A/N: Hi again! Chapter 3 is up! Now things are starting to fall into place…. Well.. you don't really know what happened yet, but where would the fun be?

I want to thank you all for your reviews, it's really heart-warming to see that people read what you blurt out on the net… Ah, yes.. I made this story up after having written the beginning on a mad impulse, so I guess there may be a few loose ends.. well, I tried to avoid then anyway!

As to the great issue of "To slash or not to slash.." Well, my apologies to both Kimagure AND Tatiana.. for this will be neither ! I'm trying to please everyone at once (you can interpret their relationship just as you like, it'll e ambiguous enough. I never was one for writing lemon, anyways.. ().

To Kimagure also.. you're wrong there.. I've come up with a much more satisfying explanation of the wolf carving, plotwise… Hope you like it nonetheless!

For Gilles and Couscous: Only the wind is indeed from the PSB. Love that song. Love all of their songs. ( Ok, I'll add this.. PSB own the title. (grumble.. I own nothing in this fic.)

Blackletter… thanks, Shakespeare is yours. You gave me the idea for this. Ah, yes, I wanted to say I liked your "Reflection of a Shadow". Really weird, but good. It reminds me of a mix between Jekyll and Hyde and Ambrose Bierce. To all of you out there, this is worth reading!

Okay, now I'm done with publicity.. on with it!

Remus looked up sharply from his book as what his eyes had just registered wormed its way into his consciousness. Just like that day over a year ago, a dark cloaked figure was trudging with utmost stubbornness towards the Forbidden Forests. His chair clattered loudly as he jumped up and dashed to the stairs. He almost collided with Madam Pomfrey, who made as if to say something, but only stepped back when she saw the look on his face. The doors burst open, and he was outside. The figure had disappeared.

Remus shuddered from the cold, his head clearing with the crisp early evening air. Why had he rushed out this way? It couldn't be Severus. He knew that. The unidentified stroller probably wasn't even headed for the clearing, since only himself and Dumbledore knew of its existence. Not that it mattered anymore. The carvings had melted in early spring, and once the cold returned, no-one remained to reshape them. Remus sighed. I must be going mad. [Don't say that. You know there's something else. You are linked to this place somehow. Can't deny instinct.] He merely shrugged at the voice in his head and headed back to the school.

[DON'T IGNORE THIS! You know this is where the figure is headed. You have to be there, just in case.]

A hundred alarm bells seemed to go off in his mind, echoing through his brain.

[Remember last time you ignored an impulse?]

The werewolf winced. That was a low blow. Effective, though: he immediately raced towards the tree line. The snow crunched lightly underfoot, his passage leaving almost no noticeable trace on its surface. He relished the feeling of the cold wind against his skin and in his hair, forgetting everything for a few blissful minutes, letting the wolf take control. He found himself doing that more and more since Severus' death…

The clearing was empty when he arrived, slightly breathless from the run. Leaning against one of the massive trunks, hidden by the leaves yet with a perfect view over the opening in front of him, he let the tension ease out of his wiry frame. "Well, here you are, he muttered. Empty. Instinct, eh? I must be going mad…" He sank to the ground, propped against the massive tree.

His eyes still roamed over the clearing, desperately searching for contradiction… which did come. His eyes picked a movement on the other side of the clearing. The cloaked figure he had been trailing furtively slipped into the clearing, then, wand in hand, started pacing it, measuring angles between the marks and trails that were all that remained of Severus' patient and greatest work. His most generous one, too.

Remus walked up to it silently, then spoke, causing the figure to jump up guiltily.

" Professor Simons ? May I inquire as to what you are doing?"

His voice was calm and quiet, as gentlemanly as ever, not showing any of the turmoil of emotions that boiled inside him. Anger, pain, hate, an urge to kick this intruder out of this place he wouldn't ever understand or appreciate for what it was; the greatest proof of friendship and forgiveness ever… going round in circles in his brain so fast it felt like bursting….

"Well I… Simons stuttered, turning a bright red. I came across a few notes of my predecessor, you know, and I thought I ought to check this out. Didn't know you had heard about this place too", he added, embarrassed, his French accent coming up briefly as always in such circumstances. This used to irk Snape no end, Remus remembered.

Flashback///

"Little moron, grumbled a grumpy Snape as he entered Remus' office one evening for their ritual brandy after dinner.

This had turned into quite a habit over the last month… The evening after Remus' intrusion, he had come to apologise, and this time Severus couldn't help but be amiable. He couldn't remember how things had got to that point, really, but he couldn't complain… He and the DADA teacher shared many common interests besides their mutual dire need for company.

Shakespeare. Yes, it has started with Shakespeare. That evening, Severus had been reading from his worn out copy of Hamlet, and just as Remus was about to leave, embarrassed and confused at the Potions Master's unusual behaviour, (he had smiled, for God's sake!!), he had spotted it on his desk and made a comment about having seen a Muggle adaptation recently on video. It turned out that Snape was un-Slytherin enough to appreciate Muggle acting, and it was agreed that he would come to see it the following evening in the werewolf's quarters. From then on, several nights were passed in the quiet company of each other, talking into the late hours of night.

"Surely he can't be that bad, Severus… Be patient with him, he only graduated last spring. And from Beauxbatons, too, which you must admit is far from being of Hogwarts' standards…"

The Potions Master was forced to smile at his colleague's tolerance and calm. He moaned:

"Jesus, I can't believe he chose to study Potions! He has absolutely no predisposition whatsoever, can't stand to study a book for more than half an hour, and obviously has no notions of the subtleties of potions making. He so awfully cheerful and healthy I feel like I were on a Quidditch field all day."

"You never did like Quidditch, did you? Come to think of it, I never did either." He grinned. "Won't you sit down ?"

Curiously enough, Severus let the topic of his assistant's latest exploits, which never failed to make Remus and him laugh, and sat uneasily on the high-backed armchair next to Remus'. He looked grave for a moment, then cleared his throat…

"Remus, I have been meaning to tell you… I don't want you taking Wolfsbane potion anymore." That was not an easy thing to say, but he had to. "You may even have to leave Hogwarts, but believe me, things cannot continue this way."

Remus was silent, digesting the blow. He looked in earnest at his colleague, but Severus' face was lost in shadow, his expression inscrutable. Words rushed to his lips. What would he do? Use the Shrieking Shack again, bite and tear at himself like the wild animal he was once a month, be a threat to everyone around? Leave Hogwarts, and live a nomad's life, moving from town to town fast enough never to be found out? That potion of Severus' had been the gift of his like, the one thing which enabled him at last to live an almost steady life. Yet of all this, all that reached his lips was a quiet, almost inaudible "Why?"

He thought he could hear Severus take in breath sharply. "Remus.. do you know what is the potion's active principle?"

The other man merely nodded his ignorance..

"Silver." It was uttered expressionlessly, in calm, steady voice, which made Remus want to scream.

Then in a whisper which was nothing like is precedent tone: "I'm doing this for your own good, you know…it poisons your blood, little by little… would kill you on the long run…" Severus's voice broke. He leapt from his seat, patted the frozen werewolf briefly on the shoulder and stormed out of the room.

"Damn", he cursed, once out. He would never forget Remus' faintly shaking hands as he destroyed his new-found security. Maybe he should have told him about the carvings…

A/N: Me again.. ok, I'm working on the next chapter and I'll try to post it soon.. you'll find out about those mysterious ice carvings and learn a few things about lycanthropy.. does that sound good to you people?