Title: The Teacher

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

Pairing: SS/RL

Gryffindor Traits

It was the protruding collarbone that caught his attention. It was not merely the naked skin that attracted his eyes, and it was not just the long scar running up from somewhere beneath the tee-shirt over the werewolf's chest to the crook of his neck. It was the shape of the bone that appealed to him, curving like the werewolf's upper lip, from the shoulder to the deep hollow in the middle, soft and round, so clearly visible under the pale skin.

Severus reached out a hand, transfixed, and ran his fingertips over the exposed skin, feeling the solid bone underneath its soft cover. His eyes narrowed at the touch and he felt strangely thrilled by it, a surge of odd pleasure washing over him. He let his index finger sink into the valley below Remus's throat and his fingertips ghosted under the collar of the tee-shirt, sliding it aside. Severus paused then and let his eyes sweep over the curves that seemed to form a mild smile, matching the one constantly present in the Gryffindor's face.

Severus's lips had curled into a puzzled smile of their own before he could prevent it, his fingers still resting on the delicate yet firm line, so intriguing to him, so surreal in spite or maybe because of the contact of their skin. It was a soft sigh that brought him back to reality and his fingers followed his eyes as they wandered up over Remus's throat to his jaw and his cheekbone, remaining there for a moment before withdrawing.

Remus's golden eyes fluttered open, blinded at first by the bright light flooding in through the windows until Severus moved so that his body blocked the rays on their way to the other's face. The sigh was repeated when the golden orbs found Severus's black tunnels and the corners of the werewolf's mouth quirked upwards.

"…erus," Remus croaked, his voice failing him at the first syllables and he cleared his throat. "Glad you're here."

Severus inclined his head and sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes falling to the other's collarbone again which disappeared under the fabric of the shabby tee-shirt when the werewolf shifted and sat up with a wince. As he drank the two potions Severus had brought with him, his eyes roamed the Potions master's face and when he had drained the bottles he gave Severus an inquiring look.

"Your expression is unusually mild today, Severus. Has anything pleasant occurred?" he asked and the Slytherin averted his eyes.

"No," he said shortly and tried not to give in to the blush forcing its way into his cheeks. With considerable effort he put his indifferent darkness back in place but when he directed his gaze back at the werewolf his hand moved on its own and brushed against the marred skin of Remus's neck, flicking his tee-shirt out of the way as his white fingers crawled further down tracing the many scars like a spider's legs that balanced over the strings of a web. Remus leant into the touch and pressed Severus's hand firmly to his neck.

Severus was fascinated by how the way Remus's body was shaped emphasised the gracefulness of his movements, how his lean frame was enfolded in the white sheets as if they were trying to protect him from all harm, from Severus's too rough hands and lips and eyes. When Severus tried to withdraw his hand he was pulled on top of Remus with a yank on his arm and as he scrambled to get up again, flustered, the werewolf's chuckle so close to his ear and the scratching of the other's stubble against his cheek made him freeze. The body underneath his own was so warm and the arms that held him close were so unreal; Severus felt like a beggar whose bag had been filled with a thousand Galleons instead of one Knut.

Severus's heart beat quickened and he knew that this time he had lost the battle against his blush. Remus's hands snuck under the outer layer of his black robes and ran up his back to seize the fabric over his shoulders. Severus could feel the werewolf's every rib under his own, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. Remus pressed his face into Severus's neck and winced when the Potions master relaxed and his weight came down fully onto him. Severus pushed himself up and away from Remus who looked a little rueful at his giving away that he was in pain.

"Ah, after the moon I always feel so sore…" he said with a grin and rubbed his ribcage. Severus considered him, trying to calm his heart, then he got up and smoothed out his robes.

"I need to prepare my classes. If you need anything more, do call me through the floo," he said and swept off. The werewolf's sight, the soft outline of his body, the delicate curve of his neck melting into his collarbones streaming down to the base of his throat like brooks to a lake, didn't leave his mind all day and all night.

As February went on, Severus felt his eyes glued to Remus all the time, trying to peel off the collar of his robe from his neck with pure will power whenever he sat opposite him in the staff room watching him read or look out of the window. When he caught himself doing so he would scowl but couldn't stop staring and remembering how the other had looked in the thin tee-shirt, surrounded by the sheets in his bed. Such inappropriate thoughts! He only barely managed not to blush when the Headmaster laid his hand onto his shoulder and said, "A nice sight, isn't it, my boy?"

