle Remus was eager to let him know that, no, he hadn't given Potter the Firebolt as Minerva had suspected, that if he could afford such a broom he wouldn't buy it but purchase a few new garments and loads of new books. Severus wasn't surprised by the suspicions McGonagall and probably some others had had. Remus was one of the boy's parents' friends after all and it wasn't a secret that he was very fond of him. The Potions master just couldn't comprehend why the other man would like such an impertinent brat, but then again, he seemed to have a weakness for foul characters.

"You are favouring him," Severus replied and got a 'look who's talking'-glance from the werewolf that ended the conversation.

Inside, Remus gave Severus back his scarf and thanked him before walking up to his rooms with a hum on his lips.

In the night of the thirty-first of December, Remus turned up in Severus's sitting room to celebrate the New Year. Severus glowered at him, having snapped out of his sleep on the sofa, over the book he had received from him for Christmas. What was there to celebrate? Another pointless year had gone by only to be followed by the next pointless year. Remus chuckled and pulled him to the window, to look at the starry sky.

"Let's hope that the next year will start with the perfection this year is ending with," said Remus, leaning against the windowsill. "We should think about some good intentions for next year."

Severus scowled and crossed his arms. "Why should I change anything?"

Remus smiled. "Maybe because it makes your life better."

"Those intentions are never fulfilled. They are just empty words," said Severus coolly.

Remus turned to him and shrugged. "We utter them in the hope that we will be strong enough to put them into practice. It means that we are aware of our mistakes and shortcomings and ready to try and erase them." He reached out and smoothed a crease in Severus's robes over his collarbone. "I have many flaws and I try to erase them," he continued, looking upset for a moment before he met Severus's eyes. "Probably I won't succeed but I will keep trying to improve myself."

Severus shook his head and rolled his eyes. "That is unnecessary," he said and was somewhat pleased when Remus smiled, though there was something in his eyes that seemed sad like on the day of their walk. Before he could even start to think about what might be wrong, the grandfather clock struck twelve and Remus leant in to kiss him, startling Severus a little. In the corner of his eye, Severus saw the usual Dumbledorish firework in the dark sky, dipping the waning moon in all imaginable colours.

When the twelfth stroke had left the room in silence, Remus pulled back, wishing Severus a 'Happy New Year' and made to leave, back through the fireplace. Severus leant against the cold window, licking his lips, promising that he would try and give up his reserved passiveness in the year to come and hold Remus back from leaving when he wanted him to stay.

Soon, the castle's halls were filled with noisy dunderheads again and lessons started, leaving them with lots of work and little time. Gladly, the Christmas decorations had been removed and Minerva had sworn never to drink alcohol ever again. Until next Christmas.

On Wednesday, Severus met the werewolf bustling about the castle, apparently in search of something. When he stuck his head into a broom cupboard Severus approached him, crossed his arms and looked over his shoulder, making him jump when he turned round.

"Severus!" he said, pressing a hand to his heart. "How are you?"

Severus raised an eyebrow and looked into the cupboard. "What are you doing?"

Remus looked confused for a moment, turned to the cupboard and back to Severus again, closing the door with a smile. "I'm looking for a Boggart. Have been since yesterday," he said.

Severus waited for an elaboration but when none came he asked, "Why?"

"Harry's Boggart is a Dementor. Very helpful when practicing the Patronus Charm," said Remus, moving away from the cupboard and to the nearest classroom. Severus glided after him with a scowl.

"You are going to teach him, then?" he snapped and Remus nodded calmly. "What does Dumbledore say?"

"He thinks it wise. Because 'Harry should be able to defend himself against the misery and despair such a rotten creature brings to him. As a child, he should be able to live without his dying parents in his ears,'" the werewolf mumbled and closed the door of the classroom again, moving to the next. "That's what he said, so, I think he is okay with my 'favouring' Harry."

Severus's scowl darkened. He didn't like it. The boy didn't deserve the attention or the werewolf's affection. Apart from that, Potter was only thirteen years old. How big was the chance that he would actually manage the spell with his at most average talent?

"Do you not think that you overestimate his skill? That he will be too young to master such a highly advanced spell?" Severus said coldly, watching the other man close the door and move on again.

