Set near the beginning of Year Three. Lupin, the new DADA teacher, starts keeping a journal. In it he can confess his secret love of Severus Snape. He also tells the story of a strange series of events involving Snape and nightmares.

2nd October

Hello.

OK, that looks rather lame, especially for the first word. Let's see now...my name is Remus Lupin, and I'm a werewolf.

Bugger.

I sound like a bloody attendee of an Alcoholics Anonymous support group. Maybe I should start my own group, LA: Lycanthropes Anonymous.

Let me just make a quick note here; Albus Dumbledore has suggested that I begin keeping a journal. In it, I should vent when I need to, keep a log of how I feel before and after each monthly transformation, and in general use this inanimate bundle of parchment as a confidante. He explained to me that he has found, over the years, that it is very helpful to be able to go back and read his own journals, for inspiration, for support, and to reassure himself that he has made mistakes before, and it did NOT bring on the end of the world.

He has also encouraged me to seal this journal after I make my entry each night, with a Crypto spell, to prevent others' eyes from reading it. With my condition, that will be especially important.

I'm a werewolf. I think I mentioned that already. I have been ever since I was a small child. My parents, bless them, have been amazingly supportive throughout the years. In fact I have been met, for the most part, with only minor discomfort by the handful of individuals who know the truth about me. These days the one exception is Severus Snape.

Not that I blame him. He's been afraid of me, though I know he'd never admit it, since the day he came upon me in wolf form for the first time while we were students here. My best friend at the time, Sirius Black, thought it would be amusing to let Severus in on the secret of my monthly disappearances. If it hadn't been for James...but I digress. That is one event that I know I will not need a journal to remember, and I'd just as soon not preserve it for posterity on paper.

It's really ironic that I am now teaching side by side with Snape here at Hogwarts. They needed a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at short notice, and Albus thought of me. Bless the man. Bless his ancient, enormous, generous, loving, trusting heart. I was in dire need of employment, and had received two notices of imminent eviction from my tiny flat, for lack of payment of the rent. It gave me a great deal of pleasure to be able to drop the late rent into that vile landlord's chubby hand, thanks to a first month's advance salary from Dumbledore. It was even more of a treat to tell him I was moving out.

So here I am, Professor R. J. Lupin. Hogwarts professor and werewolf. The staff was told of my condition, and I have been greeted with nothing but acceptance, and offers of assistance wherever I need it...except from one. Snape is not happy with my presence here, and has made no attempt to hide it. I know that it is, in part, because he covets the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. But moreover I believe it is leftover resentment from that silly childhood grudge.

But being at the same place of employment with Snape is a blessing, for me, regardless of how he treats me. That is because he is one of only a small handful of Potions masters in the country who is equal to the task of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion. Wolfsbane Potion is a fairly recent invention, and it...well it keeps me sane during my one night each month as a beast. Without the potion, I lose my mind, and will attack anyone who crosses my path. With the potion, the transformation is only physical. I am still myself, but in the form of a werewolf.

As you can imagine, the benefits of having access to a supply of the potion is a godsend. Without it, I would be forced to sequester myself away, under lock and key or in chains, for the sake of the safety of all those around me. Instead, now, I can more or less relax and enjoy a quiet evening curled up on the rug in front of my fire.

The week classes began, Albus called me into his office. Snape was already there when I arrived, and looking daggers at me. I sat down uneasily, and soon learned the reason for the expression. Albus had asked Snape to provide me with the potion each month. Snape is stubborn. He's irritable and snarky. He's a downright sodding git at times, but all that aside, he respects Dumbledore. He could not refuse, even though he obviously wanted to.

Snape is not well liked at this school, by the students or the faculty. I have heard most unkind things said out of the Potions master's earshot, and I am often made to feel ill at ease when I am reluctant to agree. I can't help it. I don't see Snape the way they do. I never have, really.

They see a horridly ugly, ill-tempered man whose only pleasure comes in making others' lives miserable. I see a man whose own life was made miserable from a very early age. I must even confess to having been a part of it. I still feel remorse when I look back on my behavior. Granted, I was never the ringleader when it was decided that Snape should be made to suffer. But I didn't do anything to stop it either. It was partly out of cowardice, I suppose. Fear that if I defended Snape as the popular target, I would take his place. But more it was the fear of losing the first friends I had ever had.