The Potions master turned and looked up into those twinkling blue eyes sitting in that old face which was wrinkled in an annoyingly knowing grin. He gave the old man his most deathly glare. "What in Salazar's name do you mean, Headmaster?" Severus snapped, trying to sound as if he had not been enjoying any sight at all.

"Why, the snow of course, what else would I mean?" said Albus with a wink and Severus's face darkened. With a pat on his back Albus walked away and left Severus redirecting his eyes at Remus who was fiddling with his cravat while reading a book with his right index finger tracing the lines.

"Pray tell, Remus, how do you manage not to be affected by Severus's murderous glares?" Minerva McGonagall's voice said and the werewolf lifted his head, tearing his eyes away from the pages of his book only reluctantly.

"Murderous?" he asked glancing at Severus with a smile. "Well, apart from the fact that I don't believe that this particular look was provoked by my person… as long as Severus doesn't find a way to kill with his eyes, I don't see a reason to worry." He shot Severus a wink and the Potions master folded his arms and averted his eyes. With a laugh McGonagall moved on to sit down beside Flitwick.

"Actually I'm quite glad that your looks cannot kill, Severus," chuckled Remus.

"You wouldn't be the one to feel that effect, never fear," Severus muttered and took hold of his cup of coffee on the table.

"It is not I who makes you glare, is it?" the werewolf said in a slightly worried tone but when Severus met his eyes his brow softened.

From further down the table a conversation reached their ears. "Potter asked me for his broom again. I really hope that it will not take much longer until I can give it back to him, Filius," McGonagall said.

"I'll do the last tests as fast as possible, Minerva," Flitwick replied in his squeaky voice. "But you do agree with me when I say that safety is more important than giving the broom back too quickly."

A sigh was heard from the witch's mouth. "Yes, but I am anxious as to the Quidditch game at the end of the month."

"Of course you are, Minerva, but Sirius Black shouldn't be underestimated," Albus said with a smile audible in his voice.

Severus turned his cup round and round while listening, staring at Remus's scarred fingers lightly holding the page he was reading, ready to turn it. His soft, hoarse voice made Severus look up at his face.

"I don't think the broom is cursed."

"Oh?" Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "And why would that be? Is it a hidden talent of yours to recognise cursed brooms?"

The werewolf shrugged, eyes never leaving the book. "Isn't it a little too obvious? Sending a broom anonymously? He must have known that it would be confiscated…"

Severus took a sip of coffee. "Maybe he was desperate because of his failure at Hallowe'en."

"I don't know… it would be a great risk buying that broom."

"Insensible behaviour is exactly what occurs when one is desperate!" Severus snapped impatiently. "Or do you know anyone else who would send the boy the most expensive broom on the market?"

"I don't. But maybe it was a benevolent sympathiser," Remus said calmly.

"You mean such as yourself?"

"No, not me," the werewolf said, finally raising his eyes. "You know that."

Severus scowled at him. "Do I?"

Remus didn't answer, just went back to reading with a slight downward quirk of his lips. Severus couldn't help it, he just wasn't a friendly person and he was even less so when Black was the topic of a conversation and least so when Remus spoke of the madman as if he were clever and cunning instead of crazy and evil.

On the last Thursday before the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match Severus returned to his sitting room in the evening having finished the brewing of the day very late, only to find the werewolf sitting on his sofa with a half-empty bottle of Butterbeer and the box of nougats Severus had given him for Christmas. Remus smiled vaguely when their eyes met and got up, his shabby robes falling around his thin frame like a curtain around a work of art, concealing his graceful body.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Severus. I couldn't wait for your permission. I felt… lonely and… upset," he mumbled when Severus approached him.

"I know that I will regret the question but, what happened?" Severus drawled and stepped past him to sit down. Remus lowered himself beside him and held out a nougat to him which he declined.

"Harry makes good progress with the Charm, though he doesn't believe so himself. I keep assuring him that he does a good job but he thinks he should be able to manage the spell perfectly in such a short time."

"Arrogant brat," Severus snapped and was ignored.

"He asked me about Dementors. Wanted to know what's under their hood, so I told him what I know and that the Dementor's Kiss will be Sirius Black's punishment… Harry is of the opinion that he deserves that fate," Remus continued, his voice bitter even though his mouth was full of sugar.

"And you do not agree?" asked Severus incredulously. "You of all people?"

Remus's amber eyes narrowed and wandered up to his face. "To get your soul sucked out is not a fate I would wish upon even my worst enemy."