"We will see," Remus said, facing him. "Listen, I know that you don't approve but… I need to do this. We will start tomorrow, so… if you want to help me find a Boggart, then do so. If you want to sabotage me –" he winked at Severus, "– don't even try. I won't let you."

Severus's scowl turned into a glare and he fixed his eyes on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and met the golden orbs. "Filch's office might be providing what you are looking for," he growled and turned in a swirl of robes to walk away into the opposite direction.

It was just a little satisfying when he heard Remus call, "Thank you, Severus!" after him in a much too cheerful voice.

On Thursday Severus saw Remus carry a large packing case about, being thanked grumpily by Filch, giving him a "thanks" of his own.

"Been successful?" Severus asked in passing him and Remus nodded with a smile, shifting the case, steadying it on his hip.

"Yes, thanks again," said he and laughed. "Mr Filch was not delighted to see me in his office again. He remembers me very well from my own time at school, playing pranks and so on. I was there being punished with the others more than once, fearing that one day he might actually hang us from the ceiling by our wrists with those chains of his or skin us alive and feed us to the Blast-Ended Skrewts."

Severus raised an annoyed eyebrow. Indeed, Remus and his gang of idiot friends had been very much like the Weasley twins. Maybe not quite as bad. It was hard, nowadays, to imagine that decent and quiet professor as a troublemaking prankster. Only the gleam of mischief in his eyes was a reminder of it.

"Well, but when I told him that I would get rid of his Boggart for him he let me proceed. It was in his filing cabinet." He paused and when the bell rang he added quickly, "Can I come to your rooms afterwards?"

Severus hesitated for a moment, and then nodded when a stream of students swept them into opposite directions.

In the evening he leafed through Remus's father's book again, a glass of wine in his hand. It was almost ten when the flames in his fireplace burnt green and Remus's revolving figure emerged from them. He stepped out from under the mantelpiece and dusted off his patched robes, giving Severus a weak smile before walking towards the sofa and collapsing on it. Severus laid the book aside and gave him a curious look.

"It was… terrible," the werewolf said, rubbing his eyes and chuckling shakily.

"I told you so," said Severus but Remus shook his head.

"No, no… Harry did well enough. Actually he was really good. Managed not to pass out the third time around. That was a good start," Remus said and Severus's face darkened at his proud tone.

"What was it then?" he snapped and Remus looked at him with sad eyes.

"Not only was I affected by the Boggart-Dementor, as well, it was mostly Harry's experience that made me… well, feel bad," he replied and ran a hand through his hair. He looked rather pale. "He heard… James this time. And… well, somehow it was so painful to look at him and listen to him. Then he asked me if I knew Sirius and… God, I wouldn't have believed this so difficult."

Remus buried his face in his hands and Severus looked into his wine. "If it pains you, then you shouldn't continue," he muttered.

"But I want to help him. And I must admit that I want to get to know him better," Remus said, and shuffled closer.

"You knew his father, you know him. He is no different from him," Severus growled when a delicate hand snuck into the crook of his arm. "Arrogant."

He could feel Remus's intent stare on him and tried to ignore it. "Why are you so annoyed by my spending time with him? He isn't like James was when he was his age."

"He is an insolent brat who steals my time with you!" Severus snapped and almost crushed his glass. Right after the words had left his lips he felt embarrassed and childish. When Remus touched his hand he felt cold and Severus was surprised by it. He had never felt cold before.

"That's… you make him hate you, you know?" Remus whispered very close to Severus's ear and his warm breath was making him shiver. At least his breath was still warm.

"It is good that he hates me," replied Severus darkly.

"The guilt again?" Remus asked and Severus sipped on his wine. "Those things were too big for us, Severus. There are many things that I don't understand even now. Many things that I was never told. Others made the decisions that really changed something."

"Oblivion and ignorance are no excuse. It is not as if the deaths of Potter's parents were the only ones that I was involved in," Severus snarled and wanted to take another gulp of his wine but the glass was taken from him by a gentle hand.

"You are on the right side now, Severus," said Remus, taking a sip of his own. "You know how I think about it. Who you are now is the only thing that matters."

