As usual, Snape was among the first of those to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast. When he had to dine in the presence of the others, he far preferred to do so while it was relatively quiet. He loathed having to sit and make small talk with his fellow Professors while they ate, often finding himself making his excuses and leaving his own meal half eaten in a desperate attempt to escape from their mind numbing chatter.

Taking his seat, he looked down at the room that lay out before him. The four house tables, much like the one he sat at, were already laden with breakfast foods and drinks to suit every preference, even the most difficult to please. Very few students had arrived, however among those that had were a handful of eager looking Ravenclaws who were grouped together at the far end of their table, huddled and whispering among themselves while stealing hesitant glances towards the teacher's table and Snape. Immediately recognising one of the students as the girl whom he reprimanded the previous day, Snape glared back at them, menace in his dark eyes, and watched with a swell of satisfaction as they pulled apart and ate the remainder of their breakfast in silence. Smirking to himself, he surveyed the table in front of him, trying to decide what his stomach felt able to handle this morning.

Finally deciding on a slice of toast, Snape nibbled absently on it while his anxious eyes watched the door for signs of Lupin's arrival. Part of him hated this morning ritual, how he craved to see the other man, each moment seemingly taking longer than the one before. He hated that he was a slave to him, more so that he was a willing slave. If there was anything that Snape prided himself on it was being reliant on no one and nothing, however Lupin destroyed this comfort and the fact that he was blissfully unaware of this did nothing to appease Snape's annoyance; in fact, it only served to intensify it.

Moments that seemed more like months passed and finally Snape's patience was rewarded as he caught a glimpse of the tired and worn figure of Lupin as he emerged through the tall, open doorway. Ignoring the constriction in his chest that accompanied the sight, Snape watched his quarry through lowered lids as he made his way to the teacher's table, stopping occasionally on the way to chat amiably with students; wishing them a good morning and asking them how their assignments were coming along and if they required any assistance.

From his distance at the table, Snape watched as Lupin's eyes twinkled as he talked animatedly with the Gryffindor trio, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. How Snape despised those children. Potter, arrogant and self absorbed like his father; Weasley as stupid and ridiculous as the rest of his family, and Granger, the insufferable know-it-all who never missed an opportunity to open her mouth and show off her vast knowledge of apparently everything.

Sneering malevolently, Snape felt a pang of bitterness as he observed the scene before his eyes. It was clear that Lupin had a fondness for the Potter boy, hardly surprising when he resembled his father so closely, in appearance as well as personality in Snape's opinion. Lupin missed his old friend greatly, and no doubt having Potter there was something of a comfort to him, perhaps even feeling some obligation to take care of the boy now that he was an orphan.

But who takes care of Lupin? Snape thought angrily to himself. I do. Does he notice this though? Of course not.

Snorting he picked up a goblet of pumpkin juice and took a sip, taking a moment to regain his composure and calm his ragged, infuriated breath as he watched Lupin smile once more at the trio and continue on his way towards the table.

He wondered where Lupin would choose to sit. There were several vacant seats, spanning the length of the table, so he found himself somewhat surprised as his colleague lowered himself down into the chair next to his own. "Good morning Severus," he greeted, his voice friendly, although containing none of the warmth that Snape had often detected as being present when Lupin spoke with others.

Looking up from the spot on the floor that he had been pointedly looking at, Snape's eyes met Lupin's only for a moment as he returned the salutation. "Lupin." He drawled, taking a moment to quickly commit the image facing him to memory before reverting his gaze back to its previous point of interest. He fought the feeling of acrimony that began to rise within him at the realization that Lupin's eyes had lost the sparkle that they had contained for their students, although he took a little comfort in the fact that his smile, at least, was still amiable.

Sitting in silence for several moments, Snape mused upon the realisation that Lupin looked tired, as though the night had not brought much sleep to him at all, at least not any sleep that proved restful. Snape had potions for that, of course, but he was not about to comment on seeing his fellow Professor's drawn features and blackened eyes, as that would imply that he took notice, and Snape wanted Lupin to realise this on his own, without any obvious aide from him. Mind you, how one could get more obvious than brewing a complicated potion such as the Wolfsbane, each month was beyond Snape's comprehension.

But he thinks you do it because Dumbledore insists that you do.

Of course, Snape knew that this was true. Much of anything he did for Lupin was at the direct request of the Headmaster, and so it had always been. Lupin had no good reason to suspect that Snape had any regard for him, not following his treatment of him in previous years, and especially not after he let word of his condition slip to the Slytherins on the night that Black escaped from the Dementors. However Snape had thought that perhaps things had changed, at least he knew they had for him and part of him could not help but hope that the same was true for Lupin.

Thinking back, he was unable to remember exactly when his feelings towards the werewolf had begun to change from a mere tolerance to something akin to interest before finally evolving into a desperate desire and longing to make the man his own.

During their work with the Order, Snape and Lupin had been forced to put their animosity to one side, acknowledging following that fateful night that resulted in Lupin resigning from his position at Hogwarts, that they were in fact on the same side and would be required to work with one another. At first Snape had been incensed. He could not believe that even after the debacle with Black that Dumbledore would trust Lupin enough to allow him into the Order. However, it was soon pointed out to him that not only was Lupin an extremely talented wizard, wise in the ways of dark magic defences, but that they were severely lacking in number and needed any loyal assistance that they could find.

