Only the Wind

By Unseen

Disclaimer: I don't own no one. They're all free people anyways. Weeelllll… nah… not really. Pity, though.

A/N: Right, this is my first fanfic ever, so please be indulgent… please . This is a really TAME story that I wrote one evening while listening to Danny Elfman's music for Edward Scissorhands. Hence the snow. And I was feeling rather depressed too. Still, this may turn out slashy in the second part, and the rating will change accordingly.. R&R please!

Ah… yes, I know it's not really good. But I had to start SOMEWHERE, hadn't I?

1 Part One

Remus Lupin was sitting at the window, his stooping figure clearly outlined against the oppressively white scenery outside. It was one of those cold winter days, when even the sharp cold is somewhat dulled by the suffocatingly low clouds and the painfully grey luminosity. But the werewolf wasn't looking out. Nor was he looking anywhere, really; he was only lost in thought.

Almost Christmas. Again. Not that it really mattered, he reflected. Christmas would go just as it had gone every single year, in loneliness. At least he wouldn't be shifting, this time. He sighed deeply, looking more exhausted than ever. He would be in no condition to even step out of his room for the school banquet, and questions would be asked amongst the staff. And he'd have to lie again and again to shield himself from the disgust and fear of some of his fellow professors. It had seemed so simple last year… His amber eyes blurred for a second. No use thinking of it, really. He laughed bitterly. Only last Christmas had been different… No, don't. Don't think about it. Last Christmas never happened. Nor did last year, for that matter.

Knocking at the door. Remus jumped nervously, taken aback. A flash of recollection, mixed with pain and regret, crossed his face. He shifted slightly to face the heavy oaken door and, clearing his throat, he called in a slightly altered voice: "Come in". Get a grip on yourself, man. You mustn't let people see you like this. They'll ask questions. Don't spoil it all. He straightened up and squared his shoulders, correcting his previously stooping posture and brushing back his greying hair as the door creaked back on its hinges. He inhaled sharply, preparing for the shock that always hit him as hard, even after three months.

A strikingly young man entered the room, bearing a leaden goblet filled with a nauseating-smelling potion. Wolfsbane potion. He put it down on Remus' desk without a word, and smiled sympathetically. It used not to taste so bad when Severus made it, he noted as he gulped down the scalding mixture, his stomach lurching in protest. Then again, the new potions master did not have the skills of Professor Snape, and he had probably never heard of Wolfsbane potion before Dumbledore mentioned it, adding that the preparation instructions and formulas would probably be found in Severus'personal notes.

That was not surprising, considering the potion was Snape's own invention. After much experimenting, he had finally succeeded in making the taste bearable… Remus smiled at the memory… Severus, sleek black hair flowing in ripples on his shoulders, stirring restlessly his experiment cauldron, adding a pinch of this, a sprinkle of that, his attentive midnight-black eyes never straying from his work, except when they turned towards him questioningly for his opinion as to the result. Three hours later, he had finally given up, sweat trickling down his forehead, his robes clinging to his body, utterly exhausted and dissatisfied.

And then the next morning, when the ritual knocking had come at his door, Remus had seen a mischievous-looking Severus entering, the dark circles under his eyes betraying absence of sleep, bearing the goblet like a crown jewel, and sneering proudly at him "Surprise…". But that was only three months ago, so he never had the chance to write it down, because…. Remus couldn't help glancing dejectedly at the young man standing in front of him. He muttered a choked "thank you" and averted his eyes.

His eyes stared unseeing through the book on his lap as memories and emotions flooded back to him. Incapable of stopping the flow, he let himself drown into it. Anger, pain, regret washed over him as he let himself be immersed in images from the past. A few days before last Christmas, he had been looking out of the window, on a day very similar to now. Only that day, he could see a dark figure progressing evenly over the snow towards the forest, which he barely identified as Severus'. Curious as to where his secretive colleague could be going, he had thrown on a cloak and gone after him…