"It astounds me that you question this punishment, after all, he betrayed you and your friends and killed thirteen Muggles. Shouldn't he suffer something much worse than the redemption of death?" Severus replied and Remus rubbed his forehead.

"I think that there is nothing good in it. I don't even want to imagine how it must feel to lose one's soul. No wizard, no matter how wise or just, should be allowed to decide who is to lose their soul, whose existence should be wiped out, in this world and the next. If killing is unforgivable then destroying another human being completely, with nothing left but an empty shell should be so, as well. Otherwise, all of us, even the innocent, have to fear that fate. And you, Severus, who values the soul so much, do you really believe that anyone deserves that? Even Sirius? Or that anyone is entitled to make that decision." His amber eyes were piercing Severus and he knew that it was his soul as well that Remus feared to be destroyed for the crimes he had committed.

Severus considered him, his slightly parted lips, his anxious eyes, his delicate fingers, clutching at Severus's outer robe. "I think that for ruining another person's life… for hurting them, tearing them apart… it might feel good for that person to know that the one who did it to them is suffering the worst punishment possible."

"Revenge?" Remus asked and took one of Severus's hands between his own, surely knowing that Severus had not been talking only about Potter. "It is a vile sentiment, it might be sweet at first but… the aftertaste is bitter."

"Wasn't it you who told me something about the aftertaste of a sweet experience being unimportant?" Severus retorted with a smirk and Remus chuckled.

"Yes, alright, but that was different. I… I'm horrified at the thought that I could lose my whole being… all emotion, all memory…"

"I doubt that you will ever come close to that experience," said Severus quietly, hoping rather than knowing it. Hoping that the soul he was loved by would never be stolen or destroyed by anything or anyone. It would mean his own soul's death, too. "Werewolf souls are said to be rather bad tasting," he added and Remus chuckled again.

"I just don't think a child should say such a thing. It was as if Harry knew what Sirius has done. Although he cannot know, Dumbledore said that he wasn't told about Sirius's betrayal," Remus said after a long pause.

"McGonagall and the others had a talk about it when they were visiting the Three Broomsticks… Perhaps his friends overheard the conversation," Severus offered and Remus nodded slowly.

"Perhaps…" he mumbled, then smiled slightly. "Harry has his broomstick back, by the way. Minerva's told me."

Severus scowled. "That must make you happy of course," he growled and made the werewolf laugh.

"See? It wasn't hexed, jinxed or cursed. Just a very nice gift. A gift that might just bring Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup if your team doesn't watch out, Severus!"

The Potions master shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Would you refrain from taking sides?" he snarled.

"You do, too! And you certainly didn't complain when I was cheering on Slytherin last game!" Remus protested.

"I am supposed to take sides, as a Head of House!"

"Right, I forgot. I just keep forgetting that you are indeed Head of House… it is so… unlike you," Remus said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean to say?" Severus said and pulled his hand away from the werewolf's.

"I mean, you are responsible for the wellbeing of many children, aren't you? You have to listen to their woes and you have to talk to their parents and give them Career's Advice and so on. When I see you, I see a man who is not all too fond of his students, who wishes to be left alone and in peace instead of having to deal with children's troubles. That is why I was surprised to hear that you are Head of House," Remus explained, trying to take hold of Severus's hand again. "But then again… probably you like your Slytherins, right? You like things in them that you like in yourself. Because they're Slytherins like yourself."

"You might be right," Severus said, letting Remus take his hand. "Other than you I am quite selective as to who I put my liking in. You are much more generous in that field, you like all of your students, don't you?"

"Yes… though Draco is a little annoying at times, no respect for his elders," Remus chuckled and Severus felt his breath so close to his ear again. "Well, I guess he cannot help it. Education."

"Like father, like son," Severus agreed and dearly hoped that that didn't apply to himself. A gentle hand brushed the curtain of black hair out of his face and Severus turned to look at the werewolf whose mild eyes were maddeningly serene and calming.

"If my friends had seen me cheering on Slytherin in January… they would have been very furious," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over Severus's cheekbone.

"Would you have stopped?" Severus asked.

"No, I would have told them that I liked cheering on Slytherin, although – or maybe because – their Seeker was somewhat blind, their Beaters were far too fierce and rough, and their Chasers were too timid. After all, their Keeper provided a safe, firm hold. So I would have told them to sod off," Remus answered and kissed Severus lightly. On Friday morning Severus greeted the werewolf, who had fallen asleep curled up at his side, with a cup of very sweet tea. All night the Slytherin had stayed awake, fighting sleep so he wouldn't have to loosen his firm hold around the other's shoulders.

