title: lykanthrophobia

by: earthenkynder

rating: pg-13, for some really light swearing in the beginning, i just want to be safe.

disclaimer: all these characters belong to the goddess j.k. rowling. if they were mine, i wouldn't be sharing them with you ;)

a/n: i know that this will be a snape/lupin fic eventually (sorry if that squicks you, but consider yourself warned) but i'm not exactly sure where it's going. i couldn't find an actual phobia of werewolves, but the original phobias came from greek, so i just made one up using a greek-english dictionary. anyway, enjoy, and please r&r.

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ch. 1

5th year

Professor Snape swept along the hallway, a potion-filled goblet in his hand, his black robes billowing out behind him. First Albus lets that damned werewolf back into the school, and now he expects me to start researching a cure for him, all while continuing to make his bloody lycanthropy potion! He scowled at the thought, and some little Ravenclaw first-years who had been gathered in the hallway scattered as he swept past them.

He reached the door to the DADA room. Rapping on it sharply, he called out "Lupin? Are you in there?"

"One moment," Lupin's voice called back. Snape heard a shuffling coming towards the door, and a second later the door opened to reveal Lupin's tired but smiling face, and behind him, Neville Longbottom, waving his wand around and practising counter curses.

"Severus," Lupin greeted him warmly. "We were just in the middle of a tutoring session," he explained unnessecarily, stepping back to allow Snape to enter the room.

"Do you realise what time it is?" Snape growled, motioning to the window.

"Oh, dear. I'm afraid I hadn't," Lupin said faintly as he glimpsed the dusk which had fallen, a shadow passing over his face. He turned to Neville, who had gone pale as soon as Snape had entered the room. "Well, then, I'm a bit late for something, we'll have finish this tomorrow," he said, smiling kindly at the boy.

Neville nodded jerkily, his eyes occasionally darting to where Snape stood glowering at him. Unfortunately, his nervousness caused him to take twice as long as he normally would have in gathering up his things. Snape grew more and more impatient as Neville dropped his books four times before getting them in a pile, then slipped on his wand, which had rolled off the table, and proceeded to drop the books a fifth time. And it didn't help Snape's patience that Lupin was growing paler at an alarming rate, starting to clutch at his stomach in pain.

Neville finally got himself collected, and was hurrying to the door when Lupin began involuntarily grinding his teeth. "Professor, are you alright?" Neville asked timidly.

"He's fine," Snape, who was getting a bit frantic by now, growled. "Now get out."

Neville's eyes widened, and in his haste to comply, he tripped over his own two feet. He cried out when he fell, and as his wand-hand hit the ground, a bright red spark flew out of the end. It hit the closest wall and ricocheted off, bouncing around the room at a blinding speed, until finally striking Snape's hand, causing him to cry out in pain and drop the goblet he was holding. Lupin, despite the painful convulsions he was having, froze as the potion in the goblet splashed out onto the floor. Standing beside him, clutching his hand in pain, Snape also froze, becoming a horridly pale colour. Emitting a tiny squeak, Neville left his books and, fearing Snape's wrath, scrambled out the door, kicking it shut as he got into the hallway. Snape and Lupin looked at each other with dawning horror. There was a fear in Lupin's eyes as he backed away from Snape that made Snape's own fear seem almost insignificant. But as Lupin's face began to elongate and grow into a muzzle, Snape's terror grew, too.

The rest of the transformation was relatively quick. Snape didn't want to attract the werewolf's attention, but he couldn't help but whimper slightly as he slowly backed towards the door. Don't run, don't run, don't run… he knew that it would only make him seem like prey to the pain-stricken werewolf, but ever since his 6th year, he had had a not-so-inexplicable fear of werewolves. He at least had the presence of mind to pull his wand out of his robes, gripping it tightly in his hand.

Unfortunately, the Lupin-wolf was quite aware of Snape's presence, and leapt at him with a terrible howl. Snape darted backwards, raising his wand at the same time, but it was knocked out of his hand by the lunging wolf, and Snape was sent to the ground, sprawled on the floor with the Lupin-wolf pinning him down. Snape froze, his breath knocked out of him, too afraid to move, and the werewolf took the opportunity to dart his muzzle down towards Snape's jugular. Snape snapped out of his trance , and pulled his head out of the way just in time. The wolf missed his neck, but the sharp fangs plunged into Snape's shoulder. Snape screamed at the intense pain, and was suddenly overcome with a strange burning, stinging sensation that coursed through him.

Through the rushing sound filling his ears, he could hear the door slamming open, a few people shrieking, and a shouted curse of some sort. He instantly felt the wolf's weight lifted off of him, and a dull thud from the other side of the room was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.