The weather had been sunny and languidly hot for so many weeks, it was rather a shock when Remus was awakened by the gentle patter of summer rain on Sunday morning. Grey clouds stretched across the sky as he pulled on a waterproof and went to check on his garden, cutting him off from the wider horizon, obscuring the distant ragged outline of the Peak District in a damp white haze. The late summer flowers were looking battered and soggy, temporarily bowed by the weight of water, but hopefully not permanently damaged. The Bishop of Llandaff was standing defiantly upright, swaying in the slight breeze as though scorning its less robust neighbours. As usual, the sight of the red flower made Remus smile wistfully through the raindrops.
He stopped smiling as he reached the herb garden and found a sodden grey-green heap of slime where his octurvice bush used to be. As he knelt down to inspect it, the ruined foliage tried to shrink away from his hand, and he noticed it was making a miserable little keening sound, at odds with the joyous trilling of the garden birds.
"I'm sorry," he told it sadly. "I had no idea the weather would break like this." The plant wailed a little louder, tugging at Remus' heart. He hurried inside to consult 'On the Cultivation and Husbandrie of Rare and Exotick Magickal Flora', the only book he had found so far with any useful advice on octurvice.
"When your octurvice does begin emoting in the manner of a man, be sure that it is indeed moribund and most lykely to die within the hour. A verily slender chance to thrive may be gleaned by the pruning of all leafage and bough waxing more than one inch atop the soil, but I counsel you that the distress demonstrated by the bush upon being attacked may lay the doughtiest horticultor low."
Great. The plant was a drama queen. But he had to brave the hissy fit if it stood any chance of survival. He took a small sheet of tarpaulin and four short poles from the shed to make a shelter and set about removing the pulped leaves and dissolving branches, the octurvice sobbing and shrieking all the while. Honestly, thought Remus, the neighbours will think I'm butchering a cat. The anonymous author had been right though. The bush's final howls had left him feeling upset and slightly ashamed, as though he had committed some act of cruelty.
"It's for your own good," he told the stump grimly, speaking mostly to fill the deadly silence since the emergency surgery. All he could do now was wait and hope.
By the time he had attended to the rest of the battered garden, removed his muddy boots and trousers and warmed himself up with a steaming mug of coffee, it was noon and he was smiling in anticipation of his visit to Severus.
He was very pleased with the way their relationship was developing. Things progressed slowly, as fitted the cautious nature of the two wizards, but the attachment between them grew steadily stronger. They seldom saw each other more than once a week, sometimes staying the night but mostly not, though Remus found himself firecalling the Cornish house every evening before bed to share the details of his day and wish Severus goodnight. And Severus would smile a genuine smile without a trace of sarcasm or derision and bid him goodnight too. The thrill of hearing his given-name whispered by those thin, soft lips had not faded, and had recently managed to replace the anxiety dreams of the previous years with more pleasant and occasionally, more dirty visions.
At two o'clock, Remus was welcomed back to the Gatehouse with a kiss from Severus, who seemed pleased to see him. Something was different today, and it took the werewolf a moment to realise that he had always seen the sitting-room flooded with sunlight - outside the sky was as dark and rainy as it had been in Derbyshire, and the room seemed unusually grey and cold. Giving an involuntary shiver he wrapped his arms around Severus and squeezed, earning him a low chuckle and another kiss on the lips.
"Not so pleasant in the rain?"
Deliberately misunderstanding, Remus pulled back slightly to appraise the other man without letting go of his waist.
"No, just as pleasant," he grinned at his own silliness. Snape rolled his eyes and pushed him away with mock exasperation.
"I was referring to the house. It takes on a whole new persona in bad weather. You may find its gothic iciness too overbearing."
Enjoying himself, Remus continued to misbehave, again studying Severus intently before concluding;
"No, the gothic iciness is what I like best."
Snape turned away to hide his smile, muttering something which sounded distinctly like 'incorrigible Griffindor', and asked Josty for afternoon tea. The kneazle was dozing in her favourite chair, but a half-open eye and rotating ear followed the werewolf's every movement around the room until the elf arrived with a saucer of cream for her and a tray of tea and fruitcake for the humans. Apparently still conscious of the dingy atmosphere, Severus asked Josty to light a few candles on the mantelpiece and soon the room was bathed in a softer, dusky light.
"Feels like evening now, doesn't it?" observed Remus, helping himself to a large wedge of cake which was so delicious he gave a hum of surprise. Snape smirked.
