Part 2/2

In the evening, Draco had gone to bead early. Severus had come shortly before dinner, talking sparsely to Draco, and not at all to Remus. Now the two men were sitting in the living room, both of them reading in the dusty yellow light of the old-fashioned standard lamp.

After a while, Remus put his book down, looking over to Severus instead. The other man's face was hidden in shadows, which accentuated the sharp line of his nose and dark circles under his eyes. Draco was right, Remus had to admit – Severus was looking more than a little tired. And it wasn't the kind of tiredness that would wear off after a good night's sleep.

He kept struggling with himself for a while, but there was no denying that Severus was right. Remus was here, he wouldn't be able to change anything about it, and he would have to make the best of the situation as long as it lasted.

"What should I do?"

Severus put down his book in his lap. "What do you mean?"

"You said I could at least do something useful while I was here instead of wallowing in self-pity. What is there that I can do?"

Leaning back in his armchair, Severus closed his eyes. There was a strange expression on his face, as though he were struggling with himself, with what to answer, and Remus half expected him to tell him the same that Draco had told him earlier today.

"Take care of Draco for me," Severus replied in the end. "There are...things that he needs that I can't give him. I'm not..." he trailed off, rubbing his hand over his eyes with an exhausted sigh before he got up abruptly. "I'm going to bed."

That night, Remus lay awake for a long time, thinking about what Severus had not said.

.-.-.

The time until the next full moon went by in an odd state of truce. Remus had expected that he would be ordered to return to the prison cell he'd been kept in before, but somehow, Severus seemed to have convinced Voldemort that it would be better for him to stay were he was.

He spent his days with reading and trying to distract Draco as well as himself from the advancing full moon. Most of the days, he succeeded, managing to talk him into one or several games of chess, or having conversations on rather innocuous topics like books, or magical theory. Sometimes, though, Draco wouldn't comply, and those were the days that Remus hated most – watching the younger man obsessively clean away inexistent dirt was bad enough, but having nothing to prevent him from thinking about his own predicament was worse.

During all of this, he never spoke more than a dozen words a day with Severus. It wasn't that he was unwilling to talk to him – he still felt somewhat resentful, but that was fading quickly. No, it was because Severus didn't seem to have any interest in making conversation. He came home, ate, read, and then went to bed, and Remus couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more wrong than what Draco suspected. But he wouldn't know unless Severus told either of them, and until then – if it should ever happen – there was nothing he could do.

Finally, the full moon arrived, and when the three of them Flooed to Malfoy Manor shortly before nightfall, Remus felt torn between conflicting feelings of dread and anticipation. The dread was stronger still, but for how long? How many months until it would have vanished completely?

Having arrived, he barely noticed his surroundings; only when the first victim was pushed into the execution cell did he startle from his thoughts. It was a man no older than Draco, his ashen face frozen in a mask of complete terror. Remus wished that there were something he could say – that he didn't want this, that he was sorry – but it seemed useless, and he stayed silent.

When the transformation began, it was like an electric shock running through him, making him first freeze, then jerk. He felt his bones shift and break as the world blurred around him, the young man's terrified shrieks mingling with his own screams of pain. And then his rational mind was gone, banished into the furthest corner of his head while the wolf was in control, raging, howling.

When he later tried to think about it, he could never tell when exactly it had happened, but until this night, he had always felt like a helpless watcher, forced to witness how his body committed murders he despised. This night, though, was different. This night, he did not watch the wolf, he was the wolf, and while he first registered this fact with a vague kind of horror, it soon was swept away by overwhelming fury and the lust to kill – and after the first taste of blood, nothing else mattered, and he remembered no more.

When Remus came to again, he was naked and shaking, clinging to Severus, who was holding him tight to prevent him from keeling over.

"Hold on," Severus murmured. "I'm going to Apparate us home."

Remus obeyed, the cellar around them vanishing, being replaced by the shabby but by now familiar bedroom at Spinner's End. Severus carefully led Remus to the bed, making him sit, and it was then that it happened. Severus's face was near his own, and without thinking, Remus leaned forward and kissed him.