Their roles within the Order were very different, and always separate. Rarely were they called upon to assist one another, only ever having contact during the sporadic meetings that were called in Grimmauld Place. For the first year they barely exchanged glances let alone words; neither feeling the need nor the desire to speak to the other unless it was absolutely necessary. Then came the events at the Department of Mysteries. Snape had not been present, but he had heard all of what had happened and for as much as he despised Black, he was surprised by how difficult he found observing Lupin's reaction to his death.

Lupin never openly mourned the loss of his friend; he had, from what Snape had seen, always tried his best to maintain a level of professionalism, but more importantly, he seemed determined to present himself as a pillar of strength to Potter, who took the news of his beloved Godfather's demise somewhat badly. Between throwing continual temper tantrums and causing those who cared about him even more worry, Potter continued to think of no one other than him self. Lupin's own loss was a private affair and one he seemed to deal with behind closed doors.

For the first time Snape began to feel a need to do something; to ease the pain that was so obvious to him, if only because he could not bear to see it himself. Perhaps it was because Snape could see the pain that was so evident in Lupin's eyes each time they met, or maybe it was because he could hear how his voice trembled as he spoke to Potter, desperately trying to keep himself together for the child's sake. However, it seemed more likely that it was because everyone else was so absorbed in what they were doing that none seemed to notice the turmoil that Lupin was enduring on his own. For all his bitterness and anger, Snape knew only to well the burden of carrying pain alone, and as much as he told himself that he hated Lupin and what he was, he also knew that he was a good and decent man, deserving better than the life that had been dealt to him.

And so Snape had watched, and he had listened, growing ever more interested in the man, and discovering something almost like respect for him. When Dumbledore approached him a few weeks before the start of term and told Snape that he was considering requesting that Lupin rejoin the teaching staff, Snape had merely nodded and asked if this meant that he would be required to make the Wolfsbane potions once again, which of course he knew he would be. Lupin loved teaching, and Snape genuinely believed that this would prove to be an excellent way to help the other man over come his loss, and for his part, Snape aimed to make the process as easy as he could.

Lupin had, somewhat hesitantly, accepted the position, and had now been back at Hogwarts for a little over two weeks. Snape had, of course, been keeping a careful watch on him, pleased to see that he seemed to have fallen back into his old routine quickly. In fact, in many ways, it was as though he had never been away.

His thoughts were brought back to the present then, as out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Lupin raising his glance to the ceiling above them, which, in reflection of the current weather conditions outside, was dark and stormy as rain fell in torrents around them yet never reached the occupiers of the room.

"It looks as though it is going to be a dreadful day. I do hope the weather clears for the match this afternoon."

Snape had been enjoying the silence, mulling over his thoughts while relishing the feeling of having the man he desired so close to him. Close enough so that he could smell the combination of soap and chocolate that wafted on the air - the last thing he had any interest in now was small talk. Regardless, however, these moments alone with Lupin were rare, and without appearing eager, Snape was loathe to allow it to pass leaving him with nothing to mull over other than the vivid memory of the man seated next to him.

"I don't know Lupin. I am rather looking forward to the match. Slytherin play well in all conditions after all, it is just a great pity the same cannot be said for Gryffindor."

Chuckling, Lupin helped himself to some eggs and bacon. "Is that why Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup last year then?"

Narrowing his eyes, Snape fixed Lupin with one of his best glares, annoyed that it seemed to have had no effect as his companion continued munching away on a piece of particularly crunchy bacon looking completely un-phased by the penetrating glower that was burrowing its way into the side of his head.

"And without their star player no less," he retorted, shooting a glance over towards Potter as he did so. "Perhaps he isn't quite as indispensable as we have all been led to believe."

"Come now Severus. That was hardly Harry's fault. Umbridge was...well..." Lupin broke off, obviously struggling to find a suitably polite word that would describe the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor from the previous year. In fact, truth be told, Snape would have had difficulty in doing so either. He too found her a good deal stricter than was entirely necessary, and some of her punishments left even him feeling disturbed, which was no easy accomplishment.

"Whether or not it was Potter's fault is entirely beside the point Lupin, although I for one am not convinced that he was utterly blameless in the matter that caused him to be banned from playing." Smirking at the memory, Snape delighted in having had, at least for a short time, someone whose loathing of Harry Potter was almost on a par with his own. Of course Dolores Umbridge did go too far, as a Professor he couldn't deny that, but he did admit to having felt some small swell of satisfaction at his life being made so utterly intolerable by her.

"My point was that their celebrity seeker isn't so indispensable to the team as was once believed." Interrupted by a gentle pressure of a hand that had been laid upon his shoulder, Snape looked up, and was started to find Professor Dumbledore smiling down at him over the rim of his half moon spectacles.

"Forgive my intrusion Gentleman, but Severus, may I have a quiet word in private?"

No. Not now. Why did you have to come now?

Curling his lips into an obliging smile, hoping that his annoyance with the interruption was not too noticeable, Snape nodded and rose from his chair. "Of course Headmaster." Turning his head towards Lupin, he nodded it slightly by way of a parting greeting. "Lupin, if you shall excuse me."

Dumbledore, as always, had impeccable timing, he thought wryly, as he followed the elderly wizard out of the Great Hall and towards his office. Being summoned this early could only mean one thing, and Snape's heart sank as the realization washed over him like the torrent of icy rain that was falling outside. For a moment, he had been bathed in light, and now, just as a candle is extinguished by the wind, Snape found him self once again plunged into the world of darkness where he was forced to dwell.