He and I passed in the halls today, and I smiled at him. For the first time since I came here, he did not glare, or ignore me. He nodded. Just a slight inclining of his head, but it made me feel happier than...

I don't know why I didn't finish that last thought. This is my journal, MY secret confessional. Where better place to tell the truth, than to this, my private diary, protected from all eyes but my own?

I think about Snape more than I think of anyone else, I believe. He has been through so much hardship, so much pain, and nobody seems to understand that. I know of his position as a double agent for Albus. I know the horrors he has had to witness, and take part in, in order to maintain his charade with the Death Eaters. I know his childhood home was not a happy one.

And even with all that emotional baggage to carry, he maintains his professionalism as a professor. He bears so much darkness that it is only logical that it leaks out in the form of an ill temper. He must let that dark part of him out or it will take him over and drive him mad, actually turn him into the dark, evil person that everyone already sees him as. They don't understand. And it breaks my heart, because I love him.

Well. There, now. I said it. Well, wrote it. I love him. I love Severus Snape. I, Remus Lupin, love Severus Snape.

Oh, I have known for many years now that I'm not attracted to women. My parents are fine with it now, though I daresay they took that harder than my lycanthropy. Clichéd though it may be, I suppose I must say that I first discovered my sexual orientation in school, when I would experiment with Sirius. Sirius was not gay, at least that was HIS story. And granted, he did seem to be up on the roof of the Astronomy tower with a different girl every weekend. But he certainly did not hold anything back when he and I...

But that's from another time.

At present I am working beside a man whom I love. And he hates me. He doesn't know I love him, I mean, I'm not a complete fool. I would never tell him. Chances are, he would think I was teasing him. Or worse, he would know I was serious and still laugh in my face. So on we go, seeing each other every day, my heart leaping every time he looks at me without sneering. I am pathetic. But I love him.

I love him. God help me, how I love him.

11th October

Well, it seems that making a vow to write in this journal every night is more difficult to keep than I had first realized. I haven't even picked the book up since I last wrote, and the sight of the smudged, diluted ink of the last paragraph above reminds me why. How embarrassing, to be reduced to tears over a crush. You'd think I would have outgrown such things by now.

I'm deluding myself, I am well aware of that. Even now, I can feel my throat tightening, my sinuses stinging, and in a moment the words in front of my eyes will begin to blur as the tears fill my eyes. Yes, there they go, right on schedule.

Severus brought me my potion last night for the first time. He was hesitant, hovering in the doorway of my office like a scolded student until I invited him in. When he came in, it was as if he was reluctant to make eye contact with me. I suppose it was out of fear. Or distaste. But whatever the reason, I simply thanked him warmly, and tried to let him know how very grateful I was, and how much I appreciated his efforts.

"Thank Dumbledore. I do it for him, not for you," was his grumbled reply as he made a hasty retreat. The goblet on my desk shuddered slightly as he slammed the door behind him, steam swirling in a silvery eddy with the rush of wind.

I just shook my head, chuckling with affection as I choked down the vile stuff. That was Snape in a nutshell. Which reminds me, he will be along with my potion any minute now, so I'd best wrap up and make this a short entry. I believe I will make a vow now, to write once a week, rather than every day as I had originally promised. Every day is just too big a commitment.

13th October

Well as I said, I was going to write once a week. But something incredibly strange happened tonight. I am not sure where to begin, and I am still reeling slightly. I have behaved abominably, and I am disgusted with myself. But at the same time I feel oddly satisfied and hopeful. Perhaps I should start at the beginning. I must get it all down while it still fresh in my mind, before the details go out of my head.

It's now three days before the next full moon, and my once-a-month foray into the wonderful world of lifting my hind leg to take a piss. Hurrah.

But as for my strange experience...a pair of immature Blast-Ended Skrewts somehow found their way into the Great Hall at dinnertime. Nobody really knows how, but the Weasley twins were notably absent. But with Hagrid away on personal business pertaining to Buckbeak, it was up to me and the other teachers to tend to the matter.