Severus tensed for a moment, but then responded, his grip on Remus's body tightening. Suddenly, Remus was acutely aware of his own nakedness, and of his fervent wish that Severus, too, might shed his clothes. Like earlier this night, his thoughts blurred as their kisses grew more heated, and then he was the wolf once again – in human form this time, but the wolf nonetheless, sniffing, growling, and taking Severus in the end, who was as pleasantly submissive as he had been the time before. As he should be.

.-.-.

"Our numbers have grown even further, I see."

There were almost twice as many people in the small stone circle as there had been at their last meeting some months ago, forced to huddle together due to the limited space.

"Things are looking up even more – Harry Potter is finally recovering, if I am to trust my source. They say that in only a few months, maybe no more than half a year, he might be ready to strike again. And this time, he will be better prepared, and more: this time, he will have an army on his side that the Dark Lord has no idea exists. We will have the force of surprise on our side."

Their leader looked around in the circle, as if to explicitly include everyone in his next words.

"If he wins, it will be greatly due to your contribution. You, who had the courage to betray the Dark Lord for what you believe to be right. You should be proud of yourselves, and once this is over, I am sure your families will be as well."

.-.-.

"Severus?"

Remus had been awoken by noises in the kitchen, and now he was standing in the doorway, watching Severus prepare a pot of tea. Three more months had passed, and while Severus had been looking tired back then, now he seemed to be withering before his very eyes.

The other man raised his gaze from the teapot, staring at Remus frowning and bleary-eyed for some moments before focussing on the teabags again. If this was a sign that was supposed to mean to leave him alone, Remus chose to ignore it. Instead, he got two cups out of the cupboard and put them on the table.

"Let me do that."

Severus didn't resist as he took away the teapot and filled it with hot water from the kettle, but sat down and watched Remus in silence. When the tea was ready, Remus poured a cup for each of them, then sat down next to Severus.

"We need to talk."

He didn't think it would work, not after Severus had avoided any kind of conversation for so long despite sleeping with him after each night of the full moon for four months, but to his surprise, the other man agreed.

"I know."

Severus raised his cup to his mouth, but put it down again without drinking.

"We're both doomed," he said after a while, and there was a finality to his words that made Remus shiver involuntarily. "I've seen it in you; it won't be long until you'll have fully turned. It's in your eyes, in how you move and speak. You needn't try to hide it."

Severus was right, but that wasn't the worst thing.

"The worst thing is that I don't really care."

He had believed that the more he would change, the more he would suffer; that he would notice and hate what was happening to him. Instead, he felt almost entirely indifferent about it, and only sometimes the old feelings of regret and guilt that had been torturing him in the beginning still surfaced.

"I tried to feel sorry for them last time. That they would die, that they'd suffer although they had done nothing wrong." Absurdly, Remus wished that he could sound upset or sad, that there were any sign to show that he cared. "I couldn't. All I could think of was how it would feel to kill them. And that they really didn't matter all that much. The world will go on without them just as well."

There was still a tiny part of him that knew how preposterous his words were, something that hoped Severus would be indignant and contradict, but Severus did no such thing. He only nodded weakly, his gaze glued to the cup in his hands.

"I envy you," he finally murmured.

Remus couldn't make himself pity his victims any more, but there was sympathy for Severus. The other man didn't react at first when Remus's hand slipped over his own, but after some time, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

"I didn't count how many they were," he finally went on, "but I'm sure I could have made dozens of Horcruxes if I had wanted to. Like butter spread over too much bread – I don't remember who wrote it, but that's how I feel. And I'm asking myself how much of your soul has to be gone before you finally stop caring – and how long it will take for me to arrive there." His fist clenched tightly under Remus's hand. "I hope not too long any more."

Severus shook his head, covering his eyes with his free hand, which was shaking slightly.

"There have been no news on Potter at all. He could still be in that damn comatose state, or he could have died already, and we'd never know. My informant hasn't made contact in far too long. And it doesn't really matter any more, at least for you and me. If he recovers and somehow manages to win, I doubt he'll be quick enough."

He looked up, and while Remus was unable any more to feel the despair he now saw in Severus's eyes, he remembered the feeling.

