Disclaimer: Not mine, Jo's. All hail Jo x.

When the second war ended, Remus had thrown himself headfirst into writing his memoir. It had forced him to relive some of the worst times of his life and address issues he would rather have forgotten about, but after reading some of the twisted nonsense written in the Prophet he had believed it was his duty to set the record straight. Everyone had encouraged his efforts, even suggesting that exploring his demons so thoroughly might prove therapeutic. The book was a great success. It had been well received by his friends and the world at large, and had made him a lot of money. But the pain had not lessened, in fact, now devoid of any useful task and outed to the public as a werewolf, Remus was more depressed than ever before.

At first, he had lived for Harry's frequent visits, enjoying long chats and card games with the amiable young hero and feeling as though life still held a purpose for him. Then suddenly, Harry had refused to meet his eyes and started making excuses to avoid him, talking about trivial subjects and even dousing himself in cologne to prevent the werewolf from scenting his emotions. Remus had been deeply hurt. Then he had stared to panic. Harry had somehow found out about those evil, dirty feelings he had been harbouring for years. The powerful sensations of love and lust which had gnawed away at his soul since his best friend's baby boy had been fifteen. Oh Merlin, he was a filthy pervert and deserved Azkaban for this. He would never dream of telling Harry how he felt, it would end their close friendship which Remus treasured, but he longed to hold him, touch him and comfort him. Evidently he had let something slip, and Harry had been disgusted. You sick freak, Remus Lupin, he chastised himself, he's far too good for the likes of you and now you've lost him completely.

Wallowing in misery, Remus' natural insomnia grew progressively worse, and it was not long before he began downing a few firewhiskies after his solitary supper in the hope of relaxing his tense muscles enough to sleep. He knew he was pathetic. He knew he was getting a little too attached to solitude and alcohol. But he had lost the only important thing in his life, Harry, his Harry. What did anything else matter?

He was already on his third glass when his miserable brooding was interrupted by an unexpected floo call one night.

"I apologise for disturbing you at this hour, Lupin, but I regret I must ask for a favour."

"It's not that late, Severus. What do you want?" He hoped he didn't sound as drunk as he felt. What was Snape doing here? A favour? He mentally scoffed at the idea. As if he could ever be useful again! He was a drunken wreck, and any minute now the sneers and taunts would begin.

"It is rather delicate I am afraid. If you find the request too insulting then you are at full liberty to refuse and I shall cease bothering you forthwith."

"Go on."

"An important potion I am brewing requires hair from the head of a werewolf. I did have an old vial of hair purchased in Knockturn Alley, but upon opening it this evening I found the seal broken and the contents corrupted. It is imperative that…" Remus interrupted him with a snort. Typical Severus, never one for social calls.

"Just take what you need," he said resignedly, beckoning Snape over. "If you look very hard you might find a brown one, but I doubt it."

Snape strolled over with his usual grace and titled his head forward, drawing a gasp from Remus. Severus' hair! He blinked, unable to believe his eyes. The smooth dark locks had lost their habitual greasiness and were now perfectly framing his angular face like a single sheet of pure black silk. Remus was captivated. Snape was standing inches away from him now, speaking in that low, gentle voice but he could no longer hear the words. Unable to resist, he reached up and ran his fingers through the shiny tresses, incredibly soft under his touch and smelling of a hundred different things, all deliciously arousing. He allowed himself to become lost in the giddy sensation of satin running through his fingers, until he felt the wolf awaken inside his head and start clamouring and trying to take charge of their body. It was taking a great deal of mental effort to control the beast. This hardly ever happened when the moon was not full, and it was never this powerful. His worrying thoughts dragged him back to Earth, and he realised with a jolt where his hands were.

Horrified at what he had been doing, Remus looked up into sparkling black eyes. He was going to get cursed. Severus was going to kill him on the spot. Oh Merlin.