The students were running and screaming as the horse-sized Skrewts ran about, overturning the long tables as they scrambled around, chasing one another. Dumbledore had Minerva, Poppy and Flitwick handle herding the children out of the room and to their dormitories, leaving him with Snape and me to deal with the animals.

Well, the first thing we learned is that casting a Petrificus Totalus on an immature Blast-Ended Skrewt causes it to blast...violently. I fear the headmaster's beard will never be the same. Wingardium Leviosa is not much better, because an airborne Skrewt can still blast, and thus propel itself around the room at great speed like a jet engine.

The first blast of the flying Skrewt sent it crashing into the points counter in the corner near the high table, shattering all four glass vessels and spilling a colorful combination of rubies, emeralds, sapphires and topazes across the floor.

Gemstones on a stone floor act much like marbles underfoot. And when an immature Skrewt falls down, it...guess what...blasts. Snape was directly in the line of fire this time, but fortunately (I think) he himself slipped up on a handful of rubies and fell flat on his back just as the jet of flame arced over him. By the look on the Potions master's face as he rose, I could tell the baby Skrewts were not long for this world.

Fortunately, before Snape could cast whatever hex he was cooking up, Dumbledore found the solution. He cast a Sleeping Charm on both the creatures, and they immediately curled up into balls and went to sleep. THEN it was safe to levitate them out the door of the Great Hall, and outside to the paddock.

After securing the Skrewts, the three of us were on our way back up to the castle, when I noticed Snape was limping. I inquired if he was all right, and he snapped that he was fine, simply sore from his spill. I offered to escort him to the hospital wing, and he replied, rather harshly, that I should worry about my own health.

I guess I must have gotten an especially pathetic look of hurt on my face, because all at once, Severus's expression softened, and he sighed.

"No, Lupin, I do not require medical attention. Thank you for the offer." With that, he turned and started limping once more toward the castle.

I blinked. I looked to Albus, who just grinned, widening his eyes as if to say my guess was as good as his. Snape went on ahead of both of us, still limping, and rubbing his lower back. I followed, silently beaming, my silly face pink with pleasure like some moronic schoolgirl who'd just been winked at by the Quidditch Captain.

As we moved along the school corridor, Albus bid us both goodnight and headed up the stairs toward his quarters. Snape muttered goodnight with a brief wave, and started away. I started to follow suit, when I grimaced. The Wolfsbane Potion.

"Severus," I called quietly, "I'm so sorry, but I need my potion,"

He stopped, and I saw his shoulders slump wearily. I felt remorseful, but it was necessary. The only way to ensure that I am "safe" when I change is to drink the potion every night for one week before the full moon. Skipping a dose is not acceptable.

"I have it made up already," Severus replied tiredly, motioning me to follow. "Come along, then."

I followed obediently. Anywhere he leads me, I will go. Pathetic.

As we entered his quarters, I was struck immediately by how cozy they were. For some reason I expected Spartan, almost military severity. Instead, I found a pleasant room decorated in deep shades of sage green and burgundy. A plump, overstuffed sofa and two armchairs gathered in the sitting area. A handsome Oriental rug decorated the stone floor. Colorful, tasteful botanical illustrations were framed and hung on the walls, and a large bookshelf filled one entire wall.

In the far corner to the side of the fireplace was a small table, upon which rested a cauldron simmering over a low, contained flame.

"Make yourself at home," Snape said awkwardly, gesturing at the couch with one hand, as the other undid the clasp of his black cloak.

I hid a smile as I took a seat. It was obvious that Snape did not often have guests. I sank into the wonderfully soft cushions and watched him putter around the room. He hung the cloak on a peg by what I assumed was the bedroom door, and paused beside a table that held a small group of potted plants.

He plucked a few dead leaves off here and there. Then he moved to one plant set aside from the others and peered cautiously at it, absently unbuttoning his frock coat. He knelt, and obtained a small watering can from beneath the table, and began to water the strange, thick-stemmed little plant.

I gave a startled gasp as the thing suddenly whipped its finger-like fronds toward Snape, but he stepped back gracefully, as if he'd been expecting the attack.