"It's too late for you already, and I...give me another month or two, just a few more murders, and it will be for me as well." Severus smiled, a terrible, twisted smirk that deformed his non-too handsome features even more. "If he's dead, well...then we could almost count ourselves lucky. At least we won't belong to those who're unable to live under the Dark Lord's rule."

Suddenly, he got up abruptly, making his chair fall over with a clatter that seemed deafening after the silence before. He was at the next wall before Remus could react, slamming his hand into it with full force, but without making any sound of pain.

"It's absurd!" he snapped, and while he tried to sound angry, Remus could hear how close he must be to crying. "I didn't do all this just to give up in the end! I killed Albus and all those others because I thought it was necessary, because I thought I could achieve something good by it! And now it doesn't matter at all! I'll be nothing but another brainwashed Death Eater; I'll be his perfect servant, just because I won't be able to care any more about anything I tried to fight for! Give me one reason why I shouldn't off myself right now, just to spare us all the misery."

"Severus."

Remus had gotten up as well and was now standing behind the other man. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around him, and while Severus resisted at first, it didn't take much strength to make him give in and slump against him. Carding his fingers through limp, black hair, Remus waited until Severus had calmed down a little.

"I know it's terrible," he then whispered softly. "I know the idea is unbearable. But you'll survive it; I did as well. It's not as bad as it seems, you'll see. You'll feel better once it is over."

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew. He should encourage Severus to resist, to hold on to what was left of his fighting spirit. But it was not what he wanted, and he had found out that by now, all that really counted was to get exactly that. What he wanted, he realised as he tightened his hold, Severus's trembling, haggard form pressed close to himself, was Severus. He was pleasant to touch, good to talk to if it happened, and even strangely attractive in his own way. But Remus wouldn't fully have him until Severus would give up the fight.

"That's not very comforting," Severus mumbled into Remus's chest, but it didn't sound defiant, only exhausted and unhappy.

Remus took half a step backward and made Severus raise his head. Then, gently, he lowered his lips onto Severus's, who returned the kiss with a sound that was a mixture between a moan and a whimper.

"Then let me comfort you." Remus found that although his main intention was to make Severus comply, the sentiment was genuine. He did feel for Severus, more than just sexual attraction. He hadn't thought it to be possible that this new person he had turned into could harbour such affection, but it was a pleasant surprise.

"Let me help you through it." Again, he kissed the other man, nipping softly at his thin lower lip. "We can't change things for ourselves any more, but if Harry is still alive and planning something, we can wait. We don't have to care for his cause to help him. And once Voldemort is gone, we can leave as well. They wouldn't want us, not like we will be, but that doesn't really matter, does it?"

Severus shook his head, leaning in for another kiss. "No," he whispered afterwards. "No, it doesn't, as long..."

He was pressing closer to Remus now, squirming slightly against him, his hands clinging tightly to Remus's robes, eyes closed, pale cheeks flushed weakly.

Remus smiled, then he kissed Severus again, longer and more passionately than before. They made it to the living room before taking off their clothes completely, and this time it was Remus sleeping with Severus, not the wolf.

.-.-.

Severus sighed with pleasure as Remus caressed his naked skin, touching him everywhere in a manner that was very different, yet also similar to what his wolfish part had done. There was no sniffing this time, no licking and no biting; Remus was considerate, but also firm, and in the end, Severus found himself being held down and taken as well, but slowly, gently, without the pain that had been involved the previous times.

Finally, they were lying still on the couch together, Remus's arms wrapped tightly around him, and while he was still feeling as raw and hopeless as before, it did not seem to matter just as much. There was no use to despairing, he thought tiredly, listening to the other man's deep, soothing breaths. Whatever would come, he would have to resign himself to it and do what was necessary. It didn't matter how he felt about it. It had never really mattered, after all.

At least, he thought before he drifted to sleep, at least he did not have to do it alone any more.

.-.-.

Three more months had passed, and there had been no word from Harry. Remus no longer slept on the couch, but in Severus's bed, and almost every evening, they would sleep with each other. It was the same most times, Remus dominating the encounter, guiding them to a climax that would leave him pleased and content, but more importantly, that would help Severus forget about his struggles for the night. It was more than just sex, but he wouldn't call it making love. Severus might feel differently, though, and Remus had no intention to contradict him, should he ever voice his feelings on the matter.