The game on Saturday went disastrous, of course. Not only did Gryffindor win (after a horribly long time of Remus cheering them on under his breath in his seat next to Severus, turning and squirming as if he were sitting on a broom himself), no, Draco and his brainless friends played Dementor and walked onto the pitch (he would let them clean cauldrons by hand, and make sure to let his students brew especially sticky potions next week). And as if that hadn't been enough annoying and house-humiliating occurrences, the Potter boy conjured some wispy mass of an almost-Patronus which impressed the werewolf so much that he ran down onto the pitch immediately to congratulate him in such a disgustingly fatherly manner that the Potions master had to turn away. Severus was fuming when he swept after Dumbledore to McGonagall who was screaming at Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Slytherin's soon to be ex-Quidditch team captain Flint who had lost their house an extraordinary number of points, the morons.

After shooting them all some deathly glares and letting McGonagall rant at him for not being able to control his students ("As if I were the only one whose students are out of bounds! Strange that the Gryffindors always receive points for breaking the rules!" he snapped which only lengthened the rants about her students acting with the motive of boldness and for the right reasons and not like his out of malice and with foul tricks; what was he to retort, really?) he glided off into his dungeons and was met at the gates to the Entrance Hall by a beaming Remus Lupin, hands in his pockets, the white of his teeth just as blinding as the snow that surrounded him.

"Good game, don't you think, Severus?" he called. "I found especially entertaining the little show near the end."

Severus sent him his most dangerous glare. "Do not try my patience, Professor Lupin," he growled when he passed him and Remus hurried to keep up with his angry strides.

"Oh, come on, Severus, it was just a joke. Don't take it so seriously," he smiled and followed the Slytherin all the way down into his quarters where Severus turned to face him, his hands stemmed into his sides. The last thing he needed in his rooms now, where he wanted to relax and find peace after the stress of the morning, was an all too smug and happy Gryffindor, sitting on his sofa with his back so straight that it could be used as a table. But no, not smug, proud was the right word.

"And what exactly do you want here?" he snapped and Remus raised his eyebrows.

"Why, celebrate, of course," he said and received a look that would have made anyone else burst into flames on the very spot. "Or at least, um, have a cup of tea… as you have well stated the other day, I may not take sides, therefore I may not celebrate and can as well stay with you and watch you sulk. Maybe I'll even manage to cheer you up."

"McGonagall, I am sure, would appreciate your company in her own celebrations over whiskey and shortbread, why do you not honour her with your cheery presence?" Severus snarled, annoyed at the way the other's tattered scarf (so he did possess one!) slipped off his neck, revealing so much skin that it put him off for a moment.

"Oh, she would never approve. And to be honest… I'd rather be with you. It's quiet, that's very nice after the exhilarating noise of a Quidditch match," Remus replied and reached behind Severus who was barring the door to his rooms with his body, turned the knob and pushed against Severus's chest to force him into the room, making him protest only half-heartedly.

Severus watched as Remus shed his outer robe and laid it over the back rest of one of the armchairs by the empty fireplace. The werewolf hadn't been in his rooms very often and only in the sitting room; nevertheless he seemed rather comfortable as he sat down on the sofa and pulled on Severus's sleeve to make him sit down beside him. Remus pressed his side close to Severus's, shivering with the freezing cold of the dungeon and Severus raised his wand to set fire in the grate.

They sat in silence for a very long while, only the fire was whispering until the rustling of Remus's robes attracted Severus's attention; the other man was loosening his cravat and his collar slid apart to reveal that pale skin which felt just like silk when touched. And, oh, how Severus wanted to touch it. Just reach out and run his yellowish fingers over it. His fingers, stained with potions and ingredients, his fingers which had touched many a disgusting object, which had let the magic surge through them and had directed it at many a man or woman to strike and kill. Touch this pure white skin, scarred with the signs of agony caused by a werewolf's desperate determination to suffer instead of tearing apart, the signs of what made them so similar. The silky skin, marred like the silky soul inside that lithe body. The beauty of it matched the werewolf's inner one, mild and delicate, careful and understanding; just as Severus's sallow skin and his deathly pallor mirrored the foul ugliness of his personality. The werewolf was beautiful in and out and Severus was ugly, there was no inner beauty that could make him attractive despite his outer appearance, it was as if his looks showed what was inside, like the glass jars in his office showed their horrible contents. Severus might find use for them but hadn't the other been appalled by them the very first time he had been to his office? Not that Severus would ever have cared, but now he did.