"Ungrateful little bastard...," I heard him mutter irritably as he plunked the watering can down on the table.

"Sorry?" I called, uncertainly.

He turned, and gave a short huffing sound that I could swear was a laugh. He pointed at the wildly thrashing plant as he finished unbuttoning his coat.

"Bloody Whomping Willow sapling...had it for a few days, now. Sprout asked me to look after it while she's in France to take cuttings."

As he spoke, he miniature Whomping Willow was stretching toward him and whipping desperately. But then, as if realizing that it couldn't reach him, the little plant abruptly formed its five stalks into the shape of a human hand, and made a very rude gesture. I laughed outright, and Snape turned back toward the feisty little scrap of vegetation.

"I didn't teach it that," he said, turning from the table with raised eyebrows, shaking his head and removing his frock coat, tossing it over one of the armchairs. He then moved to the cauldron and used his wand to slightly lower the flame beneath. Then he yawned hugely, curling one elegant hand against his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Lupin," he muttered through the yawn, "but I need to go to bed. I am truly buggered."

'I wish,' I thought to myself. I smiled tightly and rose, pointing at the cauldron. "No problem. Just tell me what to do."

Snape peered at the cauldron's contents and took a sniff of the greenish vapor rising from it. He nodded a bit to himself as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his immaculate white dress shirt.

"It needs to be warmer...another twenty minutes to simmer," he said. "Stir it once in five minutes, and then leave it alone. The steam will turn silvery when it is ready." He started unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the room toward what I assumed was his bedroom.

"Thanks, Severus," I said fondly as he passed by. Hoping he understood how much I appreciated him.

"Not at all," Snape replied through another yawn.

He stripped off the shirt, revealing a pale, smooth back and shoulders. I did my best not to stare, but it was difficult. This was the most of Snape's skin I suspected that anyone other than a Healer had ever seen. He was obviously exhausted, because I knew he would never be so brazen as to undress in front of me if he were completely lucid.

"Just extinguish the flame before you leave. I have no wish to wake up burned to a crisp."

He turned toward me again, and I couldn't help but glance at his torso. He was extremely thin, but at the same time, his chest and stomach were solid-looking. His pectoral muscles were hard and his nipples a warm, dusky brown color. His body, what I could see of it, was almost completely devoid of hair.

Snape yawned again, and stretched both arms over his head, bouncing a bit on his toes. The muscles of his belly tightened, standing out slightly, the sloping ridge at the base of his ribcage protruding as he arched backwards. His black trousers slipped down a bit, revealing the sharp curves of his hipbones and a sparse sprinkling of dark hair trailing below his navel.

I suddenly had the strongest urge to graze my teeth over one of those inviting hipbones, and I felt my face start to flush. I quickly turned away to huddle over the simmering cauldron, mentally listing the charms used to repel a Banshee as I felt my trousers seeming to grow smaller. Mind triumphed over matter, thank god, and my inappropriate reaction to Snape's physique began to subside.

"Goodnight," I croaked, feeling ungrateful and lecherous. Snape went to a great deal of trouble for me with this potion and here I was, having impure thoughts about the poor man.

There was a pause, and I thought he had exited into the bedroom. But then I heard another yawn, followed by a sleepy, "Goodnight Lupin."

I looked over my shoulder and watched as Snape disappeared into the bedroom and closed the heavy door behind him.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and looked sadly at the closed door. Like Snape's heart; closed off and unattainable. I sighed again, and sat down in the armchair by the fireplace, checking the small clock on the wall.

After five minutes I dutifully stirred the cauldron, then moved to the bookshelf against the far wall and perused the titles. I found a book that looked interesting and pulled it from the shelf. Settling back in the cozy chair, I thumbed through it, admiring the handsome, colorful renderings of insects and the lists of their useful parts.

I must have become absorbed in the tome, because the next time I looked up, half an hour had passed, and the Wolfsbane potion was giving off the desired silvery steam. I replaced the book neatly on the shelf where it belonged, and moved to the cauldron. I carefully filled the goblet that Snape had left for me, paused, and then lifted it in a toast toward the closed bedroom door.

"Thank you, Severus," I murmured, and took a large gulp of the scalding, foul-tasting brew, swallowing it as quickly as I could. Absolutely vile, as usual.