Remus was in the kitchen, preparing lunch together with Draco. He was peeling potatoes when there were noises in the corridor, and then Severus appeared in the doorway, looking pale and shaken.

"Severus?" Putting away the peeler, Remus got up and approached the other man. Severus didn't resist when he was led to a chair, but slumped down on it silently, putting his face into his hands.

Draco, too, had stopped chopping vegetables, and had gotten a glass of water. Severus, though, ignored it, just as he did not seem to notice Remus's hand on his back.

"A conspiracy," he finally murmured flatly. "There was a conspiracy against the Dark Lord. Almost thirty Death Eaters who were discontent. They wanted to undermine our ranks from within, help Potter once he'd make another attempt at attacking. They met every few months at the new moon. Nobody who was loyal, or perceived as loyal, had the slightest idea."

He took one of his hands away from his face and curled it around the glass of water, but didn't drink.

"They were all arrested today."

"But how? If nobody knew -"

"Oh but he did," Severus interrupted Draco. "The Dark Lord knew, because it was his idea all along. He was their leader. He gathered them, fed them with hope that they might stand a chance, urged them to look for others who might think alike. It was a perfect plan. Now he'll get rid of the malcontents all at once."

"Get rid of them?" Draco sounded horrified. "You can't mean -"

"Yes!" There was an ugly cracking sound as the glass shattered in Severus's hand, blood beginning to run down between his fingers. He showed no sign that he even noticed. "Thirty Death Eaters, all their families, and at least a hundred Muggle conspirators they had managed to convince to help. There will be a mass execution tonight."

"It's not the night of the full moon," Remus argued, but Severus brushed it away with a wave of his injured hand. Red droplets landed on the peeled potatoes in the pot in front of him.

"It doesn't matter. The Dark Lord wants to make an example of them. Everyone will see that he'll make short work of traitors. I can't imagine anyone will try anything after that for a long time." He drew a deep breath, like someone who had to steel himself. "He wants me there. He wants me to be the head executioner."

For a while, nobody said anything. Then Remus took away his hand from Severus's back, instead gently touching his arm. "Let me take care of your hand before you go."

Severus looked down at the hand in surprise – it seemed that he had indeed not noticed.

Remus sent Draco to the bathroom for tweezers, bandages, and a magical ointment that would speed up the healing process, and ten minutes later, a neat white bandage was adorning Severus's left hand.

"I have to go." He got up and approached the door, but stopped in the doorway, his back turned towards them.

"The Dark Lord sent me home to ask you if you wish to participate."

The offer was tempting, and Remus almost would have accepted. But there was something in Severus's voice that made him reconsider.

"No, I don't want to." And then, before he could hold back: "Not yet."

Severus winced, then turned around to look at him with an unreadable expression. He nodded slowly. "Not yet."

.-.-.

That night, Remus stayed up until Severus returned in the early morning hours. He had sent Draco to bed at some point after midnight, but he did not want Severus to be alone when he came.

When Severus finally did come, he seemed to be little more than a walking corpse. He stumbled into the living room on unsteady feet, and had Remus not jumped up and put his arms around him, he was sure Severus would have fallen.

"Severus!"

The other man looked up at him and opened his mouth as if wanting to speak, but all that came out was an inarticulate sound of exhaustion and terror. He was shaking, his face sunken and of a sickly, grey colour.

After only an instant of hesitation, Remus had swept him up in his arms and was carrying him upstairs. He had known that this would put a heavy strain on Severus, but he had underestimated just how close he must have been to breaking. Now, however, it seemed that he had crossed that line.

After Remus had put him to bed, Severus fell sleep almost immediately, but he would not stop shaking in Remus's hold for a long time.

During the next two days, Severus would go where he was led, eat when presented with food, and sleep when made to lie down. He didn't speak, and he didn't react to them touching or talking to him. Remus never left his side for more than five minutes. Most of the time, they would sit on the worn couch, Severus wrapped into a blanket. A few times, he looked as though he were trying to talk, but then only moved his mouth mutely for a while before falling still again.