He didn't dare touch Remus at all. Just stared at the palms of his hands. Cold and empty. A thrill ran through his body when Remus's knee touched his, when his left palm was filled with Remus's right hand, warm and reassuring.

"What are you brooding about again?" Remus's hoarse voice asked. A quick glance at the other was too much already, his eyes had been caught and even though the Potions master looked away again quickly he knew that Remus had seen something, everything probably. He wanted to withdraw his hand but his arm wouldn't comply. He scowled at his shoes and kneaded his brow with his right hand.

"Nothing," he growled between clenched teeth, angry with the other for making him feel so insufficient all the time. For making him want but not dare. He wasn't a Gryffindor, he wasn't daring, he didn't rush into anything without contemplation; and that always made him falter. He would never have believed that one day he would wish for those Gryffindor traits: Chivalry, to impress and attract; Daring, to act on his impulse and plunge into unknown rooms by bursting open heavy doors that might be locked or slammed shut in his very face; Bravery, to make advances and say all the things that didn't reach his lips; and Nerve, to see all of it and more through. Now he did wish for all of that. Maybe he possessed it in times of war, but he couldn't transfer it to this situation. He wished he could. He wished for anything that would drive the unworthy feeling from his body.

"You wanted tea?" he muttered and waved his wand to make two cups and a kettle appear. He could sense Remus's tension at his change of subject but the werewolf just hummed in agreement, accepting the cup that hovered into his hands.

Remus got up and walked over to one of the windows where there stood a low, spindly-legged table with black and white tiles to play chess on. He considered it for a while before he turned to the Potions master with a smile. "What about chess?" he asked pleasantly.

Severus followed him and opened a drawer under the tabletop to take out two bags of chess pieces. "You won't stand a chance against me," Severus said drily, a faint smirk on his lips.

"We will see," Remus replied, sitting down at the table. "You begin."

As the werewolf opened the bag of black chess pieces there was a noisy scream of protest from them. A werewolf to command the troops? And look at his robes! But Master Snape must be out of his mind! Didn't they always serve him well? What kind of treatment was that? Severus grew livid at their respectless calls but Remus just chuckled, prodding the little king in the back to make him walk to his place with furious screams; only when Severus had silenced them with the threat of giving them to Hagrid's boarhound as chewing toys if they didn't stop behaving disrespectfully towards Master Lupin, could they finally start playing (not without a few snide remarks from the white pieces directed at the black ones, very much like Severus's own would have sounded).

"I see your chess pieces have adapted your sharp tongue," Remus smiled and Severus rolled his eyes. "Thank you but I think I know what I am doing, now, would you please move on to where I said?" he added, amused at the little knight, trying to tell him that he would strongly recommend to send him somewhere else if he didn't want him to be doomed.

Severus was a strategically skilled player and hard to beat so it surprised him that Remus had almost checkmated him four times (accompanied by the pathetic wailing of the white king) before Severus finally found a gap in his defences to slip through and get his king. It took him an hour to beat the werewolf which hurt him a little in his pride but at least he had won.

"Not a chance. You were absolutely right, Severus," Remus smiled and folded his arms across his chest.

"Ah, yes," replied Severus lazily, "I had forgotten that to you Gryffindors it is not only the result that counts. 'It does not matter that I lost, at least I put up a good fight!' Is that what makes you so proud when you look upon the boy?"

Remus rested his chin on his hands and considered him carefully. "What of his father do you see in him that makes you hate him so?"

Severus snorted irritably. "How many times do we have to talk about that?" he snapped. "I see this arrogant boy strutting about the castle, admired by everyone for his talent at Quidditch and the defeat of the Dark Lord that was not even his own achievement! Loved by all, Mr Potter, and enjoying it thoroughly with that inflated head of his, respectless and ungrateful. And you ask me what of his father I see in him? Why, everything, Remus, all about him!"

Remus kept quiet for a while receiving the reproachful glares from his chess pieces, half of which were limping or leaning on each other or holding their heads. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. "Jealousy is not necessary, Severus."

"I am not –" Severus protested but was interrupted as Remus carried on.

