Remus invited himself over again the following Sunday afternoon, delighted to be able to bring the first raspberries of the season for them to share. Severus had accepted the bag and handed it to his house elf, and a few minutes later they appeared on a tea tray with freshly baked scones and soured cream. Snape assembled scone, cream and berries with scientific precision and savoured every delicate mouthful before humming his approval, complimenting Remus.

"Green fingers."

Remus blushed and muttered something about his garden being in an ideal spot for raspberry bushes.

"Indeed," Severus acknowledged, in his low whisper, "Yet growing octurvice requires no small amount of skill. The specimens you brought last week were excellent."

"Oh, I'm glad they were useful! May I ask what you used them for?"

"For everything," he sipped his tea as though that closed the subject.

"Everything?" Remus pushed, knowing that the other wizard spoke as infrequently as possible, but unable to curb his curiosity. Snape gave a little impatient gesture with his hand.

"All the experiments I have been unable to conduct for the want of octurvice, naturally."

"You have a lab here?" Nod. "May I see it?"

Snape gave him a calculating look, and Remus realised that he had encountered another boundary. The inner sanctum. The place where Severus had an important purpose in the eyes of the world, despite the disabilities which made normal life so difficult. Thinking about the terrible injuries they had both sustained, Lupin adjusted his silk scarf, wondering if the potions master found it hard to trust people since his capture. No, scratch that, he had never trusted people. Not on the Hogwarts Express thirty years ago and not during the intervening years. Perhaps Voldemort, but look where that trust had got him. Probably Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was dead. It's a huge step for him just having tea with me, thought Remus, suddenly humbled by the realisation. He was about to retract the request and change the subject, when his sharp ears managed to catch the ghost of a reply.

"Perhaps."

Remus beamed.

…….

That blasted werewolf was back for the third Sunday in a row.

Severus was not about to admit, even to himself, that he had actually been looking forward to the visit. It was merely a form of therapy, an anchor to stop him forgetting the few social skills he had. He rolled his eyes at the subconscious use of the word "therapy". He hated that word. In fact, over the last three years it had overtaken long standing rivals "werewolf", "marauder" and "Snivellus" as his least favourite word ever. Physiotherapy. Hydrotherapy. Magitherapy. Speech therapy. And the worst of the worst, the evil, roaring, screaming, sucking, soul annihilating demon itself, Psychotherapy. He shuddered. How dare they? Literally adding insult to injury by trying to smash their way into his mind, trampling through all his carefully filed emotions like a herd of nifflers in a jewellery shop. If something was being repressed, it was for good reason; what did they know, the simpering, know-it-all, good for nothing, oxygen thieving….

"Severus?" Remus' golden eyes were wide with concern.

"My apologies, Lupin," he managed to drag himself back to the present.

"Are you feeling ill? Can I do something?" he had taken Severus by the arm and led him to an armchair. "If you would rather I went home…"

"No!" it came out with more force than he intended. "Merely a runaway train of thought."

"Look, Severus, if I'm crowding you by barging in here…"
"You are not." He took a deep breath and looked at the floor. "Stay. I had allowed myself to become agitated over some unpleasant recollections. I am quite recovered now."

Remus seemed to accept his explanation, no doubt having enough bad memories of his own to understand. He remained sitting on the arm of the chair, a hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. Snape found himself unable to shrug off the contact, and surprised himself by actually leaning in towards Lupin, who brought his whole arm around the slytherin's shoulders in a loose hug. Neither spoke for half an hour or more, content to sit together in the summer afternoon stillness.

After a while the kneazle crept in, immediately flying into a temper at Lupin.

"Oh, do stop it," chastised Snape.

"I think she's trying to protect you." Remus addressed the creature, "I'm not hurting him, look." He stroked Snape's shoulder tenderly to demonstrate. "See?"

Apparently reassured, the kneazle jumped into her chair, stretched every limb with a feline indulgence and lay down to sleep. Remus was about to make a comment when he noticed two spots of pink on the other man's cheekbones, and realising what he'd just done, cleared his throat and moved to the window seat. This time, the silence was not so pleasant.