On the morning of the third day, Remus awoke from the feeling of having nobody next to him. When he looked around, he saw that Severus was standing at the window, looking out into the grey neighbourhood. He got up and stood behind him, putting one hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Are you better?"

"Much better." He sounded calm, but at the same time, the hollow exhaustion that had been underlining his voice during the last days and weeks had intensified greatly. "I think I'll be much harder to upset from now on."

Remus smiled, making Severus turn around.

"Good. I've been waiting for this."

"I know. It made me resent you."

"And do you resent me still?"

Severus shook his head. "I tried to, but...I can't seem to care much about anything, really."

Remus smiled again. "It's not so bad, is it?" He raised his hand, slowly running his fingers over Severus's cheek, then his neck and side, until he reached his ass.

"No." Severus stepped closer. "It's like a stone had fallen off my chest."

"Told you," Remus murmured before he kissed him, and for the next hour, there were more important things to do than talk.

Later, they were lying in bed again, Severus pressed tightly against Remus's warm body. Remus was stroking Severus's hair lazily, feeling pleased with himself and the world. Things had gone exactly as he had wished they would.

"I think," he whispered softly into Severus ear, "I think it's time for me to pay the Dark Lord a visit."

.-.-.

It was the night of the full moon four months later. Severus was standing in front of an execution cell with several others. They were watching Remus, who was looking great in Severus's opinion – no comparison to the tired, thin man who had lain on his couch limply for months. Remus had gained weight; he looked strong and energetic as he was pacing the cell restlessly, every few moments baring his teeth and clenching his fists in an impatient manner.

When the victim was thrown into the cell, Severus could barely spare him a look. It was hard to imagine that he had abhorred the procedure so much only recently. Of course, he still knew that it was a waste – the poor wretch could certainly be spared without any damage done to the Dark Lord's cause – but he found it rather pointless to care and burden himself with it. It was much easier this way.

Everything seemed to be somewhat easier these days, and he was grateful for it. There were still times when he would lie awake at night, watching Remus sleep and feeling an odd kind of regret. He hadn't wanted it to happen like this, and he had the vague feeling that the two of them had been deprived of something that could have been. But that, too, was a waste of energies in the end, and most of the time, he felt terribly tired. He just couldn't afford brooding over it.

Severus focussed on the cell again, where Remus had just finished his transformation. He was looking even stronger in his wolfish form; a magnificent beast with shiny grey fur and long fangs, which were bared in a feral snarl.

The elderly man he was supposed to put to death was mumbling incomprehensibly under his breath, staring wide-eyed at the creature in front of him. The wolf circled him slowly for a while, growling and salivating, before suddenly, he jumped and attacked, his fangs sinking deeply into his victim's throat. Blood gushed over his snout and face, colouring his fur darkly.

It was over quickly – too quickly for the wolf, apparently, who threw back his head and howled in anger and frustration. But there had been only three executions this night, and this was all he would get. Severus knew who would make up for it, and he couldn't say that he was displeased about it. Hardly anything could make him feel passionately these days, but sleeping with Remus, especially after the night of the full moon, always seemed to revive him at least a little.

In the early morning, he had brought Draco home and now returned to get Remus after his transformation. He watched the other man change, and, differently from how it had been before, Remus needed hardly any assistance to get to his feet and keep standing. He seemed better in tune with his wolfish part now, be it in his human or animal body – the changes were smoother, less painful, less exhausting.

Severus raised his wand to clean the blood away that was still covering Remus's face and parts of his body, but the other man caught his arm in a firm grip. Severus frowned in confusion, trying to free himself, but Remus wouldn't let go. Instead, he took a step forward, bringing his face close to Severus's. Severus tried to draw back in vain, being pulled only closer.

"Severus."

It was a soft murmur, but with an undertone he knew perfectly. There was no contradicting, at least not for long. The other man cupped his cheek, making him look into his eyes. They were no longer brown, but of a permanent amber colour now, flickering in the light of the torches on the walls.