"Not for my job, or the Potters' popularity and talent at Quidditch or even Gilderoy Glamour Boy's good looks." He paused with a slight smile when Severus shot him a deathly glare mixed with appalled incredulity.

"Why would I be jealous?" he growled and Remus nodded.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Severus. You have no reason," he said firmly and touched his cheek. "None at all."

Severus stared at him, his eyes shackled to Remus's golden pools, and he wondered just what the other saw in him that made him say such things. And whether he would like to be told such things, too. After a few moments he rose, averting his eyes and smoothing out his robes as he turned away from the table and the werewolf.

"If you'll excuse me," he said quietly, running the side of his thumb over his forehead, "I have to get a bit of work done."

"Will you brew?" Remus asked and as Severus nodded over his shoulder he continued, "Would it be alright if I stayed? I like the sound of your brewing and the smell."

Severus turned again in startled surprise. "Is that so?" he asked trying to sound sarcastic instead of amazed. Remus smiled and took his tea cup to sit back down on the sofa. "Well… alright, but you will not disturb me. And do not touch anything in my absence!" Remus chuckled and shrugged and Severus went into his lab, leaving the door ajar.

Now and then Severus stole a glance at the other sitting on the sofa with outstretched legs and closed eyes, ears twitching at the sound of the chopping knife in Severus's hand. When he listened closely he could make out Remus's even breathing until the simmering of the cauldrons grew too loud. As soon as he had lost the sound he found himself hurrying to be able to return to the one who was waiting for him in his sitting room, waiting for him to finish his work and sit next to him; the unknown feeling of being home was insuppressible.

Nevertheless dark had already fallen and lunch and dinner had been missed when Severus emerged from his lab and found Remus still in his place and eyes still closed. The only time he had moved had been to bring Severus a platter with sandwiches to make sure he ate something. Severus had been grateful and oddly touched by the caring act and he had kissed Remus very tenderly and run his hand slowly over his spine to the small of his back, neglecting one of his cauldrons for almost a little too long. The werewolf, after having eaten a sandwich of his own, had resumed his earlier position and now it looked as if he had never left it. Severus wondered if he might have fallen asleep and gripped the backrest just behind his ear.

"You finished?" Remus muttered hoarsely and Severus withdrew his hand. "You going to sit with me again?"

Severus stepped round the sofa and lowered himself beside the werewolf who cracked one eye open to peer at him with a sleepy smile.

"I still have to grade some papers," Severus said and earned a tired sigh.

"Alright. Would you mind my staying?"

"No… do stay if you like," Severus replied dismissively and summoned a pile of scrolls of parchment.

"You know, Severus… I'm so relaxed now… I could fall asleep on the spot."

And that was what he did only minutes later, sliding to the left and onto Severus's shoulder, making the Potions master's quill quiver and spill a stain of red ink onto Fred Weasley's not-too-bad Potions essay. Severus took a deep breath, vanished the stain and scratched on, for how long he didn't know, time seemed to be non-existent with the werewolf's breath against his ear.

It must have been well past one in the morning when he was finally finished and vanished the parchment with a tired flick of his wand which rose Remus whose head slipped off Severus's shoulder. Resting his elbows on his knees Remus rubbed his eyes groggily and passed a hand over his neck; Severus's eyes were glued to the pale skin once again. Before he could prevent it his thoughts had wandered off and underneath the tattered robes trying to imagine what exactly was hidden under them, apart from the neck and arms and collarbones. And would the other show it to him? To him? And did he want to show Remus what was hidden under his own robes in exchange? He wasn't sure. Though Remus had already seen the ugliest part of him. When his hand moved towards Remus's temple and took a slightly curled lock of golden grey hair between thumb and index finger his black eyes narrowed, his fingers sliding down the soft strand, his knuckles touching the silky skin, so white against the yellow stains on his own.

Severus made to withdraw his hand but it was caught by one of Remus's and the golden drills of Remus's eyes bored into the stony granite of Severus's.

"Don't falter," Remus whispered, suddenly wide awake again. "There is no need."

And then Severus saw something in those usually so confident and strong eyes that surprised him; a weak flicker, weary, even frightful, quickly suppressed again by a short blink but definitely present as if it had slipped from behind a curtain. A nervous smile followed, covered up just as quickly. Severus raised an eyebrow. Remus chuckled.