"Remus," said Snape. One word, spoken so softly it was barely a whisper, but the tone of promise he used to speak the name flew straight to the ears of the baying wolf.

Feels good! Smells good! It growled in Lupin's mind. Take him!

"No!" shouted Remus' human consciousness, Severus hates us, he does not want this, Wolf - we cannot use our exceptional strength to force a someone who does not want to.

"No?" purred Snape with an adorable little pout, his arms snaking around the grey-haired man, holding him steady as the internal struggle made him dizzy and confused.

Yes! howled the wolf, overpowering the hesitant human part of his brain, grabbing hold of Severus and crushing their bodies together, claiming his mouth and tearing at his robes as desire gushed through every cell of both facets of Remus Lupin.

…….

Severus woke with an overbearing feeling of smugness. It worked every time. He had unleashed the Secret Weapon and it had done spectacularly well, as he knew it would. It took about two hours to achieve the effect, which he had discovered one silly drunken evening in Lucius' mother's bathroom, using an extra-strong medicated sebum-reducing hair lotion, a powerful freezing charm, two heated beauty wands, another freezing charm and a fixative balm. The amount of effort required meant he only did it on special occasions, but no male or female was able to resist him when his hair was so very sexy. There was no need for love potions or dark spells if he activated the Secret Weapon.

Turning to look at the face sharing his pillow he reflected that the old witches' tales concerning the sexual prowess and equipment of werewolves had been dead right, and he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Resting a hand on his lower abdomen, he wondered if he had managed to conceive already – it would be a few weeks before he was able to find out. He had better stay on good terms with Lupin in case he needed a repeat performance. In fact, while they were lounging together in bed, why not take advantage of morning arousal and have another go?

Lupin was stirring now. He blinked sleepily at Severus and smiled.

"Morning," he croaked, then his eyes scanned the dark wizard's neck and shoulders and his face fell. "Severus," he gasped, then stopped. Snape could not tell what he was thinking, but some kind of realisation was dawning on Lupin and it was clearly distressing him. Liquid was welling up in his eyes as he pulled down the sheet and ran his fingers over the bite marks, scratches and bruises he had inflicted on the pale flesh during the night. When he spoke again his voice was so contrite it was almost a whimper.

"I'm so sorry, oh Merlin, Severus, the wolf…" a single tear escaped down his cheek and Snape had to keep from snorting. Idiot werewolf. He gave Lupin his dirtiest smile and pulled him into a hug.

"You were an animal!" he whispered the compliment seductively. Now Lupin began actually sobbing and mumbling miserably against his neck.

"Ssso sorry, never lost control like that before, can usually subdue the wolf. Did I hurt you very much? Did you even want to…?" Merlin, but this beast could be stupid.

"Remus," he whispered gently, stroking his hand soothingly up and down his spine. "Do you really think I would allow anyone to do me harm?" Lupin sniffed and looked up in surprise.

"Bbut…" he stammered. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Did you enjoy last night?" He bit his lip and nodded guiltily at Severus. "As did I. Very much indeed."

Lupin still looked forlorn, but he had stopped snivelling and wiped his eyes.

"But I utterly dominated you! Ripped your clothes off and just had my way with you, biting and clawing and being really rough!" Severus allowed himself to blush, peeping up coyly through his dark eyelashes.

"I know," he said quietly, still stroking the other wizard's back and shoulders. "Lupin?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Do it again?"

…….

A/N: Thank you reviewers! I really hadn't intended to keep going with this fic, but it's so much fun to write I can't help it. May I reiterate that I have nothing against redheads or the Welsh, unlike Severus, who has managed to conquer his 'mudblood' prejudice but is still a long way from being a tolerant man. (I suspect the redhead thing may stem from having taught too many Weasleys).

Kyer – I know! Heh heh. Each of my Severus' are slightly different in their outlooks and experiences (the joys of playing god!)

Moondancer – Thanks! I figured he wasn't the sort of man to use a random selection process for something so important.