"Does it really matter?" His thumb ghosted over Severus's skin, his other hand letting go of his arm and instead wrapping around Severus's waist. "For me, Severus. You do love me, don't you?"

They had never used these words, and now they made his breath catch for a moment. Remus pressed his lips on Severus's forehead, then his temple, his cheek, his neck.

"Yes."

Remus smiled at the whispered admission, going on to place kisses all over Severus's face, except for his mouth. He was caressing Severus's buttocks now, his other hand holding him close to his naked body.

"Remus, please..."

"Please what?" Another kiss on his neck, and a sharp, delicious prick of pain as Remus nipped at his skin.

"Please, more..."

Instants later, Remus's lips were on his own, Remus's tongue in his mouth, and with them the metallic taste of blood. Severus found that getting his clothes off as quickly as possible seemed to be far more important than that.

"We will leave eventually, won't we?" he later asked Remus, lying underneath him in bed, still flushed and out of breath.

"Mhm. We will. But not now; it would be too dangerous. And think of Harry, what if he needs us here?"

"And what if he doesn't?"

"Sleep, Severus." Remus kissed Severus's shoulder. "I'll tell you when the time has come. Trust me."

Severus slept.

.-.-.

Draco was stumbling through the underwood, twigs and thorns tearing at his clothes and slapping him in the face. He didn't slow down though, but rather increased his speed. Three hours ago, he had passed the southern border of the part of England controlled by the Dark Lord, and half an hour ago, he had finally dared to move differently than creeping forward in a soundless but excruciatingly slow manner.

He had no words to describe his relief that he had managed to get through the ring of magic that enclosed the country on all sides. Without Severus's wand and his detailed instructions, it would have been impossible. Even so, it was a miracle that he hadn't been discovered. Had the older men come with him, as he had tried to persuade them, he was certain that they would have been caught.

Draco drew several deep breaths, trying to concentrate on getting forward, getting his thoughts away from Severus and Lupin. They had sent him away – on a scouting mission, as they had told him, to see if Potter was still alive. Severus's informant had not given word in almost a year. But Draco wasn't so sure that they ever expected him to come back. He was neither blind nor stupid, and they both knew it.

They had talked of leaving, yes. Later. When they were certain that Potter wouldn't need them there any more. Or, in the unlikely case that he would still manage to slay the Dark Lord, after his victory. Draco didn't believe that Potter was still alive, and, as he suspected, neither did they. More importantly, though, he was not convinced that they would leave if it turned out that the cause of the Light was lost.

Enabling him to flee had seemed to him like a last attempt at rebelling against something that had long overwhelmed them. Maybe it would make them feel better about it all, but if he was to be honest, it didn't matter to him any more. All that mattered was that he had escaped – from the Dark Lord as well as from them.

He'd felt uncomfortable in their presence during the last months, watching, listening. On the outside, their interaction was not different from before. Severus still made requests in a harsh voice; snapping at Lupin when he was irritated, as well as at Draco. Lupin still spoke softly, he said "please" and "thank you" in all the right places, and never seemed to do more than making mild suggestions. But if you looked closer, it was clear that Severus was the one asking for permission, while Lupin was giving the orders – pleasantly, gently, but orders nonetheless, and they both knew better than to contradict. He also hadn't missed Lupin rubbing his left arm absently for several days some months ago, and now he would often leave with Severus during the day.

The worst thing were the nights of the full moon, though. Despite his own issues, Draco had noticed the changes in both of them. With Lupin, it was obvious, and while Severus was subtler, it was he who disturbed Draco much more. Lupin's change was understandable, but Severus's feelings turning from pretended nonchalance in the early months, over pain at seeing Lupin suffer, to now indifference mixed with a weary kind of admiration for the raging beast that Lupin turned into… It made Draco want to scream, or cry, or both. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, would try to forbid himself even the thought, but it was as though he had lost his parents all over again. There was nothing left of the Severus who had taken him into his house – or just enough to send him away before it was entirely too late.

Draco shuddered and then fell, his ankle twisting with a terrible pain. He stumbled to his feet again, though, and continued as quickly as he had moved before.

When he reached the open fields an hour later, he even managed to run.