"You are the most intimidating, Severus," he said, his voice very firm and void of the emotions he had lost control of. "Thank Merlin I'm a Gryffindor. It's not the glares or the words or even the temper. It's like chess with you. Whenever I make a move it must be contemplated carefully, I must study you intently to prevent being checkmated already before the second move. And in the end I'm afraid you might beat me. Being better at games. Especially now that you know how I play… in no time, all my pieces might lie beside the board broken."

Severus considered him. "I am sure that you will never run out of queens, while all I have is pawns that I try hard not to move too fiercely," he said quietly and raised Remus's chin. "But this is not a game."

"Glad you said that," smiled Remus. "No, it is not." The werewolf turned his head into Severus's hand and when it slid down to the collar of his robes, tracing his jaw, Severus shook his head.

"Stop it, Severus," Remus said seriously and the Slytherin looked up in bewildered agitation.

"What?" he snapped, seeing Remus's strangely stern face. A gentle hand came to rest on his cheek and he could barely resist the urge to press into it.

"You know what I mean… I said do not falter. There is no need for it. And I meant it when I said it."

Severus knew that yet again Remus had seen through him and knew exactly what he was thinking; it seemed as if he were clutching at his yellow hand to make him see that he didn't care at all. That he saw something that the others and even Severus himself couldn't see in him. Such a foolhardy man he was. So unreasonable and so good.

"You are really the most hopeless fool ever to have walked the stony floors of this castle," Severus said quietly and Remus chuckled.

"The most hopeless fool ever to have walked the stony path of your soul, my dear," Remus croaked and Severus let his fingers ghost over his red lips.

"This is so unreal," he muttered when Remus smiled in contentment. Severus pulled open the werewolf's cravat, letting it slide down Remus's neck. His fingers found the opening of the Gryffindor's collar and traced the tendons of the slender neck. Severus closed his eyes at the sensation and let Remus lean in to rest his forehead against his own when spidery fingers brushed the werewolf's collarbones and the deep hollow in their midst and pushed aside the annoying fabric to get better access to the silky, marred skin in the crook of Remus's neck. As one of his cold hands came to rest in the nape of Remus's neck their lips were drawn together by some kind of magnetic force and Severus could barely stifle a moan when the werewolf pulled him closer and on top of him as he leant back against the armrest cupping Severus's face with his gentle hands.

With a little start Severus realised that this was by far the most physically intimate moment they had ever shared, even more so than those after the full moons, at least to him. And with yet another start he realised what this could result in. He had never really thought about it, too distant and too absurd had it seemed to him. Just like the possibility of Remus wanting to kiss him. Which had proven rather less absurd and distant in the end. Remus's soft moan, as Severus deepened the kiss further, was otherworldly beautiful. He didn't even notice the utter loss of his usual scowling countenance when he ran his fingers through that soft hair, when two delicate arms snaked around his neck, when he tried to merge his sallow skin with the pure silk under his burning fingers. Breathing had long been forgotten.

When Remus ran out of air he broke the kiss, panting, curling lanky coal black hair round his fingers. His smile seemed to flood his eyes and he didn't make an effort to hide the weak gleam in them now, the nervousness that his trained voice was so void of. "You're like snow, Severus," he breathed, "white and cold to the bare touch, and you melt on my skin."

And Severus did melt when their lips brushed once more and he pulled the cravat off Remus's shoulders. Or he would have melted, had they not been cruelly interrupted. A furious knock on the door of his laboratory made Severus start and both men shot up into a sitting position staring at the distant wooden door, miles away from where they were catching their breaths.

"Severus!" a woman's voice cried. "Severus, open quick!"

Severus jumped up and as he reached for his wand, the silken cravat slid out of his hand and fell to the floor. That blasted witch! He would get rid of her quickly to get back to the moment of… whatever it was with Remus. He smoothed his robes and hair and wrenched open the door, blocking the view into his rooms.

"What is it in the middle of the night?" he snapped irritably but when he saw the look of terror on McGonagall's face he fell silent.

"It's Sirius Black again, Severus! He's broken into the castle! With a knife! I'm rising all the other teachers right now!"

Severus stared and heard the rustle of robes from behind his back, Remus had stirred, was straining his ears most likely. But… he was there. In the dungeons. With Severus. Had been there all the time.

"What do you mean? He has broken in again? But how?" he asked in bewilderment and its origin was very clear to him.

"I don't know! All I know is that that irresponsible maniac Cadogan let him inside Gryffindor Tower!" A gasp in the sitting room, the ruffling of what seemed to be two hands in tousled hair. "And now we need to search the castle for him. Have you any idea where Remus is? I've been to his quarters but he didn't open."