"My grandmother's house elf developed the recipe. Apparently the secret is to soak the sultanas in black Earl Grey tea overnight," Josty appeared with a sudden pop and stood glaring right in front of her master, tiny hands on her hips. Snape was in equal parts amused, contrite and embarrassed. "Ah, Lupin, you will treat that information as confidential, I trust?" Josty turned a hundred-watt stare on him, flaring her nostrils threateningly.
"Of course," he placated with what he hope was a winning smile, "Believe me, I know how to keep a secret." Snape's face suddenly fell, and Remus was about to ask what was wrong when the elf interrupted with a sniff.
"Well, Josty supposes you is one of the family now anyways," she folded her arms across her chest and disappeared.
It was Remus' turn to feel torn between a mixture of emotions. This most private of men had accepted his former enemy as part of his life, making him some kind of honorary Snape, or so thought the one creature who had known him since birth. He wondered if Severus agreed, thinking of the way Mrs. Potter had loved to embarrass James by publicly declaring what she assumed were his private opinions. Nine times out of ten, James would have to admit to a hooting Sirius and giggling Remus that actually, she was right. Mothers were like that. From what he had managed to glean about Severus' childhood, Josty had raised him pretty much single-handedly and had been more of a parent than any blood-relative, or indeed, any human. Remus smiled shyly.
"Is that true?" he asked gently. The black eyes betrayed nothing as he answered.
"Would you wish to be associated with such a Dark band of reprobates? Murderers, torturers, wastrels, debtors, jailbirds, gamblers, inbreeds?" he paused and looked at the floor, before adding, "Death Eaters?"
Remus shrugged as casually as he could.
"Don't know about all the others. I've only met one Snape and none of those labels apply to him." Even his enhanced lycanthropic hearing had trouble catching the barely-breathed response above the soft patter of the rain outside.
"Some of them do."
Remus knew he was being subjected to a very important test. Desperate to pass, he thought carefully before replying.
"Perhaps. And yet, I have no wish to leave."
Severus had removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, it was a while before he spoke again.
"I cost you your position at Hogwarts by revealing your secret. I acted out of pure spite. There can be no excuse or forgiveness." Remus was immediately ready for this.
"That night I almost killed you. For a second time. Have you forgiven me for that?"
"Both incidents were Black's fault. There is nothing for which to forgive you. You, who have been nothing but kind and attentive to me since that time."
"Even if you had held your tongue, others would have guessed," he sighed, "They always do eventually. I thought we'd managed to put the concerns of the past behind us. We were doing well so far."
Snape shook his head, rubbing absently at his left forearm.
"The past is always with us. There can be no escape from it."
"You're right," Remus agreed, "But I put the bad times in the same category as my curse. Nothing can be done about either, but I force myself to look past them, to the future and all it may bring."
Severus' shoulders had sagged, and he seemed incapable of further speech. Remus knew his last comment had been rather trite, and sounded not unlike a Witch Weekly 'Happy Thought for the Week', but it had been the philosophy which had kept him going through a hundred different types of prejudice, self-inflicted wounds, painful transformations, the loss of his parents and friends, poverty, and various crashing disappointments. Severus had suffered in other ways but had also survived. Remus wondered what he had to cling to in order to cope with his own trials. A strange lapping sound at his elbow jolted Lupin from his thoughts, and he looked down to see the kneazle on the table next to his seat. Apparently still thirsty after finishing her own refreshment, she had sneaked over and begun drinking his tea. Feeling his eyes on her, she stared defiantly back and continued slurping, daring him to do anything about it.
When he looked up, Severus was grinning silently on the other side of the room. Relieved to feel the tension break, Remus raised his eyebrows haughtily.
"Professor de Carvel Snape, do you have any control over the creatures in your house?"
"None whatever. I am constantly torn between the wishes of an elf, a kneazle and a werewolf." Remus giggled then immediately clapped his hand over his treacherous mouth. Why was the Potions Master making him so silly today? He tried to muster a patronising look of disdain, but when he spoke the words sounded as sincere as a promise.
"We do our best to take care of you."
To Remus' delight, it was Severus who was blushed this time. He swiftly replaced his black-framed glasses and let a few strands of black and white streaked hair fall in front of his face as he clicked his fingers to summon Josty. He spoke calmly in his ragged whisper, not looking at Lupin.
"Another teacup, if you would be so kind."