"I killed!"

"So, did I," replied Remus unimpressed.

Severus looked at him with a glare. "As if that were the same."

"I didn't say that. I just said that you have changed."

Severus heaved an exasperated sigh. He wanted to hear that, and at the same time he felt shabby because of it. "I have not changed as much as you think. I do look up to the Dark Lord; even if I do not worship him, he is a great wizard. I wanted to be respected and to prove myself and he gave me that opportunity. I didn't feel like the hated weirdo your friends used to torture, when I was in the Death Eaters' rows. I wanted to stop the laughing and I did. No one laughed at me anymore after I had received the Mark," he took a deep breath and seized Remus's hand around the wine glass. "I was convinced of his purpose. And I agreed with him, that Muggles are scum, that wizards are superior. I hated them. Because of my father. Though I didn't know it then, our fates were similar."

Remus didn't let go of the glass, just stared at him with a stern face and a creased brow. "He is nothing like you. And you are nothing like him. You are respected here, too, you don't need him to gain self-confidence. You are not like that, Severus, maybe you were in the past, but not anymore." His eyes were imploring Severus to agree with him but the Slytherin averted his own. "We've had this discussion before. I know you better than that, Severus, and you know yourself, too. You are not like that."

Severus glanced at him. He didn't think that Muggle-borns were unworthy, he didn't hate all Muggles, just didn't want anything to do with them, he didn't think werewolves were vermin, he didn't need the Dark Mark anymore to feel self-confident, it rather had the opposite effect, he wouldn't join the Death Eaters again if he could choose, it had been a foolish decision, a desperate search for glory. But he did think of the Dark Lord as a great wizard, just like Dumbledore, who had performed great magic that Severus had wished and still wished to master one day. But he hated him, too, regretted the services he had done for him and if he could prevent it, he wouldn't do it again. It was true, he had changed. A lot. Though he was still nasty, he wasn't evil. And Remus was so much more similar to him than he was.

Severus let go of the wine glass and let Remus press his forehead into his temple. "You are courageous, Severus, a soldier. A good one. I am sure you were a much more effective one than me. I was never much of a warrior."

"It isn't for you, you are soft. I am sure you feel guilty for all the deaths you've caused even though it was self-defence," said Severus quietly and Remus smiled against his cheek.

"You're right," he whispered. "All the time, I just wanted to live a quiet life and teach. The battlefield destroys people. I didn't want to be shattered even further. I didn't want to fight and kill. But it was necessary. To help restore peace in the world. I didn't want to be a coward while everyone else fought and risked their lives." He chuckled bitterly and slumped against Severus, setting the wine down and laying his arms round the Potions master's neck. "My efforts were appreciated, right?" he added sarcastically. It was unusual for him to make such a comment but Severus knew that he needed to make it to release some anger, to prevent shouting it out.

Severus turned his head and their lips met in a short kiss. Again, Severus didn't know any words of comfort. They had both been used and damaged. Maybe the knowledge of sharing it was comfort enough. "Dumbledore is rather cruel," Severus said quietly and Remus kissed him again, humming in agreement.

"I was abandoned," said Remus quietly, "after the war. Nobody kept in touch with me. They acted as if they didn't recognise me in the street. I didn't expect help, just someone to talk to. But I had lost everything, my whole life. No letter in twelve years. And then there he was, Dumbledore, when I had already given up hope, standing before my door, asking a favour. Stepping over the threshold into the very ruins of my existence. I was angry with him. I wanted to say no, but couldn't. The offer was too tempting, my debt to him too big and I was glad to be of some use again. I was grateful… though I knew that he didn't just want to do me some good. He needed me. Another nice feeling."

Severus comprehended the dilemma. But in his pride he would have declined the offer; he had stayed at Hogwarts only out of duty and guilt, and indebted to the Headmaster. Though Severus would never admit that he appreciated his position at the school, he was indeed grateful that Dumbledore had placed trust in him, saved him from Azkaban and for other help that he hadn't deserved; he had the highest respect for him. He was of use to the old man, Remus would probably have been a burden, would have reminded him of his mistake.