Just when Severus opened his mouth the door was pulled open by a scarred hand. "I'm here, Minerva, I couldn't sleep so I asked Severus for a Sleeping Draught," said Remus hoarsely, his eyes bright with something that hadn't been caused by Severus's kisses. Minerva stared at the pair of them, her lips forming a silent 'oh'. "But what happened? How's Harry?" the werewolf added with – what was that in his voice? – guilt?

Minerva recovered quickly from her stunned silence and nodded. "The boy's alright. No one was hurt. Black went to the wrong bed. Ron Weasley would have been at the receiving end of his knife, had he not screamed and woken all the others. At first I thought it had all been just a bad dream, but Cadogan confirmed it. Longbottom left the passwords lying about and Black must have found them. That boy is a catastrophe."

Remus had listened to her account silently, but at the fact that Black had got the wrong bed he went tense and shook his head to himself. As if he couldn't believe that Black hadn't just killed all the boys, as the mass murderer he was. Or because… was that possibly disappointment? Anger? The werewolf passed a hand over his face and when McGonagall turned to leave they both assured her that they would go searching for Black.

Severus slammed the door shut and Remus hurried into the sitting room to gather up his outer robe. Severus watched him with narrowed eyes and when the other turned he wouldn't meet his black stare. Severus couldn't stop himself when he looked at the deserted sofa and Remus's fully dressed state. Black wasn't in the castle anymore such a long time after the attempted attack, there was no need to hurry; what was more, Severus didn't want to search the castle, for once staying here with him was more important than the mere chance of hexing Black to shreds; and his mood dropped considerably when Remus, who obviously didn't share his desire to stay, wanted to floo back to his rooms instead of resuming his seat on the sofa; his suspicious behaviour made him angry. No, he couldn't stop himself from saying what was on his mind.

"But you were here," he said quietly and Remus whirled round, understanding in an instant what he was implying. His face darkened.

"You are suspecting me?" said he, slightly agitated. "But from this morning on you never lost sight of me! How can you possibly believe that I –"

"Active help might be out of the question… but nevertheless… I think you know something about it," Severus interrupted him, thinking for a split second of how perfect an alibi this had given the werewolf.

Remus stared at him, hands shaking, eyebrows knitted and apparently absolutely speechless. Then he gave a shaky laugh and turned a little rubbing his forehead with a false smile that was replaced by a terribly disappointed frown when he faced Severus again.

"Why don't you trust me?" he asked calmly. "Is a little trust too much to ask?"

Severus glared at him. "I do not trust easily. I am careful. I trust Dumbledore… but I do not trust anyone else. And you do behave rather suspiciously. I cannot give you what you require," Severus replied just as calmly.

"I am sure that you thought the same thing about other things you gave to me. How can you be with me and suspect me at the same time?" Remus said sadly and took a handful of Floo powder from a tin on the mantelpiece.

"The trust you speak of is for naïve fools. And it has nothing to do with our –" he waved his hand helplessly, "– being together."

Remus shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "Of course it has Severus. Relationships do not work without trust. You might be able to kiss me but you won't be able to live with me. How – how can you possibly love me if you still believe me to be a traitor, a criminal? How can you love me if you do not have the trust to believe me?"

"I never said that I love you," Severus's lips had formed the words before he knew it. He felt an unpleasantly cold chill when he saw Remus's expression change from despair into shock and back into calm disappointment.

"No, indeed," the werewolf said, his voice unusually cold, "but as you know, fortunately for you and me, I speak Snapish." His brow creased then and his voice became pleading, cutting into Severus's very soul. "Please. I'd give you anything. All of me. What about you? It is your move."

He tossed the powder into the fire and stepped into the green flames vanishing in the depths of the burning embers. Severus stared after him, his unfocused stare on the bricks in the back of the fireplace. He wanted all. All of him. But now it felt as if it were just out of reach. Remus wanted trust, but trust was the one thing Severus could not give, was too… scared to give, too Slytherin and too bitter to give. He wanted to give it. But something always seemed to make him back away. Black for instance. Memories. Life.

Severus turned away from the fireplace and buried his face in his hands. It was his move and the only thing he was sure of was how to checkmate and put an end to it all. It seemed as if the heat of the fire in his back didn't even penetrate him, as if it were being repelled by his black robes and his hard skin. As if the supply of Remus's warmth that he had stored inside of himself had run dry forever.