Fortunately, Josty appeared with the tea. Sensing the tension she plucked up the nerve to speak.

"Begging pardon, Master Snape, Sir, but Josty is noticing how nice the view to sea is looking today, when Josty is out gathering mint. Please be excusing Josty for impertinence, but Master's friend be living inland she be thinking."

Remus noted the elf's Cornish accent with a smile, and also the distaste with which she spoke the word "inland".

"That's right, Josty. In Derbyshire. About as far inland as you can get." He had never seen a house elf sneer before, but he supposed anyone would pick up the skill after a lifetime of serving Snapes. The creature turned with some insistence towards her master.

"Master Snape must take his friend to the cliffs!"

"There is no need, Severus, if you aren't well," began Remus, stopping as she began prodding him in the elbow with a bony finger.

"Well! Of course Master Snape is being well! You is going to the cliffs!" Remus was unused to such aggression from an elf. Severus clearly was not.

"Very well, Josty. Would you pack us something to eat?"

Josty disappeared with a satisfied pop.

The two wizards regarded each other across the room. Between the kneazles, house elves and werewolves, both concluded to themselves that Severus' life was not so very lonely anymore.

…….

By the fourth visit, they had settled into a routine. Tea, discussion about potions or the latest news from Remus' friends, then a slow walk on the cliffs. Severus paused frequently, particularly on the way back, but didn't seem to be in pain.

"My knee does not hurt much," he whispered, reading Remus' thoughts, "It is merely weak. Without the support of a cane it collapses and deposits me on the ground."

"How undignified," deadpanned Remus. Snape glared, but relaxed into a small smile almost immediately.

"Indeed."

They paused at a nice sunny spot, sitting on a lichen-covered rock looking out to sea. Remus was rapidly falling in love with the view. A blue-green transparent sea rolled beneath the jagged grey cliffs, sometimes sparkling as the crest of a wave caught the sun. Seagulls whirled through the salty air, and from time to time a large wave would surge up the splintered rocks to their right hand side, exploding upwards with a boom of white spray. It took the "inlander"'s breath away.

"Do you always wear the scarf?" With the gulls, the waves and the wind, Remus only just caught the question. His hand reached up to his neck of its own volition.

"Not if I'm alone."

"You dislike reminding people of your burn?"

"No. Well, yes, I suppose so. It's mostly because it's so ugly."

"May I see?" It was Snape's turn to test the boundaries. Correctly guessing that no one had been allowed to see Lupin's neck since he left hospital, he felt rather proud of himself when the werewolf slowly undid his scarf and leaned over to show him. Never having seen a silver burn before, he was intrigued by the blistered, red flesh, and asked several professional questions about the injury and the potion used to heal it.

"You said it was worse at full moon?"

"Yes. But probably because all my senses are heightened at that time. Do you mind if I put this back?" He held up the scarf. Snape nodded, lost in thought behind his glasses.

Misinterpreting his sudden distance, Remus felt deflated.

"I told you it was ugly," he muttered, his shoulders sagging as he saw Snape's revulsion.

"Hmm? Ugly? Oh yes, it is ugly," his mind was still far away, but on catching a glimpse of the other's distraught expression he snapped back to reality. "All of us carry scars, Lupin," he said gently. "But you could never be ugly."

Remus knew he was being rather pathetic, but he couldn't help demanding reassurance.

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

Severus did not answer for a few distressing moments. Then he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the griffindor's forehead.

"Really."

……..

A/N: Awwww!

Thanks for the reviews for the previous, nasty bit.(Glad you liked it, Muriel) I hope you'll agree that after all the horror, they deserve this bit of fluff!

Oh yes, the part I grossed out about last time was the kneecap torture (shudder).

Hopgoblen: Oops, didn't intend for Harry to come across as a "dick head"! I suppose it's easier to write the grown-ups. Will stick to them in future ;-)