I pointed my wand at the flame below the cauldron and muttered a charm. The fire went out as if by a switch, and I tucked my wand inside my robes. I moved to leave, draining the goblet as I walked, and then smacking my lips to try and rid my mouth of the potion's bitter residue.

"NOOO!"

The cry nearly made me jump out of my shoes. Even through the heavy oaken door, Snape's frightened wail was jarring. I charged to the door and lifted the handle. It didn't budge. So I pounded on it, frantically calling out Snape's name.

"REEMUUUS!"

My heart leapt into my throat. He was screaming for me! Snape did not scare easily, so whatever lay beyond the door had to be truly terrifying. Why wasn't he protecting himself? Was he hurt?

I yanked forcefully on the door handle, but it was locked securely. The wolf was howling through my veins, silently screaming at me to protect, to defend, to fight off the threat to the safety of my 'pack'. Adrenaline pumping, and not thinking rationally, I drew back and slammed my shoulder against the wood. The pain jarred me back to my senses, silenced the wolf, and, feeling like a complete dunce, I drew my wand.

"Alohamora!"

With a soft (click), the door unlatched and I pushed my way through. The room was dimly lit by several wall sconces, giving off a soft, yellow light. My eyes took in every corner, searching for trouble. Nothing seemed amiss, and I crossed quickly to the bed in the far corner, and the panting figure it held.

"NO! REEMUUUS...!"

I jumped a little as Snape screamed again. As I got closer, I could see that his eyes were shut, but darting madly beneath the closed lids, and I realized with great relief that he was only dreaming. I set my wand on the nightstand, along with the empty goblet, which I only then realized I was still carrying. Then I reached down and gently took Snape by the shoulders.

"Severus?" I called softly, not wanting to frighten him any further by jolting him awake. He was moaning in despair now, and I could see tears on his cheeks. I shook him a bit, and gently slapped at his face. "Severus...Sev...wake up," I said a bit louder.

"Oh nooooo," he sobbed, still lost in his nightmare.

I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped an arm around his shoulders. His body tensed, and one hand came up to push at my face. I caught his wrist in my free hand, and the other hand lashed toward me. I grabbed both his wrists and held them, as gently as I could, but tightly enough that he could not hurt me, or himself.

When he still showed no signs of waking, I transferred both his tiny wrists into one hand and slipped my other arm under his shoulders. I pulled him partially upright, and cradled him against my chest. "Come on, Severus...wake up, now...it's all right."

He sobbed wretchedly, tears flowing from his closed eyes, still dead to the world. Whatever he was dreaming about had to be horrible, and despite my concern for him, I couldn't help but be curious. What was the unknown terror facing him in his dream world, and why did his subconscious obviously believe that I was the one to challenge it?

I pulled him against my chest, trapping his arms between our bodies, and wrapped both my arms around him. I held him tightly, and almost unconsciously, I found myself beginning a faint, soothing, rocking motion.

"Remus," he sobbed again, but softer now.

"Shhh," I breathed against his ear. "Shhh, I'm here...I'm here...everything's all right." I moved one hand up to caress the back of his head, tousling the jet-black hair. His muscles were beginning to relax and after a few moments, he suddenly went limp in my arms. I tensed, worried. But then a small snore issued from his nose, and I realized he had simply settled back into a tranquil sleep.

I quietly held him for another minute or so. When I was certain the nightmare was over, I tilted him back slightly, and studied his face. Cradling him to me with one arm, I reached up and brushed my fingertips along the shiny tear tracks that marked his face. I had never seen Snape cry, not even as a child, when James and Sirius tormented him. My curiosity about the subject of the nightmare increased.

It was only then that I realized something... Snape was naked. Totally, completely, magnificently and unashamedly butt-naked.

The sheet gathered at his waist was thankfully keeping some semblance of his modesty and my libido in check. But it didn't change the fact that I was currently in the bed of the man I desired more than oxygen, and holding him, nude, in my arms. I suddenly felt a great wave of gratitude that he had not awakened, for I would probably be the recipient of a good hex.