……
Against all odds, the octurvice bush survived. By the following Sunday, it had sent out a single grey-green shoot, as though testing the air before committing to any serious growth, and Remus was so relieved he had begun sitting next to it for a few minutes each day, whispering words of encouragement. Though he knew it was his imagination, he could feel some kind of ridicule radiating from the corner of the garden where The Bishop grew whenever he spoke to the other plant.
"I know," he grinned sheepishly, unsure whether he was addressing the dahlia or the lingering spirit of Sirius, " The first sign of madness."
"What is?" a very much alive and human voice asked cheerily from the back door.
"Talking to yourself is. How are you, Harry?" Remus straightened up and accepted a hug from the young man, the only person with unlimited access to Remus' house and garden.
"Fine," green eyes sparkled at him, "I just wanted to talk to you. Are you OK?"
"Yes, thank you. The rain almost did for my octurvice last weekend, but it seems to be fighting back now."
Harry frowned down at the stump underneath its protective tent.
"Octurvice? That's usually used in untraceable poisons isn't it?" Remus opened his mouth to answer but somehow no sound came out as a thought he had been trying to ignore swam back to the front of his mind. Harry didn't notice anything wrong and continued in a suggestive tone. "Speaking of poisons and potions, are you still seeing your tall dark Slytherin?" Remus swallowed. He was blushing again, dammit.
"He's not mine. But yes, we're still friends." Harry was grinning mischievously, clearly pleased with his reaction.
"Well I'm sure no one else wants him. Got any food? I'm starving!"
Harry was impressed with the selection of cheeses from the specialist shop in nearby Hartington, and set about them enthusiastically with home-baked poppyseed bread, home-grown tomatoes and generous dollops of Branston pickle.
"You haven't managed to grow your own pickle tree then?" he teased, through huge mouthfuls.
"Not yet," his acting-godfather deadpanned, "The cheese tree keeps dropping rounds of stilton on it."
Harry snorted and took a large swig from his Ribena, becoming serious for a moment.
"Remus?" he began, tracing the rim of his glass thoughtfully.
"What is it, Harry? Is something wrong?"
"No. Not wrong, really," he seemed to be searching for the right words. Ducking his head he burst out; "How do you know if a girl likes you?"
Remus smiled. At twenty one, Harry was a bit old to be asking this question, but then he had been occupied with more important matters for most of his teenage years.
"You went out with Ginny for a year. How could you tell she liked you?"
"That's different. We were friends more than anything else, and I'd known her for seven years. Friends who snogged occasionally. Neither of us expected anything to happen long-term. Hazel is different."
"Hazel?" Remus was intrigued now. He hadn't heard the name before. Or had he? He vaguely remembered a brown-haired girl at the Birthday party, delighted by some trick lollipops the Weasley twins were using on Neville. She hadn't seemed particularly close to Harry.
"She lives in Godric's Hollow. Was working at the Inn I stayed at during her summer vacation from University. We spent hours talking and playing bar billiards but we only kissed twice. Term started last week and she went back to Manchester, now I feel like I can't live without her. What do I do, Remus?"
"Well," Remus began, wondering what fatherly advice he could come up with. He had always been terrible at relationships, afraid of getting in too deep in case he was rejected later for his lycanthropy. He knew Harry had trouble forming romantic attachments because he clung to his friends like a replacement family, and new people he met could rarely see past the glittering legend surrounding his heroic defeat of Voldemort. He'd had problems with a gold-digger before too. Melanie something. Full of sisterly outrage, Hermione had punched her right across the Weasley's kitchen. Then something struck Remus. "Manchester University?" he asked.
"No, UMIST, Manchester Uni's science and technology college. Why?"
"She's a muggle?"
Harry became instantly defensive.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, not at all! Harry! You should know me better than that! But she doesn't know who you are? What you've done, I mean?"
"No. She guessed I was a wizard, Godric's Hollow is an integrated village so she's good at spotting who's who. I told her some of it after we became friends, what happened to my parents and stuff. She's been helping me with the house and the memorial garden. What if she thinks I was just a summer fling?" pleading eyes looked up at Remus, who smiled reassuringly.
"Ask to visit her in Manchester. If she says yes, go, have a fun weekend then ask if she wants a relationship."
"And if she says no?"
"Then there's your answer."
Harry threw his arms around Remus' neck, thanking him, and looking so much like the lovesick James that a lump appeared in the older man's throat. He pulled out his mobile phone and by the time he reached the hearth he was already speaking.
"Hold on a second, Haze, I'm going into a tunnel." The floo flared, and he was gone, leaving Remus dabbing his eyes like a proud but heartbroken mother-of-the-bride.
…….