And now that he needed him, for teaching or because of Black Severus didn't know, he just invited him to Hogwarts, knowing that he couldn't refuse, probably thinking that he was being kind. It was cruel in a very subtle way, unintentionally so, but still cruel. Especially to a man like Remus, loyal, anguished Remus who had not had anyone in the whole world, who had waited, yearned for only so much as an occasional letter and Severus was sure that the old man had known it all along. Dumbledore was just a man like any other, after all, powerful, yes, but just as flawed. And yet, one could not say no to him, or hate him.

"Well," sighed Remus, "I learnt in the last decade that the only person I can really rely on is myself. The problem is, talking to myself is rather boring and makes the people around me think that I'm nuts." He chuckled but Severus heard the bitterness in it.

"I am there now," said Severus quietly, looking into the other's golden pools. Remus seemed surprised for a moment, then he smiled warmly and intertwined their fingers.

"Yes, you are," he said happily.

"And I will be," Severus continued, implying that even Remus's probable leaving the school at the end of the year wouldn't change that. The werewolf nodded.

"I will be there for you, too. Always," he replied and when they kissed it was deeper and longer than before, making Severus think that it would never stop. It did, though, because Remus knocked over the wine with his knee, spilling the liquid all over their robes as he leant into Severus's hand on the small of his back, trying to press both forward against Severus's torso and back into his arm. He got up, apologising, and gathered up the glass shards from the floor until Severus, who had watched him in annoyed amusement for a while, waved his wand to make the mess disappear.

"Clumsy werewolf," he muttered and Remus scratched the nape of his neck, blushing slightly.

"That's just you making me nervous," the Gryffindor replied with a wink, startling Severus into silence. Remus smiled and sat down again leaving a few inches between them to spend the rest of the night in silence with the Potions master, watching him read, until he left at about one in the morning.

On Saturday, Slytherin won over Ravenclaw in the first Quidditch match of the new term, taking first place in the fight for the cup. While watching the game, Remus, sitting beside Severus, had silently cheered the team on, if for Severus's pleasure or because he had really wanted them to win, Severus didn't know but it added up to his satisfaction. After congratulating his team, Severus found Remus waiting for him in his office, sitting on his desk, asking if he was in the mood for a celebration, holding up two bottles of Butterbeer. Severus accepted, even though he didn't really like the sweet liquid, and ended up nuzzling the exposed place where jaw line curved into neck, eager to be warmed by Remus's skin, glad this time that he never wore a scarf.

Remus chuckled, holding him in place with his hand on Severus's neck, and informed him that if his reaction were like that after every victory he would almost be tempted to hope for Gryffindor's defeat in the last game of the season. Severus accepted the hug he gave him only minutes after that, getting up to leave. The warmth was welcome after the match in the cold January weather, and it stayed with him even after Remus had closed the door behind himself.

On Sunday, he stood in the office again, wishing Severus a 'happy birthday' which startled the Slytherin; usually only Albus thought of his birthday and that Remus had remembered it felt somewhat special. He received yet another volume of the Potions book Remus had given him for Christmas and when he asked how many of them Remus kept hidden in his rooms the werewolf just winked and told him that he would have to turn fifty before he ran out of special books. In his stunned gratefulness Severus even let Remus sit on his desk so close to his left arm that his thigh was touching his elbow while he got the rest of his work done for the next week, probably giving far better marks than usual.

It became a ritual that after every Patronus lesson the werewolf would shuffle in without permission and slump down next to Severus wherever he was. In some nights he was very silent, just staring at some point or another, and Severus knew he was thinking about his past. In other nights, though, he babbled on and on about Patronuses and Potter and whatever came to his mind, uncaring that Severus merely nodded or tried to ignore him, continuing whatever he had been doing until the werewolf had come in, simply in need for somebody to be with. Severus had the impression that everything the other hadn't been able to tell in the last decade was now being spilt to him, his confidant. It was satisfying somehow, though unnerving sometimes. He shouted at Remus more than once – regretting his tone just a little, afterwards – that he should stop thinking that Severus was interested in Potter, no matter if father or son.