Perhaps I deserved one. For, as I held him, I began to notice the smoothness of his skin, the warmth of him, the smell of him, the weight of his body against mine. I went red, and began to lower him back onto the mattress...but then paused.

I would never have another opportunity like this. He was sound asleep. He wouldn't remember tomorrow.

Carefully, I tightened my arm across his back, drawing him a little closer to me. With my free hand, I began to explore his face.

When teaching, Snape's face was lined deeply with anger and tension. He was the sternest professor in Hogwarts' history, and I knew it was a title he cherished. Even when he was not interacting directly with his students, he wore an expression of perpetual annoyance.

But in sleep, the hard lines around his eyes and mouth melted away. His brow lost its worried creases, and his lips, usually thin with frustration, relaxed and went from white to pink. Asleep, he was no longer fearsome and unapproachable. In slumber, the Potions master was not a hard-hearted, sneering monster. He was human, and to me, at least, he was beautiful.

I brushed the pad of my middle finger softly over his perfect, ebony eyebrows, tracing the neat, elegant curves. His eyelids fluttered slightly, and I froze, holding my breath. But he did not awaken.

His eyelashes, dark as midnight, were luxuriant, long and thick, laying softly in feathered half-moons against his pale cheeks. I had known women who spent great amounts on makeup to achieve lashes like the ones with which Severus had been blessed by nature. They gave him a look of innocence that was incongruous with his stormy, stony personality.

Reaching between our chests, I withdrew one of his hands and held it in my own. His fingers were very long, slender and graceful-looking. He had the exquisite, unblemished hands of an aristocrat, which I found odd, considering the corrosive potions ingredients he worked with on a regular basis. I couldn't resist lifting that beautiful hand to my lips for a kiss. I turned his hand over, and brushed my lips over his wrist, following the slate-colored vein that pulsed beneath the smooth, pale skin.

His skin tasted like salt and smoke, and I wanted more. I leaned in and ran my tongue along his jaw line, feeling the faintest bit of stubble, and imagined him shaving the next morning. Next I kissed my way down his throat, over his Adam's apple, and followed one slender collarbone to his shoulder.

I lowered his hand and ran my fingers down his upper arm, feeling the sturdy biceps there. I fingered the velvety hollow of his inner elbow, and wondered briefly if he was ticklish. As I grew bolder, I lowered my face and kissed his temple, as lightly as sunlight on a leaf. I kissed his cheek, then again, lower. The corner of his mouth, and at last, I brushed my mouth in the faintest caress over his lips.

As I drew back, I felt desire becoming more powerful. I always become a bit randy in the days before the full moon. I looked down toward his groin, covered by the sheet, and decided that I needed to touch him. After that, I reasoned that I would open my trousers and place his hand on me. I reached down toward the sheet covering his nakedness...

But before my fingers touched the cotton, I froze. My mouth dropped open, and I looked in horror at the still-sleeping face of the Potions master. My stomach, before fluttery with desire, was suddenly burned through with shame and disgrace. My throat went dry, and for a moment I thought I would be sick.

What in the name of Merlin was I doing! I knew that if Severus were awake, he would not allow me to take these personal liberties with his body! To take advantage of him as he slept was only just shy of rape!

Trembling with shame and sadness, I lowered him back onto the bed and tenderly pulled the sheet up to his chin. Tears filled my eyes, spilling over as I studied the innocent, oblivious face that I so adored. How could I do such a thing to the man I loved?

I rose, and reached down, intending to caress his brow, as innocent as a father over his sleeping child. But my shame was overwhelming, and I could not bring myself to touch him again. So I simply snatched up my wand and made a hasty retreat, first from his bedroom, and then from his quarters completely.

And now here I sit, scribbling like a crazy man, the quill scratching across the page so fast it seems to smoke. I am beside myself with a combination of hope, sadness, and self-loathing. Hope, because tonight Severus treated me with something akin to kindness, or at the least, acceptance. Sadness, at the thought that my guilty conscience may very well now destroy any chance of those feelings becoming more. And self-loathing for the absolutely vile way I took advantage of him for my own selfish, lustful pleasures.

I think that I have captured it all in writing. I suspect that I will not be sleeping much tonight.

END CHAPTER ONE