Remus arrived at The Gatehouse to find Severus sitting at the desk in the corner of the library, engrossed in a pile of scrolls completely covering the surface and cascading down onto the floor. He looked up at Remus, then pointedly at the grandfather clock on the opposite wall.
"I know, sorry I'm late," he strolled over towards the desk and was a little perturbed when Severus quickly cast a spell to make the manuscripts roll up and tidy themselves away before he could see anything. "I was dispensing godfatherly advice. What are you reading?"
Severus glared, folding his arms across his chest when Remus stepped forward for a kiss.
"Nothing I wish to discuss." Remus looked so crestfallen he had to add; "The brat has woman trouble, I presume. Granger still sorting the wheat from the chaff with a fist of iron?" That seemed to cheer the blasted werewolf, the grin briefly returned to his face.
"You heard about that?"
"The slut sold the story to the Prophet. I seem to remember a deluge of letters the following day applauding Granger's actions."
"That's right. Well, I think Harry's fallen for a muggle girl this time." Remus chuckled, but still looked apprehensive. "Severus, are you angry with me?"
"Angry?" the Slytherin frowned, "No. When you failed to arrive at the usual hour I left the sitting room and returned to my papers. We made no formal agreement to meet at two."
"Oh," Remus felt rather foolish. They always met at two, he hadn't forgotten the rendez-vous, but had been so wrapped up in Harry he had lost track of time. "If you're not cross, may I have a kiss?"
Snape smiled and dropped his defensive pose to allow the kiss. When Remus started to pull back, he was pleased to find himself being held firmly in place and his mouth being explored with a good deal more passion than normal. Responding happily, it was a few delicious moments before he was forced to stop and take a breath.
"So you're not mad at me then?" he gasped, feeling himself blushing again. Snape helped himself to another deep kiss, his arms still locked tightly around Remus' waist before whispering next to his ear;
"Do I look mad?" Remus shook his head, taking in the bright black eyes, the heightened colour in the pale cheeks and the easy smile playing on his lips.
"No. You look delicious."
Severus gave a little tut of derision but said nothing, allowing Remus to rest his head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. Even more grey rain was rattling against the library window as they quietly enjoyed the feeling of warmth and closeness being generated indoors by the embrace.
"Wasn't raining when I left home," he murmured.
"You realise the weather prevents us from taking our walk again?" Remus smiled at the mention of 'our' walk along the clifftop, which had become a habit since the first stages of their relationship.
"We'll just have to entertain ourselves inside. What do you suggest, Severus?"
"Chess?"
"No, we've already established that it takes you twelve and a half minutes to beat me."
"Draughts?"
"Last time all the ornaments were
blown off their shelves."
"Diagonopoly?"
"You buy
Hogwarts and the Ministry then cackle evilly while I go bankrupt."
"Morgana's Missing Sixes?"
"I'm unlucky at cards."
"Squabble?"
"Your
dictionary's biased in your favour."
"Sex?"
Remus' breath caught in his throat. Had he just misheard? One glance at the look in Severus' eyes confirmed that he had not. The three letter word was resonating in Remus' ears, Snape's breathy velvet voice as he formed it already having had an effect on his heartbeat and ability to think. He managed to keep his voice level as he leaned back slightly, stroking his chin as he pretended to think.
"Hmm. It's been a while since I played that one, you'll have to remind me of the rules."
Severus' smirk was now positively predatory as he bent down and kissed him wetly on the lips, then travelled slowly down the chin and along the jawbone until he reached an ear, where he paused to whisper;
"The way I play, Lupin, there are no rules."
…….
A/N: A few Brit-isms some readers may not be familiar with, excuse me if this is not the case. Ribena – delicious blackcurrant drink and only acceptable beverage to Snape's Nightie when small (on pain of tantrum). Branston pickle – delicious sweet pickle SN and Bridget Jones have both been known to eat on its own with a teaspoon. Manchester – fab town in NW England with particularly rocking student life. The Cheese Shop in Hartington/Peak District – Derbyshire tourist attractions also enjoyed by locals, the first cool and smelly, the second cool and pointy.
Thanks again for the incisive reviews, I love you all for sticking with me!
Excessivelyperky – I think that is probably the most literary review on FF! Thank you. There is no way Severus would have turned down LM's last request to go and visit, it's a matter of Slytherin honour.
Silverthreads – judging by most fanfics, wizards and witches are sexually active most of the time! (Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I love smut!).
Hopgoblen – thanks for your many nice comments on this and the others x