It made the other fall silent for a few minutes and change the subject when he started talking again, trying to make Severus engage in the conversation. Nevertheless, Severus enjoyed his company and his voice talking so eagerly or its silence ringing in his ears, and he was more and more inclined to let Remus's arms encircle his waist from behind while he was brewing a potion or to kiss Remus's jaw when his face was worried, making the werewolf lean in and against him.

He couldn't keep his nastiness to himself, though, and made the other angry once or twice by implying, for instance, that he was better off without his treacherous friends or that the screams of Potter's dying parents in the boy's ears would perhaps make him a little more modest and grateful. Remus's face darkened considerably then and he brought a vast distance between them, though he didn't leave, just gave a deadly calm retort and waited a few minutes until Severus's folded arms sank again along with his scowl, and his black eyes signaled that he regretted his words. Not because he hadn't meant them, but because he had chased the werewolf away, Severus was sure that the other knew that, and he felt rather good with the fact that Remus's priorities were set like this. If they hadn't been, they would probably have spent most of their joint time sitting on opposite sides of the sofa.

Severus knew that Remus came to him after the lessons with Potter because he felt vulnerable and depressed, being reminded over and over again of the worst time of his life. They were very intimate moments and Severus appreciated his decision to spend them in the dungeons with him although he was usually cold and distanced when Remus told him about his experiences with the boy or his own memories of the deaths of his friends. All four of them, since he had stated that Black was dead to him, too.

The Potions master knew what it meant to Remus, always wearing his fake cheerfulness in front of others, to let his guard down and just be profoundly sad or upset. It meant letting Severus in on something no one was supposed to see, sharing it with him to relieve the pain. With him rather than with anyone else.

"You know, Severus," said the werewolf one evening, burying his face in the crook of Severus's neck muffling his voice with the fabric of the black robes, "you give me all the things that I've wished for, during those many past years. It is so perfect, having you to be with."

Severus, who had put his arms round the werewolf rather helplessly when he had suddenly pressed up against him, didn't know what to reply. He didn't know exactly what he was giving, he only knew what he was receiving, nothing had changed that, even though he had slowly started to be more physically affectionate. He thought that he understood what the other meant, though. They both longed, craved for someone to be themselves with, to share everything with. Severus had learnt that it was a magnificent feeling to do so. Relieving and healing and downright pleasurable. They hadn't reached the point of sharing quite everything, though, and Severus didn't know if they ever would. He was reserved, still, like he had been all along, mistrusting and careful. But he wasn't the only one to keep things from the other, hide them from his eyes.

On the next full moon Severus just couldn't resist his curiosity and the urge it incited to linger in the other's office after having been sent out just as the transformation started, when the moon's first light fell in through the windows, touching the werewolf's mellow skin. He had slowly walked out of the sitting room and heard Remus's strain to keep his pain silent until the door had closed behind him. Now the Slytherin, true to his nature, was pressing his ear against the wood, preventing it from transforming back to stone, and listened to the screams of anguish that came from the werewolf's still human lips.

He pushed himself off the door before he could hear any wolfish howls and watched the wood vanish in the stone wall. He stood staring at the grey wall for a few long moments, feeling some cold wave welling up in his stomach as the screams echoed in his head. He felt guilty for having spied like that, on something which was obviously not meant for his ears. And he felt pained, suffering with the gentle man who was so bright and good and delicate. The sound of his hoarse voice breaking at its very top almost made Severus feel the stretching of sinews, the tearing of muscle, the splintering of bone. It was miraculous that Remus could survive month after month of this torture which was breaking his thin, fragile body and shattering his self-control, forcing him to scream to be able to bear the agonising pain.

Deciding not to let Remus know of the fact that he had been eavesdropping, Severus left for the dungeons, preparing for a night spent restless and unsleeping. He made sure that his best painkilling potion was ready for the morning and standing beside the Invigorating Draught. Most unlike himself Severus swore that he would respect Remus's wish not to reveal certain things to him, just like the werewolf respected the same in him, and that he would wait patiently until the other decided to share even those last secrets with him. And Severus would be ready and prepared when he did, ready to be there and give instead of receiving, prepared for whatever chasm the other needed to be pulled out of or joined in.